“What can I do for you, Grace?” He pushed back from his desk, crossing a foot over his knee and clasping his hands, affording her a relaxed demeanor.
“I don’t know quite how to say this.”
“Say it plainly then.”
Finally, she raised her eyes. “I saw you Saturday night.”
The back of his neck prickled.
“I went to use the powder room, and the door wasn’t locked.” She met his gaze steadily now, not flinching.
Fuck. He’d exposed Trinity. The things she’d said on Saturday might be true. He wanted what he wanted, her feelings and all else be damned. He lost his head around her every time.
“I apologize, Grace, for making you uncomfortable.”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot, pushing straighter against the door. “It’s an ethical issue. We’ve got the new contract with Green, and this presents a conflict of interest.”
He tapped his fingers together. “There’s no conflict. One thing has nothing to do with the other. I know how to separate business from pleasure.” Trinity wanted “separate,” yet he was too obsessed to actually accomplish it her way. The things she’d said that night were starting to make a lot of sense.
“You wouldn’t do anything improper, but it’s the appearance”— Grace stressed the word with a grimace—“of impropriety.”
In her position, he’d be saying the same thing. Scott rose, looked out the window over the high-rises. The sky was dark, the clouds painted on like splotches of gray. Then he turned. “I understand your point. But there is no business impropriety.”
Her jaw worked, then she flung herself across the room, grabbed the back of the chair, and her thoughts burst out in words. “How could you do that to yourself? Compromise your ethics? And with someone like her. She’s a floozy, an airhead.”
“Let’s not get personal.” Grace was overwrought. He couldn’t allow himself to get angry. “The contract was signed and negotiated before I knew the woman’s name,” he reminded her. He hadn’t compromised his ethics, but he had hurt Trinity.
Grace’s fingers whitened on the chair. “She’s made you lose your mind.” She gulped air, catching her breath, and he was shocked at the vitriol rolling across her face. “How can you throw your career away on that slut?”
Everything inside him stilled. “Watch what you’re saying. You’re free to criticize my actions, but don’t cross the line and pass judgment on her.”
She worried her lip, then did a quick back and forth pace by the side of the chair. “But it’s the ethics,” she repeated, though she’d already revealed her envy.
An e-mail line echoed in his mind. Do you really want to throw yourself away on a slut like her? Grace’s question was eerily similar. He studied her. “How many times have you seen me with Miss Green?” he queried.
Her gaze dropped to her shoe’s pointed toe. “Saturday.”
“That’s bullshit.”
If it wasn’t, she would have looked at him. Instead, her shoe remained particularly interesting. “It’s true.”
“You’ve been following me and taking pictures.” He was a moron. He’d thought she was acting oddly, but he’d written it off as the divorce. “You even used a visitor badge to do it.”
Pressing her lips together, she didn’t say a word.
Elton held a hand up in the side window by the door, and Scott waved him away. It was a closed door. When would they understand that meant to stay the fuck out?
“Grace. Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”
She gave him a mutinous scowl she reserved for recalcitrant staff. “What about you? On company property. I saw you.”
“It wasn’t on company time.” He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about it. “Nor do I need to explain myself to you.”
“But why her?”
He recognized the stark pain in her eyes. “Because.” That was the thing about need and want, even love. There was no good reason it should be one person over another, yet it was.
“But I’ve been letting you know how I feel for months.”
Shit. He knew that was coming. “We work together.”
“That’s the point. We work so well together.” She rubbed her temples. “I thought you were done with her after the picture I sent of you outside the movies.” Reaching back, she squeezed her neck muscles as if they ached. “Then you saw her the day of the contract meeting, and I knew it would start all over.”
“So you began sending those e-mails again.”
She blinked rapidly. “I can be what you want,” she whispered. “If you like kinky, I can do that. I’ve seen you around her. I know what you want. I can give it to you. If you need a threesome, I’d be willing to try.”
He took a step back. “That isn’t what I’m looking for.”
The thought of doing anything with Grace was horrific. There was only Trinity. She set him on fire, no one else. It wasn’t the mystery or the excitement, her age, his time of life. It was Trinity herself, her voice, her laugh, her zeal for new experiences, her ability to savor every taste, sight, or sound.
“Scott.”
The whole scene was like something out of an old Twilight Zone episode. He’d been zapped into another reality. “No. A personal relationship between us is out of the question.”
She stared at him, two spots of color blooming on her cheeks. Tension rippled along her jaw as she clenched her teeth. “I’m not so sure Mr. Rudd would find it fine if he knew what you were doing in that hotel room with Herman Green’s daughter.”
Sonovabitch. Now she was pissed and out for revenge. He’d never have thought it of Grace, but giving her the upper hand in any way was a big fucking mistake. He nipped it in the bud. “Let’s find out what he has to say together.” Striding to the door, he yanked it open, then crooked his finger. “Follow me.”
She hesitated, until she saw by the look in his eye that he’d drag her if she didn’t come on her own. She followed like a lamb. He wanted to smack the walls as he passed, not sure whether he was angrier with himself or her. In Rudd’s office, he held off slamming the door with his last modicum of control.
Ron stared. “What’s she doing here?”
In normal practice, Scott would have castigated the man for the nasty tone used about one of his staff, but he felt the same animosity. “Grace may have something to add to the discussion.”
Printed pages of the 10K lay scattered across Rudd’s desk. Scott leaned in, jabbing them with his index finger. “These numbers are solid. There’s nothing we can do to make them any better. So don’t threaten me with my fucking job.”
Ron again stared at Grace. “I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation to have with your employee present.”
Scott glanced over his shoulder. She clasped her hands, fingers laced. “Oh, it’s appropriate.” A stab of anger pierced his temple. Fuck what he’d done, she didn’t have the right to try coercion on him. “Grace might have some light to shed on the subject.” He waited. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Well, Grace, cat got your tongue?”
He wanted to tear the words out of her. If Grace screwed him over now, so be it. There was nothing in the photos that would lead back to Trinity. He wouldn’t let Grace’s threat hang over him. Yet he had a feeling . . .
“Scott’s correct.” She concentrated on the papers spackling Rudd’s desk. “I’ve analyzed the reserves. There isn’t a penny to use. If we touch the M4 warranty reserve, the auditors and the SEC will be down our throats. We could get slapped not only with negligence, but fraud.” She swallowed, then exhaled in a rush.
She didn’t have the guts, or maybe she’d never meant the threat in the first place. He figured it was the latter.
Rudd gave only a one-word reply—“Fuck”—then subsided into his chair. “My ass is grass,” he finally said.
“Last year is in the toilet, Ron, but this year is looking pretty damn good.” Scott wondered why he was offering the man a bone.
The company would be better off without Rudd’s leadership, yet anything else felt like grinding the man into the dirt.
“Yeah.” Ron sighed, then grabbed a pen and signed the document. A superfluous act since it got filed electronically, the signature was nevertheless a surrender.
Rather than belabor the victory, Scott exited, Grace in tow. The main hall between Accounting and the executives was empty. Scott stopped as the door closed, and they were alone.
“How did you know what went on in the hotel room?”
She sighed. “I didn’t. I was hiding behind a potted plant”—the ubiquitous potted plant, he almost laughed—“and I saw the guy scribble something on a napkin. You picked it up after he was gone, then you both followed him to the elevators. I thought if I pushed your buttons a little, made you think I knew, I’d trick you into telling me what happened. I was so upset that you couldn’t seem to leave her alone.” She grabbed a great breath of air, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I couldn’t seem to leave it alone. I just needed . . . something.” The last word was merely a puff of air.
He almost understood. He felt the same about Trinity. He needed something she couldn’t give, and it made him fucking crazy, too. But Grace had crossed the line. “So you thought you could blackmail me into”—he spread his hands—“what?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t going to do anything with the pictures. I didn’t think about telling Mr. Rudd until . . . well, in your office. You were so immovable. I wanted to hurt you.” The tears welled up in her voice, trembled on her lips, but she controlled them before they reached her eyes. “I lost my mind a little,” she murmured. “The divorce.” She swayed slightly, as if her footing wasn’t sure. “You were so understanding.”
He’d never been that understanding.
“I’ve screwed it all up.” She swallowed again, hard.
Their working relationship was in the dumper. Anything else was never a possibility. “I want your resignation.”
She clipped her badge off her jacket and laid it across his palm. “It’ll be effective today.”
That would put him in a bind with the year-end wrap-up. Scott didn’t care. “And the visitor badge.”
She blinked, looked at him a long moment, then reached into her pocket and laid it on top of her personal badge. Damn, she’d been carrying it with her. At his suspicious glance, she shook her head. “I didn’t plan it. I was leaving that night, and I saw you down in the garage with her. You went upstairs, and . . .” She blinked. “The way the two of you were, it wasn’t business. Then I remembered the badge.”
“How convenient.” It sounded pretty damn premeditated.
She dipped her head. “I admit I didn’t want you to find out I’d followed you. And I was always remembering that damn badge at the end of the day after I’d already locked up, but I kept forgetting to return it.” He could almost hear her swallow. “I didn’t use it again,” she added.
He knew that. Mark had confirmed the ID never came up. Scott went on with his other demands. “The photos, Grace. Trash them.” There were no guarantees, but he sensed she was done with her threats. “And lose my personal e-mail address.” From time to time, he’d sent her files when he was working from home, just as he’d done with Elton, even Rudd. He’d get a new address and stick with work on company e-mail only. Live and learn.
“I will,” she said, adding softly, “I think I need to take some time off.” She bent her head and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to me.”
Then she entered the Accounting Department. Holding the door open, he watched her disappear around a cubicle corner.
She went a little crazy, that’s what happened. You said and did things you didn’t mean because you couldn’t get what you wanted, and you were suddenly willing to do anything without even realizing how completely off it was.
He was no better than Grace. As Trinity had accused, he’d put his own needs above hers. He wouldn’t accept her terms, unwilling even to consider a compromise. And like a child who didn’t get the Christmas gift he’d asked for, Scott tossed aside what she offered as if it were the crumpled wrapping paper.
Yet he would never be satisfied with less than her total commitment. He would always be wanting more from her than she could give. In a way, love and passion with Trinity would end up being as big a struggle as they had been with Katy.
He wasn’t sure he had the guts to go through all that again.
21
“ ‘DON’T worry about him, he’s an asshole’?” After reading aloud, Mr. Wanamaker looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “You haven’t been in the work world for long, Miss Green, but I would have thought you understood that you don’t CC vendors on e-mails where you refer to them as assholes. It’s just not done.”
Trinity gripped the armrests of the chair in Mr. W.’s office. Anthony Ackerman stood by the window, eerily like that scene weeks ago when she’d downloaded the bank data twice.
It’s just not done. Mr. W. sounded like her mother.
Her Sunday had been miserable, Scott filling her mind. She wanted to beg him to forget everything she’d said, yet nothing had changed. They were at a stalemate. He couldn’t be satisfied with what they had; she couldn’t give more and maintain her own sense of self. Or hell, at least define that for herself. Then there was Daddy. He’d been miffed she’d left the dinner party right after he’d told her not to mess things up with Scott. Yet despite sleeping badly Sunday night, she wasn’t a second late Monday morning. Her job was all she had now.
Yet little more than half a day into the workweek, Mr. Wanamaker had called her on the carpet. “I didn’t refer to him as an asshole, sir.”
Wanamaker turned the paper toward her and stabbed. “It says right here. From Trinity Green to Inga Rice, CC our vendor.” His voice rose with the last two words, and the sheet jiggled so much she couldn’t make out a single line item.
Trinity gritted her teeth. “I’m afraid there’s been some mistake, because I didn’t send that e-mail.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Mr. Wanamaker raised an eyebrow at Anthony as if to say, “What the heck are you going to do when on top of being an idiot, she’s a liar and the boss’s daughter?”
Well, she wasn’t a liar, she was a victim once again. “Somehow an error has been made.”
Anthony jumped in, cutting her off. “Inga assures me it was an honest mistake, that you accidentally hit Reply All when you didn’t mean to. Happens to the best of us.”
Well, it didn’t happen to her. Someone had done it deliberately, obviously after Trinity had talked to the man at the beginning of last week and straightened out the issue he’d created with Inga. For now, though, she had Mr. Wanamaker to pacify. “I did not send that e-mail, accidental or otherwise”—she gave Mr. W. her best quelling look when he opened his mouth—“however, I realize that our vendor needs reassurance and that’s the most important thing right now. I’ll take care of it immediately.”
Mr. Wanamaker couldn’t resist tacking on his own two cents. “It’s going to be a tricky tap dance. He’s angry enough to cancel the order.”
Trinity smiled. “Leave it to me, Mr. Wanamaker, I’ll handle the situation with the necessary tact.”
Her CFO, who on Saturday had been Paul instead of Mr. Wanamaker , slid his glasses all the way to the end of his nose, and something flickered in his eyes. A little bit of respect? “Thank you, Miss Green. I appreciate you putting your utmost attention to the matter.”
Show and Tell Page 33
