Quid Pro Quo: A dark stepbrother romance

by Nenia Campbell

  The click of his seat belt was deafening in the silence. She sat in her seat, feeling ready to run, but Nicholas made no move towards her. Right now, he wasn't even looking in her direction, although she knew he was aware of her presence. “I don't understand what you're saying.”

  “Do you really need it spelled out for you?” Nicholas asked, tilting his head to regard her with an expression that made her painfully aware of her heated face. He'd looked at her like that when he kissed her—faineant and worldly, like a jaded lord. “You can't still be that naive.”

  “Well, you talk in circles,” said Jay. “Everything you say sounds like a riddle.”

  “Then let me lay it out on the line for you, my squawking blue jay. I want more from you than I think you're prepared to give to me within the framework of our little understanding, but I'm going to try to get it from you anyway—and I'm very good at getting what I want.”

  “What else do you want?” she whispered, suddenly terrified. “You already have me.”

  “I have the version of you that you give everyone else. I want the you that no one sees.”

  The car felt entirely too small, as if she were about to be crushed. “No more riddles,” she said hoarsely. “Why did you really bring me here? If it isn't revenge, what is it?”

  “I just told you.”

  I want the you that no one sees.

  What did that mean, the part of her that no one saw? Did he think he could sift through her consciousness and pan for what he wanted like a prospector looking for gold in a river? Jay grabbed at her own chest, her eyes desperately seeking escape.

  She still remembered with painful clarity what had happened the last time she refused him.

  “Oh.” All at once, she straightened as her eyes focused beyond the window. “Shit. You drove me to the office—you forgot to drop me off at the Starbucks.”

  “Did I? How careless of me. You can go on ahead,” he said, unconcerned, leaning back in his seat as he pulled out his phone in a way that made her wonder if he'd forgotten on purpose. “I'll sit in the car for a few minutes and answer some emails.”

  Jay slid out of the car a little unsteadily, feeling as if all of her organs were plummeting without her into freefall as she did, and closed the door, backing from the car before someone could see. Nicholas looked up, flashing her a brief smile, mouthing something she couldn't make out. She thought it might have been “Bye, blue jay.”

  Turning sharply on her heel, Jay walked determinedly towards the building. Nicholas got to the office so early, she was pretty sure that most people weren't even here, yet. Small blessings.

  Not a boy, she thought, with each drumming click of her shoes. I already knew that.

  So what did he want with her now?

  Obi, on his way back from the kitchen, greeted her casually. “Did you try making the jollof yet?”

  “No.” She smiled, trying not to let her fraying nerves show. “I just bought ingredients.”

  “If you like it, let me know,” he said. “I know an excellent recipe for vegan efo riro.”

  “I'm not sure what that is, but I bet it's wonderful.”

  “It's spinach stew, and it is. Good morning, Mr. Beaucroft.”

  Nicholas paused, staring at the two of them for so long that it began to feel awkward. “Good morning,” he said eventually, before striding away.

  “Don't worry,” said Obi. “I was nervous, too, at first. But he really isn't so bad.”

  Jay hadn't realized she'd been staring after him until she swiveled to look at Obi. “What?”

  “The CEO,” Obi said patiently. “He seems intimidating, but I think it's nice that he walks around and talks to people. But you report directly to him, so maybe it's different.”

  Jay felt her phone buzz. “I'm not really sure what to think,” she said, which was true enough. “Thank you for the jollof recipe. I'll take a photo when I make it to show you.”

  “Please do.” He smiled at her. “Have a good day, Jay.”

  She gave a smile at him that immediately faded as she looked down at her phone. I sent you the PowerPoint and the spreadsheets. Have you taken a look at them?

  I haven't even gotten to my desk yet. I'll look in a moment.

  Jay sat at her desk, slinging her bag to the ground as her phone vibrated noisily on the table. Annica looked over at her, giving her one of those tense little smiles, but didn't greet her. She never did and Jay knew she didn't approve of her constantly being on her phone.

  I see your fan club has a new member.

  For God's sake. Yes, he was in my orientation group. He's very nice.

  Jay saw the message go to 'read.' There was no response. When she looked up at him, in his little corner on the second floor, she saw that he was on the phone.

  Good. She pulled up the PowerPoint and clicked through all the slides in preview mode, testing all the graphics and effects, and visiting each hyperlink. It looks fine, she shot off to him in an email. Numbers look good, too. They match the spreadsheet.

  Then she scheduled all of his appointments for the day, leaving him with a gap for lunch and a thirty minute window before the all-hands to prepare for his meeting on the quarterly reports.

  Is that what you like, Jay? Nice?

  There was a pause and then he messaged her again.

  Do you want to fuck him?

  She glanced at him nervously, half-expecting to find him staring at her like a creep. He wasn't, but she was still unnerved enough that her fingers had difficulty hitting the right keys.

  That's inappropriate, she wrote, stumbling over the letters. And you know it.

  She saw it go to 'read.' Now he was looking at her, and while he was really too far away to make out the nuances of his expression clearly, she saw enough that she found herself picking up the phone again, propelled by feelings too dark and too dangerous to name.

  Are you jealous?

  Once again, it went to 'read.' Jay saw him get up from his desk for a meeting she'd scheduled, sliding his phone into the pocket of his blazer.

  He never responded.

  ▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

  The all-hands was tedious at first. The auditorium was packed with all of the other employees of the company who looked as bored as she felt while Arthur Hartwell droned on and on about “health” and growth.” Some people looked engaged, but in a bright, fake way that made Jay suspect that it was probably just an act. Nobody was that excited about metrics.

  Nobody except Nicholas, apparently.

  When Arthur handed the mic over to Nicholas, who had been sitting in the first row like her, but much farther down, there was a palpable shift in the room. She soon saw why. Watching him click through the slides as he paced back and forth like a panther, talking about month-over-month growth, customer acquisition costs, and key performance indicators for the new quarter, Jay realized that Nicholas really, really liked what he did.

  And perhaps even more shockingly, that he was good at it.

  He was magnetic. The same intensity that rendered him so unapproachable made him compelling to watch and his voice carried well over the mic: deep and intimate, with a gravelly edge that made it seem as if he were on the verge of a dry laugh. At the end, when he asked if there were any questions, a number of hands went up, many of them belonging to women.

  At one point, his eyes slid to her and she forgot how to breathe as he answered a question she no longer remembered, asked by a person whose name she did not know, talking about customer retention while looking her dead in the eyes as she tried desperately not to squirm.

  And then he smiled and moved on to the next person, leaving her utterly sidelined.

  His employees clearly respected him, and more than a couple appeared starstruck in his presence. When she'd left the auditorium, she'd glanced over her shoulder to see him being mobbed. Jay felt a little stunned as she slid back into her desk chair. This was entirely different from the group of sycophants he had cultivated back in high school. This was
admiration.

  There were no new messages on her phone and when she remembered what she'd sent him she nearly felt bad, until she also remembered that she was still mad at him for being such a bastard to her in the car—and in the office, which was worse, because this was her livelihood.

  When all of this was over, she needed a spotless record in order to survive.

  Maybe she hadn't realized that Nicholas was good at what he did, but he still seemed surprised sometimes to find that she was capable of any thoughts that might pose contrary to his.

  A ping popped up and she looked at it, surprised to see that it was Meghana from HR.

  Hi Jay, it's Meg. Can you come to my office for a quick chat.

  A chat. Jay's heart went cold. Especially when she saw Nicholas sit down at his computer with his laptop still under his arm and frown at something on his screen.

  He set the laptop on his desk and began walking down the stairs.

  Towards her.

  Oh no. A muscle in her throat spasmed. She got up from her desk before he could corner her there. Pitching her voice low, she said, “Did Meghana send you an email, too?”

  “Yes.”

  Jay glanced around. A few people were looking at them curiously. “Is it because of the text I sent?” She folded her arms. “Oh God. I'm sorry. I didn't think they would—”

  “Jay,” he said, cutting her off. “Relax. HR can't read your phone. It's going to be fine.”

  “But—”

  “It's going to be fine,” he repeated. “I promise. Let's go.”

  Jay followed him, feeling bleak. She didn't think it would be fine.

  Meghana was at her desk, which was decorated in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting to the people who came in here and found out that they were getting put on performance improvement plans or fired. Little yarn decorations, photographs of her family and kids in gilt frames. Sorry you have to leave the company, Jay thought, a little wildly, but just look at all the pretty yarn.

  She jumped when Nicholas closed the door behind them. He swung into one of the chairs directly across from Meghana's desk. When the HR director glanced at her, Jay, trembling, made herself sit down next to him.

  “Do you know why I've called you both in here?”

  Oh God. Jay stared at her fingers, where they were digging into the fabric of her skirt. Someone must have seen them together. Maybe at the store, when he'd hugged her from behind.

  Nicholas, unbelievably, still looked calm. “Have we done something wrong?”

  Instead of answering, Meghana leaned forward. Her face was grave and Jay's heart sank further. “I got a call from someone informing me that the woman you hired on as your new assistant is actually your sister.”

  Jay choked.

  Nicholas glanced at her. There was a warning in that look. “From whom?”

  “I'm not at liberty to say,” said Meghana. “However, it was not a pleasant phone call.”

  “Ah,” said Nicholas, leaning back in his chair. “That was probably my stepmother. She's been harassing me at work about my late father's will. I've had to notify security.”

  “Is Jay your sister?”

  “She is. My stepsister, actually. I didn't think that was a problem.”

  “It isn't if it is disclosed prior to the hiring process. Precautions should be taken when hiring relatives to preclude any appearances of favoritism.” She paused. “Especially coming from so close to the top.”

  “Jay does good work,” Nicholas said neutrally.

  “So I've heard.” Meghana looked at Jay and her face softened a little. “I have a solution to this. I'm going to swap Jay with Annica so you, Jay, will now be reporting to Arthur Hartwell, the CFO. Nicholas, Annica will now be reporting to you.”

  “And what about my work?” Nicholas demanded.

  “I'll input the changes into the company org chart and mirror their ShiftWare credentials so no work should be lost and neither executive will be adversely impacted by the change. You won't even need to move desks,” she said to Jay, consolingly.

  “Um,” said Jay, still trying to process. “Great.”

  “I'll let Annica and Arthur know as well, so please don't speak to either of them about this until I've called them both in here for a chat.” Meghan steepled her fingers. “Do you have any other questions?”

  I'm not fired? Jay's heart felt like a speeding hummingbird. She looked at Nicholas, whose face was unreadable. “No,” he said, unfolding his leg.

  “Excellent. Then I'll let you both get back to work. Thank you for being so accommodating and go ahead and finish up any pending assignments you've agreed to for today, Jay.”

  I'm not fired. Jay let out a breath and nodded. But I think I'm still in trouble.

  When she got back to her seat, her phone buzzed.

  Yes, was all it said.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  2017

  ▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

  Jay did excellent work and Nicholas had gotten used to how smoothly she had his days running. Everything scheduled before noon, coffee brought quickly and grudgingly, and profiles on all of his acquisitions that would make an amateur detective cream their pants.

  He didn't want to give her up, especially not to Arthur, and especially not in exchange for Annica, who was about as pleasant as a wasp caught up in a skirt, but there wasn't a damn thing that he could do about it and that annoyed him.

  Nicholas watched her pore over her files through that glass divider, sitting so close to her computer that he wondered if she'd finally succeeded at ruining his eyes with all those books. Her final text message to him—Are you jealous?—mocked him from his phone, reminding him that there were other ways that she was only his on loan.

  Yes, he typed, hitting send before he could think better of it.

  And then he leaned back in his chair and sighed.

  At least the company all-hands had gone well. He was always satisfied when the quarter earnings were good, and despite Crystal's numerous fuck-ups, the Acquisitions team had done a good job courting clients who would bring in solid revenue. The pulse of the company was beating strong.

  Below, he saw Jay pick up and look at her phone. He could feel her looking up at him and pointedly ignored her as he typed out an email to Annica, detailing his typical routine.

  She wrote back quickly, but all it said was, Will do.

  When a message flashed across his screen, he assumed it was Annica with a follow-up question, or perhaps Meghana to see how everything was going, or maybe another kiss-ass from Acquisitions trying to curry favor by telling him how his report was so great.

  Glancing at the message, Nicholas was disturbed to see that it was from none of those people. It was from Renata Rossi, the company's head of legal counsel.

  The last time he'd sat down with her was when he was cleaning house after his father's embezzling, which had been about five years ago. What the hell did she want with him?

  Can you come see me at your earliest convenience?

  Fuck. Nicholas pushed back from his desk. This couldn't be good. Lawyers didn't call you up for brief friendly chats. Not while they were on the clock. Maybe they needed him to sign something. The last thing he needed right now was another problem.

  Renata's desk was on the second floor. She had her own private office and it seemed like she spent most of the day locked in there, surfacing occasionally for the odd coffee trip. He could see one on her desk now, half-melted. What appeared to be the third of the day, judging from the two empties. Nicholas closed the door behind him and said, “You wanted to see me?”

  Unlike Meghana, her desk wasn't decorated with cutesy little knickknacks and she didn't beat around the bush. “We've been in contact with the lawyer of one of our ex-employees, Crystal Yost.”

  “I know who she is,” Nicholas said grimly. “She's my ex-administrative assistant.”

  “Yes, well—now she's suing you and the company. We've been served.”

  He w
ished he could say he was surprised. After that temper tantrum on her way out of the office, it didn't shock him at all that she'd chosen to be vindictive. “Wrongful termination?”

  “No, actually. Sexual harassment.”

  The floor seemed to vault beneath him. “What?”

  Renata watched him slide into the chair, her sharp eyes missing nothing. “Specifically, quid pro quo harassment. Ms. Yost is claiming that you fired her from her position because she wouldn't sleep with you.”

  “You've got to be fucking kidding me. She was fired because she was bad at her job.”

  There was a silence. He bit the inside of his cheek but he didn't apologize. If expletives were bullets, Nicholas suspected that the walls of this office would look like a Scarface-style shoot-up.

  “Okay.” He blew out a sigh. “So what does this mean for us? What are the next steps?”

  “Do we want to settle?”

  “No,” he snapped. “We don't. Because I didn't do it.”

  Renata shrugged. Nicholas looked hard at her, but he couldn't immediately tell what she thought of that outcome. She was the one person in this office that he couldn't read.

  “So they'll subpoena pertinent communications—emails, phone records, the like. There will be a period of discovery. And then it could go to trial, depending on what happens.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then we'll see.”

  Nicholas raked his hand through his hair while she tapped her pen against her desk. His eyes were drawn to the familiar silhouette; it was a Montblanc. Once, his father had had one exactly like it. He wondered what happened to that pen. Maybe one of the junk haulers he'd hired to trash his father's shit had run off with it. “She's retaliating because I fired her. Isn't that illegal?”

  “Malicious prosecution is what you're alluding to,” said Renata. “And yes, you could counter-sue for it but from a PR standpoint, that's not a good look in the age of #MeToo. Especially not from an executive lashing back at his alleged victim.”

  “Alleged victim,” Nicholas repeated.

  “I understand that this is difficult to process.”