The Relationship Clause

Chapter 9

There’sa superstition that says bad luck comes in threes, but I’m pretty sure I hit that limit weeks ago.

“Seriously, Owen, are you seeing this?” Shane taps on the tablet he shoved in front of me hard enough to make me worry he’ll damage it. “This isn’t good. This article is talking about my tech. My ideas. What the heck is going on?”

I run my hands through my hair, a sick feeling in my stomach. The article he’s referring to was published yesterday morning in an online tech magazine we subscribe to. The author is hyping up a new 3-D printing technology said to be unveiled in six months. There’s no way to tell for sure, but by all the hints the author gives, it sounds frighteningly similar to our own tech, which we planned on releasing next year.

It’s too similar to be a coincidence.

“I’m sorry, Shane,” I say through a sigh. “I should have told you about my suspicions of a possible mole weeks ago.”

“You’re dang right you should have.” Shane is pacing. He’s been pacing off and on for ten minutes now. Gone is his happy-go-lucky demeanor. He’s in full-blown panic mode, a side of him I haven’t seen in a long time. “You should have told me the moment you caught even the smallest whiff of something going on. We’re partners, Owen.”

“I know, I know. But I haven’t been ignoring it either. We’ve got a handle on it. We’ll find out who’s leaking our ideas and hit them with a lawsuit. I’ve got our lawyers ready for when we find the mole.”

Shane stops, head whipping toward me. “Excuse me, ‘we?’ ‘We’ve got a handle on it?’ Who else knows?”

Oooh shoot. My eyes immediately go to my closed office door behind Shane where Junie’s desk is. Shane looks back and forth between the door and me, wheels turning until an obvious lightbulb goes off in his head.

“Junie? You told Junie about the mole before you told me?”

I am an idiot.

“Look, I didn’t tell her about it on a whim; it’s part of the reason I hired her. She’s helping me find out who the mole is. She has strict orders and permission to snoop around, ask questions, and report back to me weekly.”

Shane squeezes his eyes shut and sits down hard in the seat in front of me. For half a second, I worry he’s going to blow up all over again, but then he steeples his hands in front of himself and speaks, though it seems to take a great deal of effort to be calm.

“Fine. Okay then. It’s a little late to question you, so let’s suspend reality for half a second and pretend this is a good idea. Have you found out anything yet?”

“We’re narrowing down our suspect list. Whoever’s behind this has been pretty careful, so we haven’t been able to see any blatant sneaking around on video or anything like that, but we have ruled out more than half the people here.”

Shane nods, eyes focused on something far away. “That’s good, I guess. I could probably also beef up our computer security. I can install some code that will notify us if certain files are opened by anyone but you or me.”

“That’s brilliant, Shane,” I say, leaning back in my chair. Of course it’s brilliant. He’s the one with the computer know-how. I should have realized he’d have a solution like this.

“Yeah. If only you’d told me about this sooner,” he says through gritted teeth.

I hold my hands out. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Shame fills my chest, and I hang my head. “Honestly, part of the reason I didn’t tell you right away was because I wasn’t sure if maybe you…” I can’t even bring myself to finish the sentence, but I don’t have to. Shane seems to understand, and he shakes his head.

“Seriously, man?”

“I’m the worst.”

In all honesty, it was a worry I didn’t even admit to myself. It would have been the worst possible scenario and the ultimate betrayal. The more Junie and I looked into things, the more apparent it became that Shane wasn’t involved, but I was still relieved by his reaction to the article I showed him. That, more than anything, was as good as cold, hard proof.

He doesn’t answer for a beat. “I guess I can’t blame you. If I’d caught onto it first, I probably would have looked into you right away too. There’s a lot of money in this stuff, and I’ve heard of plenty of people who’ve been betrayed by someone they thought they trusted. Still, I don’t think I would have waited this long.”

“I know. I never should have doubted you. I know how protective you are of your tech.”

An alarm goes off on my phone, notifying me that it’s almost eight o’clock and time to wrap things up so we can get started with the rest of the work day. We give each other a brief hug. It’s less of a hug and more one of a pound-each-other-on-the-back exchange. Things don’t feel completely settled between us, but it’s better than what it was, and I look forward to smoothing everything out over time.

“Can I treat you to dinner again sometime?” I say as we separate.

Shane smirks. “You know, you can’t always expect to buy my forgiveness back with expensive food.”

“Yeah, yeah. Text me with where you want to go and when.”

“Sure thing. Or maybe you could pay for a little dinner out for me and Junie.”

“What?” My blood immediately goes hot, and something that feels similar to panic rises in my chest, which is weird because I have zero feelings for Junie.

“Kidding,” Shane says as he exits my office, giving me a cheesy grin.

I turn the opacity of my windows off to watch him walk away. I half expect him to stop and flirt with Junie, but she’s already in the company of a few other guys, so he tips his head to her as he passes. She smiles and waves, then turns her attention back to the other men in front of her.

“Careful, Owen, or your face will freeze like that.”

I jump at the sound of my sister’s voice. She’s standing right in front of my desk, but I have no idea how long she’s been there or how long I’ve been staring at Junie. “Huh? What?”

“Your face.” She points. “The one that makes it look like you’ve been force-fed a rotten apple. It’s going to freeze like that sooner or later.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help looking back at the scene unfolding beyond my windows. It’s a scene that repeats itself every morning around this time, and one that makes me more and more upset.

Junie, of course, is popular around the office. This isn’t a bad thing. It’s good, in fact. I’m well aware that the more people like her, the more likely she’ll find out something about the office mole. Like I told Shane, it’s literally the biggest reason I hired her.

Unfortunately, she seems to be extra popular with the single men in the office.

Currently, there are three of them circled around her, hanging on her every word. She’s no doubt telling them some funny anecdote from her morning. It’s a disgusting use of company time. Why get to the office early if you’re going to waste it socializing?

One of the guys, Wyatt, reaches out and picks something off of Junie’s shoulder. I have the sudden urge to go out there and yell at them all until they slink back to their desks.

It’s a totally unreasonable response, but I feel it all the same, and my therapist says I shouldn’t suppress my feelings, so maybe I should—

Kiera clears her throat.

“Oh, shut up,” I grunt, turning back to my computer. I’m being ridiculous.

Kiera steps closer to me. “What were you even looking—Oh, I see.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” I snap, hating that she caught me. The unmistakable sound of Junie’s laughter filters in through my doorway, and it only makes me scowl harder. This, in combination with the article I showed Shane, is making my grumpy side show.

Actually, it’s probably mostly the article and the mole stuff. That’s the real reason I’m so upset here. My therapist would say I’m misplacing my feelings and all that. I’m stressed, not jealous. Probably.

“No.” Kiera settles into one of the empty chairs and rests her chin in her hand. “I still have a whole five minutes before the work day officially starts. So…you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“About what’s got your panties all in a twist.”

I make a face at her choice of words. “No. I definitely don’t.”

“Why don’t you ask her out?”

“Who?”

“Junie. You’re obviously attracted to her. I could set you two up if you want.”

My face feels like it’s as red as my tie. Kiera has taken it upon herself lately to play matchmaker around the office. It’s been working out so far with the couples she’s set up, but the last thing I need is Kiera thinking she should intervene in my love life. Especially with Junie. My very off-limits employee.

“I am not attracted to her, and your meddling is in no way necessary.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m not. She’s my secretary. End of story.”

Not only that, but she’s a freaking good secretary. Efficient, hard working, detail-oriented, and it’s not only her secretarial skills that are amazing.

She’s been here two weeks—two weeks!—and I hate to admit it, but I already notice a difference in the atmosphere of the office. It’s nothing I can definitively name or quantify, but it’s there nonetheless and, other than the change in the single men, it’s definitely positive.

Even if I did like Junie in that way, I couldn’t put all that in jeopardy for some silly feelings. Especially considering the fact that she’s hoping to make this more of a permanent position.

Maybe if she were planning on leaving after three months, I would consider…

No. No. Not even then.

Even if I did want to put myself above her career aspirations—which I don’t—eventually, she’d come to resent me for the time I put in at work. Or she’d get on her own career path and we’d hardly ever see each other. Maybe some people can make their careers work with relationships, but in my world, it would only end in disaster. My parents proved that.

“Fine, whatever you say.” My sister stands up and starts back toward the door. It’s a wise move, considering I’m about to blow my top and possibly fire her. “Are you going to actually drink the coffee Junie brings you today?”

“What?”

“Nothing! Have a nice day!” Then she runs away as Junie finally untangles herself from the knot of men around her and heads my way. I make it a point to not watch her long legs as they sashay into the room. I’m already in a bad enough mood as it is.

“Good morning, Mr. Ferguson,” Junie sings as she breezes into my office. Today she’s wearing what I’ve come to decide is my favorite shade of lip gloss, the same soft pink she wore her first day here. The willpower it takes to keep from staring at said lips is pure torture in and of itself. But I am nothing if not practiced in the art of smothering my personal desires for the sake of professionalism.

“Here’s your usual.” She sets down my coffee and a pastry on the side of my desk like she always does. She leans over and places something else in front of me, and when she does, her hair falls over her shoulder and I catch a whiff of her fruity shampoo. I maybe inhale a little too deeply and have to cover with a cough.

Okay, so my ability to smother my personal desires is a little rusty. I blame my therapist for that one. Darn feelings and emotions and not suppressing them.

Junie doesn’t seem to notice, thank goodness. “And here are two birthday cards for today. They’re for Octavia and Matt. This time make sure you write more than just your name.”

“I still don’t see why this is necessary,” I say, but I take the pen she hands me nonetheless. I’ve learned the day goes much smoother if we don’t start the morning off with an argument.

“If I have to explain to you why this is absolutely necessary, again, then you’re not half as good a boss as I thought you were.”

She winks at me, and I almost drop my pen. Focus.

I finish signing the cards—yes, with more than just my name—and Junie briefs me on my day. It’s a part of my morning that I’ve come to look forward to. The way she lays it out for me helps me feel grounded and settled.

She’s finishing up when a text buzzes from my phone. Tension knots up my shoulders before I even finish reading it.

Kiera:Code Mom. Repeat: Code Mom. Hiding in bathroom. Let me know when the coast is clear.

“Mr. Ferguson?” Junie’s voice makes me jump. “Is something…” She trails off as she follows my eyes to where we can both see my mother striding in from the elevator, her heels clicking on the floor like she’s trying to pierce the tiles with every step.

This isn’t the first surprise visit from Mother since Junie started working here. In fact, I think her visits have become this frequent because of my new secretary.

“Ugh, seriously? Why is she here, again?” Junie mutters. I’m torn on how to respond because one, I feel the exact same way, but two, I shouldn’t let my secretary talk like that to her boss about her boss’s mother. Should I?

Before I can make any decisions though, Junie turns like a soldier standing at attention. “Sir. Permission to throw down the hammer, sir?”

“Throw down the hammer?”

She stomps one foot. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Don’t worry about the bogey sir, I’ll handle it.”

“What? No. Miss Cousins, you don’t have to—”

“Just pick up your phone and pretend you’re busy.”

I don’t move, and suddenly Junie turns my window opaque. We’re plunged into a sudden sense of intimacy and closeness that wasn’t there before. Then she’s in my personal space, reaching across me and my desk to pick up the phone. I register the heat from her body and the silken fabric from her shirt, and then the phone is shoved into my hand.

Before I can say anything, Junie is out of my office and closing the door behind her right as my mother reaches her.

“Ms. Burton, what a surprise.” Junie’s cheerful secretary voice is extra loud and only slightly muffled by the closed door. “I don’t have you on the schedule this morning.”

I can’t see what’s going on, but my imagination is having a heyday picturing the reaction Mother must be having to this. “Of course you don’t. This is a surprise visit.”

“I’m so sorry, but Mr. Ferguson has a busy schedule this morning. He’s on the phone with a supplier right now, in fact. If you’re not on the schedule, I’m afraid he won’t be able to see you today.”

Oh. My. Gosh.

“Won’t be able to see me?” Even through the door, I can hear that dangerous note enter Mother’s voice. “Do you know who I am?”

“I’m well aware of who you are, Ms. Burton, and I’m also aware of my duties as Mr. Ferguson’s secretary.”

“This is ridiculous. Move aside. I have business with my son.”

“If this is truly a business call, then I’m sure you won’t mind scheduling a time to meet with Mr. Ferguson. If it is a personal call, then you shouldn’t have a problem speaking with your son after office hours.”

I’ve completely forgotten the fake phone call I’m supposed to be having. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What should I do? Rush out there and save Junie from an early death? Tell Mom it was a joke and hope she takes it out on me instead of Junie?

No one speaks to Cynthia Burton that way unless they have a death wish.

“Let’s see, does Thursday afternoon work?” Junie asks.

No response.

“I’m afraid that’s the next available time slot I have for your son.”

“No, that does not work. Either you let me through, or I’ll see to it that you’re fired.”

“I don’t think you can fire me, Ms. Burton, but I’d like to see you try. Only Mr. Ferguson can do that, and he won’t. Want to know why? Because I’m the best freaking secretary he’s ever had. He told me so this morning. Now, either kindly let me pencil you in for Thursday, or you can take your poor manners and leave.”

There’s a long silence. Oh, how I wish I had video surveillance in that little hallway for this.

Then, the silence is pierced by the sound of heels clacking on the tile floor like gunshots. They grow further and further away until they’re completely gone, and finally, after what feels like a long time, someone in the office starts slow clapping.

I’m not kidding.

One slow clap follows another, and soon, there’s a full-on round of applause happening out there. I clear my window in time to see Junie spinning into a curtsy. The applause immediately peters out, I assume because of me, and heads duck back down to their work. Junie’s gaze finds mine, and the smile fades from her face.

I should say something. Thank her. Tell her that she is, in fact, an amazing secretary.

But something inside stops me. I shouldn’t be encouraging this type of behavior. It isn’t professional.

Screw professionalism. She stood up to my mother.

The unspoken compliment rests on the tip of my tongue. I’m about to say it…until my father’s voice pops into my head.

“Above all else, you must be professional with your employees, Owen. Especially those of the opposite gender. Otherwise, you’ll regret it someday. Unless you take after your mother, that is.”

The compliment dies, and the memory leaves me scowling.

“Clear my schedule for the morning, Miss Cousins,” I grunt, turning my back to her. “I don’t want to be disturbed.” Then I darken my windows again, which feels about as loud as slamming a door in her face.