Chapter 8 Veda
VEDA
My brain hurt. I'd been staring at the press release Jared gave me to go over for so long, my eyes were bugging out and I wasn't able to follow a single line across the page without using my finger to track it.
The words all melded together until they were mush on a page and my head physically throbbed in pain.
It was later than I was supposed to stay, but when the team of interns got ripped apart by the boss, someone had to double-check their work and make it right.
Jared did a decent job, but his commitment to this went as far as the time on the clock allowed it.
He wasn't here because it was something he was passionate about. I could tell this was just a pitstop on the way to wherever he was going.
But to me, it was a literal life preserver.
This job, babysitting gig or not, had the potential on my resume to make or break my career.
I could not keep living on random tips from men at a bar, flirting my way through life to make rent. I had dreams and goals, and I wanted to go somewhere.
So I sat here an hour after everyone else left work to proofread the entire thing again after fixing obvious mistakes.
I didn't even know who else was in the building with me except that I had a perfect view of Asher's office door from where I sat, and I hadn’t seen him leave.
What I did see, however, was when Clayton marched past in a huff and went straight into that room.
He didn't even have the decency to make sure the door was closed before tearing into Asher for what he called "mismanagement of funds".
Their voices had been raised for the past twenty minutes, and I tried hard not to listen in, but it was hard not to hear what they were saying.
The sibling rivalry pushed boundaries at times. I could see that in the work dynamic.
But this went beyond that.
It sounded like Asher had made a choice his board chairman disagreed with and beyond their utter distaste for each other, there was some hostility over how decisions were being made within the company.
Clayton was so angry, it made Asher's outbursts at me my first few days here seem like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn.
I kept my head down and attempted to refocus my mind, but when Asher's door slammed shut, I sat straight up.
I couldn’t help myself. My eyes went directly to his door where Clayton had emerged with wide, red eyes and a snarl on his face.
He looked like a madman running out of an asylum or something, and I wanted to hide. It made me wish I'd have just slipped out and gone home while they were shouting, if for no other reason than to avoid an interaction with him when he was angry.
He scared me sometimes.
But he zeroed in on me the instant he saw me watching him and marched over to my desk in the corner of the communications unit. His tie was loosened, jacket draped over his arm, and he stalked like a beast prowling. I had nowhere to run or hide.
All I could do was sit and wait for him to attack, and I could see in his eyes that he had no intention of just walking right past me.
"Porter," he hissed, leaning down closer to me. I assumed it was so that Asher didn’t hear.
He had no problem letting his frustration be known behind Asher's office door. This was meant to be contained to my desk only.
"Mr. Locke," I said dryly, hoping he got the point that I wasn't interested in being chewed out.
I did my job well, and while it wasn't the job he specifically asked me to do—or paid me to do—I was helping this company one way or another and earning the salary.
But before he could get a word out, Asher emerged from his office looking just as disheveled as his brother.
He didn't even look up before turning back to lock his door, and I cleared my throat to make sure Clayton knew what I saw.
He glanced over his shoulder and grumbled, "Remember who signs your check," before he stomped off.
I breathed a sigh of relief, though I was under no illusion that would be the end of it.
He'd get wasted and drunk text me later on with more threats and reminders, but for the moment, I was in the clear.
Clayton didn't have to remind me of what I owed him. Every time I saw Asher, I was reminded.
I took that man's money with the intention to help him and so far, I had reneged on my verbal agreement. An agreement he could—and probably would—use against me if I didn't actually come up with something to make the entire board toss Asher to the wolves.
I sighed and stood, deciding the proofreading could wait until the morning.
If Asher was going out, I wanted to walk with him.
That way, there was no chance of Clayton cornering me somewhere. Besides, if he did watch me walking out with Asher, he'd think I was finally doing what I told him I'd do.
It was a win-win.
When Asher walked toward me, I grabbed my coat and purse and stepped out into his path.
He looked rough, like he was beaten down and feeling discouraged. After a blow up like that, I worried that he'd go home and drink himself into a funk again, which he didn’t need.
He'd been doing so well, not drinking at work at all lately, and I wanted him to keep that momentum up.
"Hey," I said quietly as he approached and he looked up at me, seeming dazed. My desires didn't align with what Clayton wanted for me to do at all. I knew that.
I just had a crisis of conscience every time I thought of entrapping Asher into some scandal or lawsuit just to make Clayton feel better that Daddy didn't choose him as CEO.
And I had no way of backing out without coughing up almost half a million dollars to pay him back.
But it didn't stop me from falling into step with Asher as I slid on my coat, hoping to help him relax a little before he got to his car.
"Hi," he said glumly. "You worked late."
"Finishing up the press release…" I sighed. "I heard Mr. Locke blowing up at you…" Wincing, I bit my lower lip as we approached the elevator and he pressed the button.
"Yeah, who didn't hear?" he grunted, and I got the feeling he didn't want to hear it.
His head hung as he stepped onto the elevator and held the door for me, then pressed the P to take us to the underground garage.
The doors slid shut and the carriage started to descend, but we both stood there in awkward silence staring at our feet.
I didn't know a lick about finances or what "horrible mismanagement" Clayton was accusing Asher of, but I felt bad for his having to take the brunt of that awful man's bad attitude.
The elevator hummed downward, fluorescent light flickering once over Asher’s tired face.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, tie askew, sleeves rolled past his forearms.
“God, why can't something go my way for once?” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
I shifted my purse higher on my shoulder. It felt physically painful watching him treat himself like this.
I just wanted to distract him or at least give him something positive to focus on.
So I blurted out, “The press release is almost ready. Jared missed a line in the third paragraph that makes it sound like the foundation grant is already approved when it’s only proposed.
I changed it to ‘Under final consideration by the executive committee.’ It's cleaner that way and can't be twisted. "
Asher’s head lifted. He stared at me for a second, the exhaustion clearing just enough for surprise to register. “That’s… actually perfect. I spent an hour this morning trying to fix that exact sentence and gave up. Thank you.”
The doors opened onto the dim parking garage. Cold air rolled in, carrying the faint smell of exhaust.
Our footsteps echoed as we walked toward his reserved spot where his limo waited, and he seemed a bit lighter now.
“You okay?” I asked quietly. “That was… loud.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
He stopped beside his car, but his head was hanging. “I’ve survived worse from him. I’ll survive this.”
I hesitated. “You’ve been sober here all week. Every day. That’s not nothing, Asher. I just… don’t want tonight to undo it.”
His eyes met mine and softened with understanding. Something raw flickered there before he shuttered it again, though I wished he wouldn't have. “I’m not gonna overdo it, Porter. I promise.” He offered a small, tired smile. “But I appreciate your noticing. It means more than you know.”
The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and my chest tightened.
Part of me wanted him to say something, maybe invite me along with him or to dinner somewhere. But he said, “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
My protest was weak and his insistence was strong.
So we crossed the garage together, past rows of sleeping sedans, until we reached my car tucked in the far corner of visitor parking. I unlocked it and tossed my bag onto the passenger seat.
Asher was a gentleman in every way. He didn't pass off a single crude comment, not a slip of the hand. He didn't even use my given name, which felt bittersweet.
Here I was, supposed to pin this man in a scandal, only to find out that he was the well-behaved brother, if not a little broken. Meanwhile, the one who was really out of control held a noose over my head as a reminder.
Guilt had me tongue-tied, or I'd have asked Asher myself whether he'd like to do something.
“Drive safe,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Tomorrow…” I muttered, sliding behind my wheel.
He waited until my engine turned over and my headlights came on before he walked back to his own car. I watched him in the rearview mirror until he disappeared around the concrete pillar and disappeared.
Then I pounded my fist onto my steering wheel and let my head fall back against the headrest. I hated myself.
Everything inside me was churning and mixed up. This was not supposed to go this way.
It was supposed to be as simple as getting the guy to sleep with me and recording it to use as a pressure tactic.
Now what was I supposed to tell Clayton? That I was falling for his brother because I had no ability to stay objective and judge a man by his horrible actions?
My phone buzzed before I even shifted into reverse and Clayton's number flashed on the screen of my phone lying on the center console. As if my day couldn’t get any worse right now.
I pressed the hands-free button to answer the call and backed out of the space as Clayton's voice came through my speakers.
“Enjoy your little elevator therapy session?” Clayton’s voice was venomous. “Because I didn’t hear a single thing useful on the security feed.”
“There wasn’t anything to hear,” I said, gripping the wheel. I scowled as I put the car into drive and pulled out. "What were you yelling at him for?" I hated this man with every fiber of my being and if I could return his money right now, I would.
The problem was that I had spent a lot of it and there was no getting that back.
The only person I knew who had enough money to even loan me was Asher, and if I even hinted at what I'd been scheming with Clayton, I was screwed.
“Numbers that could ruin him if the right people heard them spun the right way.
Which is exactly what I paid you to do and you've failed to deliver.” He paused on purpose, like he wanted me to squirm.
“Three hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars, Porter. You’ve already spent over half of what I paid you on rent, tuition, that pathetic car repair.
It's money you don’t have to give back, which means you need to come up with something now. "
My pulse hammered in my ears. God, he was so obnoxious and impatient. It'd been two weeks. Did he expect miracles?
“You think I won’t collect?” he continued. “I’ll sue you into the ground. Garnish every paycheck you ever earn. Tell Asher exactly what his sweet little assistant really is… It's your choice.”
The line went dead, and I didn't mean to, but I accelerated a little too quickly leaving the garage and my tires squealed on the pavement.
Half a million dollars in debt to a man who hated his own brother more than he cared about anything else on Earth.
And the only way out was to destroy the man who’d started to trust me and put his life together a little.
Tears pricked my eyes because I knew how this would end. Clayton would win.
Men like him always won because they had money and power.
And women like me?
They were the losers painted to be harlots and gold diggers, but the one who would suffer most would be Asher.
And I was the only one to blame.