Chapter 13 Grafton
Grafton
Christopher draws up short as soon as he enters my office, his eyes flicking from me to the two others in the room.
He recognizes Vicky, Reynolds & Media’s head of HR, sitting in front of my desk, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty when his eyes land on Oliver, who’s standing silently behind me, back braced against one of the windows and arms crossed over his chest.
He noticeably pauses before his focus slides to me, his jaw tightening. I bite back a smile, knowing I can’t tip off my hand yet. As much as I’m enjoying toying with this motherfucker, I’m still bound by employment laws and rules, which means playing this by the book.
But he must see the humor hidden on my face, because he flushes, his eyes glittering angrily.
“Christopher,” I drawl, clasping my hands together on top of the desk.
“Thank you for joining us, especially on such short notice.” I bare my teeth in polite mockery of a smile.
His nostrils flare, unable to hide his agitation, but he’s got enough self-preservation instincts to keep his mouth shut.
“Take a seat.” I tip my chin at the free chair in front of me, and he takes it, perspiration beading on his forehead.
“What’s this about?” he asks, not looking to his left, where Vicky is sitting with her legs crossed, a tablet clutched tightly in her hands. “If this is about Oceanic—”
I interrupt. “Do you think it’s about Oceanic?”
“I just found out my assistant sabotaged me,” he says, voice rising an octave. My eyebrows creep up my forehead, but he keeps going. “She deliberately gave me the wrong numbers, and I know she’s done it before. The Burnham account—”
“Ah, yes. The Burnham account,” Oliver mutters from behind me, and Christopher’s furious stare flickers in his direction.
“Who the hell are you?” he demands, all superiority and hot air.
Oliver chuckles. “Oliver Kent. I’m head of Reynolds & Media’s legal counsel, but it doesn’t surprise me a bit that you don’t know that.”
Christopher pales dramatically, because if he knows anything, he knows there’s no good reason that the head of HR and the head of legal would be joining in on an impromptu meeting with the CEO and an employee.
His eyes frantically search mine. “You can’t be serious.” There’s an edge of desperation there, his arrogance deflating faster than a popped balloon—and I’m enjoying the hell out of it. “I just told you, my assistant did this. You need to talk to Gail.”
“We already have,” Vicky says, glancing down at the tablet, taking the lead as we discussed beforehand. “How long has Gail been your assistant?”
“Four years,” he mutters back, shoulders going rigid. “How could you have already talked to her? The Oceanic meeting only just happened.” He’s talking more to himself. Vicky doesn’t bother to respond.
“And in all that time, you’ve never filed a single complaint against her,” she says. It’s not a question, but he nods anyway. “Do you have any proof that she tampered with the numbers on either the Burnham or Oceanic accounts?”
“We already had IT look into the issue,” Oliver adds coolly. “According to their report, once your team handed the documents over to you, they weren’t accessed by anyone else.”
Christopher opens his mouth, but I see it when reality crashes into him—the moment he realizes what I already know. His word against Gail’s isn’t enough here. Not when everything points to him. His jaw works as he grinds his teeth, but after a beat, he only offers a quiet, “No.”
Oliver snorts. I lean back in my chair, swiping a thumb over my lips to cover the smirk.
“Unfortunately, your handling of these two accounts isn’t our only concern.
” Vicky’s tone is professional, but there’s a steely undercurrent to it that has Christopher stiffening.
“Reynolds & Media prides itself on our ethics, as well as the image we project to the public. Lately, your behavior suggests that your values, and the image you present, no longer align with ours.”
“What—” He shakes his head, his mouth tightening. “What does that mean?”
Vicky lifts her eyes to his, offering a close-lipped smile that never touches the chill in her expression.
“It means that if we expect clients to trust us with their branding, trust us to curate their image, we have to uphold our own. If ours is questionable, why would they believe we can elevate theirs? We’re in the business of loyalty, Christopher.
Our clients need to feel confident that our agency will strengthen their visibility, their reputation, and, ultimately, their bottom line. ”
“I know all this,” he says, a little dumbstruck. “I’ve worked for Reynolds & Media for years. I’ve brought in millions through my contracts, my accounts. People ask for me by name.”
“Interesting,” Vicky says flatly. “Then you’ll be able to explain why you thought installing cameras in your office was a good idea, especially when they’re connected to the company server.”
With each damning word, more color drains from Christopher’s face, leaving him a sweaty, pale mess. “C-cameras?”
Oliver steps forward, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, his smile grim when Christopher turns to face him.
“Correct. Your office space is company property. In fact, you signed an employment contract that had the company’s connected devices and data policy on it, which clearly states that any device—hardware or software—that connects to the company’s server will be treated as company property.
The policy also made it clear that our security team would have the ability to review that access and audit the content at any time. ”
Christopher inhales sharply, his hands tightening into fists on the armrest of his chair. “I wasn’t aware.”
Vicky hums thoughtfully. “Are you telling us you never saw or read that policy when you signed the contract?”
“No, I did… I must have. I just…”
I lean forward, giving him a mock-concerned look. “I’m sure you can understand the predicament you’ve put us in, Christopher. If the footage we’ve all seen was to be released…” I tilt my head, lips pursed.
“You’ve all seen it?” he asks in dawning horror.
“Enough to know that office should be fumigated,” Oliver mutters, ignoring the cutting look Vicky slides his way.
“Yes, we’ve seen it,” she tells Christopher curtly.
“Now, our concern isn’t just that you’re head of accounts, and engaging in seriously inappropriate sexual acts on company property, both during and after work hours, but that you’re also very publicly married, and with young children.
” She pauses, eyes flicking down to his wedding band with disdain.
“Look, I can explain. I never…” He clears his throat, fingers yanking at his shirt collar. “The cameras—”
“I hope you’re not about to imply that the footage we now have has been doctored in some way,” Oliver interjects, tone condescending. “Maybe just as the documents only you accessed were also tampered with?”
Christopher stares back at him mutinously, fairly vibrating with tension, but he does the smart thing—for once—and doesn’t say a thing.
I stand up, drawing his attention as I pin him with a stare. “Well, then,” I say, almost regretfully, “you’ll understand why we can no longer continue your employment at Reynolds & Media Co.—effective immediately. Due to the nature of the violations, no severance package will be offered.”
“And I’d advise against requesting a reference,” Oliver adds.
Christopher shakes his head. “You can’t do this. I’ve worked here for years.” His expression is accusatory as he snarls at me. “I’ve made this company millions of dollars, and I deserve a part of that!”
“Unfortunately, you could lose us far more than a few million if we decide to keep you around,” I retort calmly, leaning forward to press the button that connects the phone on the desk to my assistant.
As soon as she answers, I say, “Judith, could you let security know we’re ready for them?
” I wait for her confirmation before facing Christopher again.
“Security will escort you to your office, and then off the premises. You’ll be required to hand in everything that is considered company property, as well as your name badge.
If you’d like to appeal our decision, you’re welcome to do so by seeking your own counsel.
But I can already tell you it won’t help. ”
“I have a family,” he says weakly. “I can’t lose my job.”
I straighten up, crossing my arms over my chest. “I know all about your family,” I say succinctly. “I actually met Lynley the other day.”
He stands abruptly, his voice loud as he demands, “You met my wife? How?”
I flash my teeth at him again in a smile that is far less polite and more bloodthirsty. He flinches back, and the smile widens into a grin.
“That’s not important,” I say, just as there’s a firm knock on the door. “But I wouldn’t plan on her being your wife for much longer.”