Chapter 1 #2
Roger Coleman was the smarmiest, most disgusting man I’d ever met, but he was also damn good at hiding his true nature.
He’d held his position at Triton Construction for well over a decade and was an established member of the good ‘ol boys club.
A brotherhood of men led by the owner of the company—a man who also happened to be my father.
Dad had built Triton into the largest construction company in New York with a lifetime of dedication and a ruthless mind for business.
Triton was his pride and joy, and I desperately wanted to join him at the helm of his company.
More than anything, I wanted to make my father proud, and I wouldn’t accomplish that by running to him every time I had a problem.
I needed to handle Roger on my own. He was just a misogynic sleaze, after all.
If I could grow a spine and be firm with him, he wouldn’t be an issue.
Admittedly, I’d done an abysmal job so far.
I wasn’t the best at handling conflict, and he always seemed to catch me off guard.
No matter how many scenarios I rehearsed in my head, his veiled innuendo and unsettling looks left me speechless.
I’d heard of fight or flight, but my default setting was most definitely to freeze, and overcoming that instinct had proven more challenging than I’d hoped.
Roger’s advances had started out small—telling me how lovely I looked or commenting on my hair or eyes.
In romance novels, having an older executive pursue the young professional sounded sexy and exciting, but when my fifty-five-year-old boss with a fake-and-bake tan and leathery skin started hitting on me, it was repulsive and unsettling.
I’d done my best to discretely brush aside his advances and discourage his behavior in the hopes he would take the hint and move on, but after a year of working in the office, he had yet to cease his efforts.
Only once had his pursuit escalated to a physical level.
Six months ago, at the company Christmas party he cornered me in a hallway and pressed me against a wall, his dick thrust against my stomach.
He’d been drinking heavily, and I made the mistake of walking to a restroom alone.
I’d been so repulsed and terrified, I didn’t even hear the unquestionably revolting comment he made.
I gave a stuttered excuse and tore from his grasp, leaving the party without another word.
The incident had been seared into my brain.
I tried to tell myself it was an isolated incident that wouldn’t have happened had alcohol not been present, but I couldn’t shake the lingering anxiety that he’d try again.
I took every effort to distance myself from the man, both professionally and physically.
I made certain I pulled in coworkers to help on projects, so there was always an extra set of eyes working with us.
Our offices, along with several others in the suite, were constructed with glass walls, which helped give me a certain degree of security—no hiding behind closed doors outside of the conference or break room.
Another fortifying fact—Roger’s advances weren’t a daily affair, not even weekly.
The problem wasn’t their frequency; it was the uncertainty of not knowing when they might occur that was the most stressful.
This week I was in for a treat. Today was the only day I’d have to deal with Roger before he left on a week-long business trip to L.A.
I could survive one day with the devil.
Most of the morning passed uneventfully. I was left to my own devices, preparing for a full week of project meetings and impending deadlines. It wasn’t until almost eleven when the intercom on my phone blared with Roger’s voice.
“Alessia, can you come in here, please?”
A seemingly harmless request, but it stirred an overwhelming sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.
I didn’t answer—there was no need. He could see me as I stood from my chair and made my way to his office next door.
While I didn’t so much as glance his direction, I had no doubt his beady eyes would follow my every step.
Our offices lined the outer wall of windows—the glass walls allowing the rest of the employees to enjoy the soaring views from our building.
It was a double-edged sword—no privacy was a good thing, but it also meant there was no escaping Roger’s stare.
“Did you need something?” I stopped several feet from his small conference table where he’d laid out his presentation materials.
“You sure you can’t come with me? You know the material as well as I do and would be an enormous help when I make the pitch. It’s not too late to get you a ticket.” He arched a brow, hands propped on his hips where he stood on the opposite side of the table.
“My sisters would kill me if I’m not there to help get ready for Mom’s party this weekend. It’s her fiftieth and—”
“I know, I know,” he cut me off as I began to blather about my mother’s pretend birthday.
She’d turned fifty years ago, but the party had been the best excuse I’d come up with on the spot when Roger had initially asked me to accompany him on the trip.
There was no way in hell I was traveling with the man.
Fortunately, he hadn’t bothered verifying my story, so I continued to uphold the ruse.
“You told me already. Well, get over here and let’s run through everything one more time before I head to the airport.” He waved me over with a frown, clearly disgruntled I hadn’t caved to his pressure to accompany him.
The project was a relatively minor remodel proposal for a building in Brooklyn owned by a corporation headquartered on the opposite coast. I’d worked on the project along with a couple other people from our team.
It was too small-scale for Roger to do the grunt work, but he was presenting our proposal because the contact was a friend of his.
We had already given him all the pertinent information on multiple occasions, so I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.
The chairs had been pulled around to clump on my side of the table with the various documents and exhibits spread out for viewing from the other side. His setup left little option except to come around to his side of the table, but I kept as much distance between us as was reasonably possible.
“It looks like everything is here,” I offered as I perused the materials.
“What about the schedule of work?” he asked as he leaned forward to retrieve the document.
“I noticed we listed a completion timeframe of six months, but I thought we had discussed moving that out to nine.” His right hand snaked out to curl around my waist and pull me next to him while his other hand held out the document as if showing me its contents was the purpose behind his flagrant violation of my personal space.
Stunned by his action, I took the papers and stared at them dumbly.
I didn’t see the words on the page—I was entirely focused inside my head where my thoughts raced at a frenzied pace in an attempt to grasp my situation.
My boss’s hand lingered at my lower back, the insidious warmth seeping into my skin, before slowly dropping down to caress over the curve of my ass cheek.
I ceased breathing, and my ears began to ring.
His repulsive touch in such a private area made my skin crawl, but I couldn’t seem to move a muscle.
I was frozen—horror battling with mortification.
The glass walls gave me a perfect view of the bustling office where a dozen employees scurried about their business.
Never in a thousand years had I imagined he would make a move on me in plain sight of our coworkers, but he’d done a masterful job keeping his actions unseen.
To all the world, we looked as though we were simply examining a document—his wandering hand only visible to the New York skyline out our tenth-floor windows.
“Um … we decided … to subcontract the welding work,” I sputtered out.
“Our guys will be busy on the Merchant project. Outsourcing will enable us to keep the six-month timeline the client requested.” As I said the words, I frantically debated what to do.
If I allowed him to continue touching me, it would no doubt encourage the asshole to take more liberties.
If I confronted him or in any way made a scene, the entire office would know in seconds.
Before I had a chance to decide, the intercom in his office crackled to life.
“Mr. Coleman, your flight leaves in two hours.”
The instant his assistant, Beverly, began to speak, I pulled out of his grasp and fled the office. Bypassing my own office, I hurried to the restrooms and locked myself in a stall. Leaning against the door, head back and eyes closed, I tried to regulate my erratic heartrate.
Did that really just happen?
Could I have imagined the whole thing? Surely, my boss hadn’t assaulted me in front of the entire office.
As much as I wished it had been a nightmare, it wasn’t.
Each agonizing second had played out in living color, and I had stood immobile like a squirrel starring down an approaching car.
What was wrong with me? Why hadn’t I pulled away instantly?
Why hadn’t I swallowed my pride and told my father the truth months ago or just turned Roger’s balding ass into HR?
I’d had my reasons at the time, but they seemed less and less valid with each new day.
My conflict and self-doubt brought on a barrage of guilt and blame that bowed my shoulders with their oppressive weight.
I needed to get out of the building.
I exited the stall and went through the motions of washing my hands before walking to my office with my eyes lowered to the geometric patterns of the grey commercial carpeting.
Grabbing my phone, I texted my cousin to move up our lunch date, then snagged my purse and scurried out of my office.
Normally, I would inform a coworker if I was leaving early, but I couldn’t do it.
I felt exposed—like anyone who looked at me would know what I had allowed to happen.
I couldn’t force myself to take that chance—to let them see the shame in my eyes.
Instead, I kept my head down and hurried out the closest exit.
I couldn’t allow my boss’s behavior to continue.
The realization was daunting.
Now, I just had to figure out what I was going to do about it.
Would I confront Roger myself? Would I file a complaint with HR or go straight to my father?
If I told my dad, would he believe me or think I was overreacting?
Roger was his friend, after all. And if Roger wasn’t immediately fired, would he know I’d reported him?
How would a man with such little moral character respond when he found out I’d put his job in jeopardy?
The possibilities paralyzed me.
You have the rest of the week to figure it out, Les. Try not to panic.
I wasn’t normally the type to procrastinate, but in this case, I needed time to process. I needed to talk through everything and make sure I took the proper steps, because once I started that ball rolling, there would be no stopping it.
Fortunately for me, I already had lunch scheduled with my cousin, Giada.
She would be the perfect sounding board.
Until then, I would ignore all thoughts of Roger to protect my sanity.
I shoved the incident into a dark corner of my mind—somewhere next to the misery of my first period and getting lost as a child in the subway—and prayed my dramatic morning had no more surprises in store for me.