Chapter 10
Bennett didn't call again that day.
He called a trustee instead.
At nine Thursday morning, Mallory entered my office and closed the door behind her.
“We have a problem with Larkin.”
She held out her tablet. An email from Theodore Walsh, chair of the conservatory's finance committee, requested an immediate review of our contract.
He'd been informed that I was engaged in an undisclosed personal relationship with the executive director while experiencing “significant marital instability.”
The phrasing was pure Bennett. Personal cruelty packaged as professional concern.
“Who else has this?” I asked.
“Nate, the board chair and legal counsel.”
“No vendors?”
“Not yet.”
I checked the time. “Move the eleven o'clock production call to you. Ask Priya to send every version of the bid, approval chain and vendor declaration to my conference room. Then call Larkin and schedule us for ten.”
Mallory didn't move. “Are you all right?”
“No. But I know where the paperwork is.”
At the conservatory, Nate was waiting outside the boardroom. He held a printed copy of Bennett's email with notes in the margin.
“I'm calling him,” he said.
“You aren't.”
“He has accused you of manipulating a contract.”
“He has suggested it. Carefully. Because he knows exactly how to damage someone without making a statement he can be sued over.”
“Then I'll make it clear this started after the contract was awarded.”
“In what capacity? As the executive director defending his girlfriend?”
Nate's face hardened. “I won't stand here while he does this.”
“Then sit down and let me handle my client.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
He stepped back. “Fine.”
Inside, Theodore Walsh sat beside the board chair and general counsel. Nate took the chair at the end of the table. He didn't look at me.
I placed a slim folder in front of each person.
“Rowan Events won this contract in March,” I said.
“The final budget was approved in May. My first social meeting with Mr. Delaney took place last week.
To remove any concern going forward, I am transferring all vendor selection and financial approvals to my senior producer, Mallory Chen, effective today.
I'll remain creative director and client lead unless the board prefers otherwise.”
Theodore opened the folder. “Why wasn't the relationship disclosed immediately?”
“Because two dinners didn't alter a contract awarded months earlier. I'm disclosing it now because someone has attempted to use my private life to create doubt about my work.”
“Your husband says you're acting erratically.”
“My estranged husband is having an affair. I have filed for divorce. He learned I was dating and contacted you less than twelve hours later.”
The board chair removed her glasses. “Is he connected to the conservatory?”
“No.”
“A donor?”
“No.”
“Then why did Mr. Walsh entertain the call?”
Theodore's face reddened. “Bennett placed my nephew last year. I believed the information warranted a review.”
“A review is reasonable,” I said. “The records are there.”
For twenty minutes we walked through dates and approvals. The contract predated my first date with Nate. The records protected the work when Bennett attacked the person.
The protection still cost us. Theodore demanded weekly reports, freelancers heard enough to fear cancellation and Mallory lost hours containing the rumor. Bennett hadn't destroyed anything, but he'd created work for every woman in the room.
That detail made me angrier than the accusation. He knew exactly how many hours a rumor could steal.
At the end, the board chair closed her folder.
“The contract stands. Ms. Bains will assume the approvals as proposed. Mr. Walsh, future concerns about vendors should go through counsel before we convene an emergency meeting.”
Afterward, Mallory asked why I'd put her in charge of approvals.
“You've been doing half the job while I kept all the signatures. I'm correcting an oversight during a scandal. The timing is Bennett's fault.”
“For what it's worth, no one in the office believes him.”
“He called the person who could cost us money. He underestimated the filing system.”
“Most men do.”
Outside, Nate followed me into the palm house.
“You shouldn't have had to do that,” he said.
“No.”
“I want his number.”
“Absolutely not. I stopped him. If you threaten him now, you'll make his story about the irrational wife and the executive protecting her look true.”
Nate looked away, jaw tight.
My phone rang. Bennett.
I answered on speaker.
“The petition arrived at my office,” he said.
“Good.”
“You blindsided me.”
Nate gave a disbelieving laugh.
Bennett heard it. “Is he there?”
“You called my client to damage my company.”
“I raised a legitimate concern. You're sleeping with an executive who controls a six-figure contract.”
“You don't know who I'm sleeping with. The contract was awarded before our first date, and you knew that because I told you about the project for months.”
“I was protecting you from a mistake.”
“You were punishing me for accepting your rules.”
“This isn't you, Claire.”
I looked around the glasshouse I'd helped turn into a million-dollar promise.
“You haven't been paying attention.”
I ended the call.
Nate reached for me. I stepped back before he could touch me.
“Don't,” I said.
This time, he understood that I meant more than the call.