40. Lauren
40
Lauren
“Gentlemen, can we please come to order?” I call out, impatiently tapping my palm on the conference table. We’ve been sitting in this meeting room for fifteen minutes without completing a single item on our agenda.
On my right, Oliver snorts and rolls his eyes at Francis, our Finance VP sitting across from him. As I open my mouth to address the first item on our to-do list, Oliver continues loudly, “Seriously, dude. I’ll give you the keys to the fucking city if the Lakers beat the Knicks again tomorrow night. In other words, no fucking way.”
This is how it has been since we got in here. Francis, an import from LA, argues with Oliver, born and bred in New York, about the outcome of tomorrow’s big game. I’m not a basketball fan, and I don’t care for the conversation. Even if I was, this is not the time and place. Our quarterly reports are almost due, and I don’t want Dad breathing down my neck. He’s already convinced I can’t handle running this team.
“Guys, please,” I say wearily as they launch into an argument about which team has the better stats, rings, and MVPs. “There’s only forty-five minutes left. ”
Our quarterly head of department meetings are always a headache, but today feels different. It feels worse. A heavy tension has been floating around the room since I came in. It’s usually easy to tell where it’s coming from, since these guys are always out for my blood, but I don’t believe they’re the reason for this suffocating sensation.
My eyes shift to the guy sitting across the table from me.
If those sharp stares were daggers, I’d already be slumped over this table, bleeding out. I don’t understand why he keeps looking at me like that. Ever since we had dinner a week ago, he’s been acting strange. I’d kept my distance. In the times when I had no choice but to interact with him, I’d been professional and pleasant. For some reason, it made things worse. Colin has gone from the chirpy guy who occasionally brought me coffee to this dark, broody man with nothing but one-word answers.
It’s disheartening. I really thought I’d found an ally.
“Alright, alright, ladies, settle down,” Oliver calls out good-naturedly, his loud voice clashing with the babble of laughter and chatter in the room. He winks at me as the room goes silent, and I suppress the urge to flip him the bird.
Flipping open the folder once more, I resume the meeting while keeping my fingers crossed against any further interruptions. One by one, each department presents their performance report for the quarter, and I breathe a resounding sigh when Oliver finally sits down. No drama, no antics. I’m happy. Now, it’s Colin’s turn.
I gesture to him with a smile, one he doesn’t return. “Over to you, Colin.”
“Yeah…” He reclines in his seat. “I’m going to need more time.”
“Need more—” I gape at him, shut my mouth, then gape at him again. “More time for what?”
“The report’s not ready yet,” he replies casually .
I half-chuckle, aware that everyone is now sitting up straight in their seats, all eyes trained on us. “Is this a joke?”
“Nope.”
Who the hell is this guy? “Colin, you have the same time frame as every VP in this room. What do you mean, it’s not ready?”
He shrugs. “I ran out of time. I’m still being brought up to speed.”
The urge to shake that deadpan look off his face is so strong. I try to suppress it with a hard swallow. “The annual report is due in a month,” I point out as calmly as I can.
“Not my problem, Boss ,” he throws back mockingly.
Light chuckle floats around the room, and my entire face gets warm.
Seriously, who the fuck is this guy?
“Meeting adjourned,” I announce stiffly, rising from my seat. “Colin, I’d like to see you in my office. Now .”
As I march toward the door, he replies, “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it right here.”
I whip around, incensed. “That wasn’t a request, Colin. You show up to my office, or consider yourself suspended for insubordination.”
“Suspended?” He stands slowly, one hand gripping the back of his chair. “You can’t suspend me, you fucking cunt.”
Several gasps sound as my face heats again. “You are way out of line.”
“And you’re a fucking tease.” He steps toward me. “An unfair, entitled little cunt who fucks with people’s hearts—”
“You’re fired.” My voice comes out trembling whisper, but from the way his eyes widen, I’m sure he heard it. Clearing my throat, I go on. “You have an hour to clear your desk and leave this building, or I’ll have security throw you out.”
“You can’t fire me, you incompetent bitch,” he snaps. “Know your fucking labor laws. I will sue the shit out of you. Try me. ”
My mind is so discombobulated at this point, I don’t understand what’s happening here. How did we get to this point? “Colin, I don’t need the drama. Just leave. I’ll ensure you’re given a decent severance—”
“Fuck your severance and fuck you!” he bellows, launching at me. My hands fly up instinctively, and I brace for an attack that never comes.
Oliver grabs him by the throat, pulling him back. Without missing a beat, I turn tail and run, not stopping until I’m safely inside my office. Trembling fingers secure the lock, and I rush to my chair, sitting behind the desk and watching the door with my hands clasped, as if I expect Colin to burst through at any moment.
It takes a few minutes for me to stop trembling, then I call security to inform them of what happened. They’ll escort him out. Until then, I won’t leave this room. I also text message Andrew so he can be extra vigilant when coming to pick me up.
Next, I call my dad.
Sadly, it’s not only Colin’s last day working for Cain Industries—it’s also mine.
I’m tired.
I tried.
Running a company is not as easy as I thought it would be. It’s not even easy. Misogyny is like an infection running through the walls and floors of this building, and there’s no cure. Boss’ daughter or not, these men will never respect me.
Three tries later, and with no success getting through to Dad, I give it a rest. It’s probably a sign I need to wait until my emotions are in check and my head is clear. I need to talk to someone.
Reaching for the phone again, I open my speed-dial list for Gabriel’s number, but instead, I select Marcus’. The heart wants what the heart wants, I guess. I’m still mad at him for trying to mark his territory the other night, but right now, I need to hear his voice.
It rings to voicemail, and I don’t bother trying again. I try Gabriel’s. No answer either. Is everyone avoiding me today?
Frustrated, I throw the phone on my desk—
Boom!
The sudden pounding on the door makes me jump. I glance around my cluttered desk, the industrial stapler my only weapon. I press the button to un-frost the door and see Oliver standing there, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other raised in midair. He drops it and jerks his head toward the door. With a sigh, I open it.
“If you’re coming to add to the disrespect, save it,” I tell him as he walks in. “I’ve had enough for today.”
Oliver shakes his head. There’s no sign of a smirk anywhere. “I came to tell you we helped Colin pack and escorted him from the building. We, uh… gently convinced him it would be in his best interests to stay away from you.”
My brows shoot up. “Did you put your hands on him?”
He smirks now. “I have my ways, but I’m not stupid. No, it was more of a verbal encouragement.”
“I don’t even want to know the details, honestly,” I reply, throwing my hands up. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Oliver replies then turns to go. At the door, he stops and looks back at me. “No one gets to push you around but us.”
He goes out with a loud laugh, closing the door on my biting response. Just when I thought he had a redeemable quality.
Jerk.
The chirping of my cell phone alerts me to a message from Andrew. Wow. That was fast .
I gather my things and hurry out of the office, almost bumping into Maxwell in hallway. He gives me an uncertain smile as I try to move past him.
“Do you want me to follow you out?” He shrugs. “Just in case.”
Obviously, he heard about what happened. I shake my head. “They got him off the compound, so I should be fine.”
He nods and I walk off. There’s no way today can get any weirder. There must be an eclipse I didn’t know about.
Andrew is waiting by the elevator when the doors open to the underground garage. He quickly takes my bags, and as he hustles me into the SUV, my cell phone vibrates. I read the message on the screen, scoffing. Finally.
“Andrew, take me to Gabriel’s please,” I instruct.
I can’t keep all this to myself anymore.