Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
rules
MARK
“Graham,” I say into the phone as my old mentor and chair of the board picks up. “Thanks for taking my call.”
“Wonderful to hear from you outside the board, Mark, it’s been too long. What can I do for you?”
“I need to meet with you.” I sound as normal as I can while following the purple blur behind the frosted glass as Rey passes my office.
“I’d be delighted to see you. Did you check with my PA? I don’t know what my calendar looks like.”
“I tried. You’re not available until March next year.”
He laughs, a hearty sound I imagine shakes that large body of his.
“It’s urgent, is it?”
“I’d say so.”
He sighs. “Does it have anything to do with What Happens in Mayfair?”
A cold sensation spreads in my gut. His wife reads that crap. What the fuck has been posted now? Did anyone see Rey at my place?
“I haven’t received the latest PR report, so I can’t say.”
There’s a rumbling sound on the other end, as if he’s muttering under his breath.
“Alright, let me have a look. I’ll squeeze you in for lunch today, and cancel someone I like much less,” he says finally with a chuckle.
“How about The Orion again? I’ve not been since you took me last and I’ve heard the new dim-sum is sublime. ”
The Orion has great food, but it’s also a strategic choice—a private membership club allows for private conversations, which we’ve had our fair share of over the years, but never about my private life.
There’s a light knock on my glass door after I finish the call, and I look up to see Nia, my Head of HR, peering at me over the frosted section.
What does she want?
I wave her in. Unfortunately, I do have time to speak, but I don’t want to. The sight of her brings back the ice to my gut. HR popping in is never good news, especially after what Graham just said. Can it be a coincidence?
“What can I do for you, Nia?” I ask and bite down, hoping my nervousness doesn’t show. Rey doesn’t talk to Nia about personal things, does she? I know they know each other.
Nia smiles and closes the door behind her.
“Two things. Do you want the good or bad news first?”
I sigh. “Good, please. Assuming the latter will need discussion?”
She sits down on the chair in front of my desk without answering.
“I’ll keep it short. We did weekly pulse surveys over the last few months, and we’ll share the results in the report to the board, but I thought I’d let you know that employee morale is looking up.
Way up. It seems the team is content with Horace’s approach, and with you being more visible and involved. ”
“That’s great.”
“The comments show specifically that they enjoy working on the new design.”
“More than one person wrote that?” I’d assume Rey would, of course.
“Yes, several. That’s why I wanted to tell you now, to let you know it seems the team finds this new direction inspiring. Have you thought about offering Horace the creative director role? Give him some more autonomy in the space?”
“No.”
“Oh,” she says, slumping. “I was of the understanding you wanted someone in that role to take the pressure off you, and Horace is proving himself already.”
I lean forward, clasping my hands on my desk. “Horace will have to want it, and he’ll have to apply for it. We’re not giving promotions away. You know this better than anyone.”
“Of course. Except he did apply, and you gave him the art director role instead, which he accepted with the expectation of a step up after probation.”
“He still needs to show he wants it badly enough.”
She nods, knowing my tone says that’s the end of this conversation.
“Now, the bad news,” I say and lean back again, bracing for the worst.
Someone saw you with Rey.
It’s all over the internet.
“Umm, okay, so,” she hesitates, but then clears her throat and straightens her back. “You’re the topic of yesterday’s What Happens in Mayfair and there’s some speculation about a secret affair.”
I furrow my brow at the words, and she shifts in her chair, but I sense there’s more, so I remain silent.
“The discussion is about why it’s a secret,” she continues, eyes scanning my face, “and there are theories floating around that it’s someone from Infinio Games.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, holding her gaze. Calm on the outside, raging on the inside.
Fuck.
Shit.
I take a deep breath, allowing myself to think.
“Okay,” I say. “Thank you for the heads-up. What does the PR team say?”
“Is it true?”
Fuck. I hate lying.
“What do you make of it, Nia?” I ask instead, and steeple my hands in front of me, exuding the calm I’m known for.
“It’s a bunch of bullshit, of course. Excuse my language,” she says, looking indignant. “It’s gossip.”
“It is a gossip blog.”
“I knew you wouldn’t risk your role,” she says, smiling, and I let her think whatever she needs to think.
She stands up and walks to the door.
That was it?
But then she turns back, the smile stiff on her face. “I’ll monitor it closely so it doesn’t escalate.”
There’s the thinly veiled warning I expected from her. She wants to believe me, but she will not repeat the mistakes of the previous HR manager.
“Thank you, Nia.” I nod and turn back to my screen.
I’m going to have to get clearer on just how much trouble I’m in.
My friend Sebastian told me that some of the board members unofficially discussed whether it would be best to replace me along with Damian last year, in case I’d get the company in trouble like him.
I recall Choi Hana’s words from the last board meeting; ‘Let’s outshine the shadow he cast on Infinio with your successes’.
Only good news.
And here I am. In the blog. Company name and all.
For the first time, I read the bloody gossip forum myself, searching through for my name. I usually rely on the PR summary reports, but I can’t wait for that.
Jesus Christ, there’s a fucking picture of me and Rey as Alice and Robin from the May Day masquerade. I read through the comments. It’s all speculation.
I follow the thread through multiple blog posts. More photos. Me on the bench outside.
What the fuck? Who took that?
I keep reading. A vague matching of cars. This is ridiculous. Don’t these people have better things to do?
To the public, it doesn’t matter whether it’s proven—people’s opinions are hard to change once they’ve been made up—but this isn’t enough for the board to get on my case.
Next, I re-read the Code of Conduct I’ve signed multiple times, but never had to think twice about.
I’ve been a dutiful, unwavering, dedicated founder and CEO with no concern of where my boundaries were.
Now I’m stepping into dangerous territory, and I need to understand how bad it is.
One thing is what the board would say; that’s subjective at best considering they largely care about the market’s reaction.
But there it is.
Black on white. I’m breaking company rules.
No fraternisation is allowed between employees where one has power over the other.
A relationship that could affect the company’s reputation must be disclosed to the board.
I’ve been focused on people thinking I’m like Damian, and ignored the real issue. I’ve already crossed a line. Now I need to get back to the other side of it.
“Who is she?” Graham asks, sipping his frothy tropical cocktail.
He knows to take advantage of a free lunch, and how to cut straight to the chase.
Graham’s been on the board since the start, and has been a great advisor to me and Damian (who blatantly ignored him, obviously).
This is the first time I’ve had to discuss myself like this, though, and I’m troubled by the situation.
Damian and I met Graham while still in university.
He guided us through setting up Infinio Games.
He founded five companies and led three of them as CEO.
If there’s anyone’s business advice I’ll take, it’s his.
I trace the rim of my whiskey glass, wondering where to start. “I met her here. She was an atmosphere model.”
“A what?” he asks, cocktail foam stuck on his grey moustache. I explain the little I know about the role.
“I never knew that was a vocation.” He shrugs and waves for me to continue.
“Me neither, but that’s how we met. We stayed in touch, but I didn’t realise she works for Infinio until I was set to meet her again.”
“Why couldn’t you just leave her be?”
I hold his gaze. He’s been with his wife for as long as I’ve known him. Surely he must remember how he felt when they first met.
“I like her.”
He nods, but his focus is on his drink.
“A lot,” I add.
“What does she do at Infinio?” Graham asks, and reaches for another gyoza.
I clear my throat, knowing how bad it’ll sound. “Before I say it, I have to add she’s twenty-nine, but … she’s an intern.”
Graham sits up. “Bloody hell, Mark.” And I know what he’s thinking. The headlines from last year. The power imbalance. It’s not a great story.
I sigh and rub my forehead. “She’s on a six-month contract, four months to go. Could I just disclose the relationship? I know any relationship for me as CEO is against the company code, but maybe we could set up some guardrails to manage the power imbalance.”
He swirls the last of his cocktail in the bottom of his hurricane glass, staring at it.
“You know better than that, Mark. The optics are terrible.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know for sure, I’d have to review it closer,” he rubs his temples as if this conversation is causing him distress. “Regardless of what you want to do with this girl, you have to disclose it. Considering there’s already chatter about it online, my advice is to do it as early as possible.”
“The next board meeting is in a month and a half.” It feels both an eternity away and too soon. I’ve not even asked Rey what she wants, and here I am discussing disclosing our relationship.
“You should move it up. Unless you might change your mind? End it now?”
I try my best not to glare at him, at the hopeful tone in his voice. It’s not for anyone I’d come here and raise this. Rey feels … worth it.
When I don’t say anything, he continues, “I don’t think you’d be able to gather everyone any sooner than that, but try.”
I nod. “I’ve told you, at least.”
“Now, let’s finish this formal chit-chat, Mark, and have some more cocktails, shall we?” He gestures to the server for the same round again.
His nonchalance about this confuses me. Am I overthinking this whole thing or does he just not want to address it?
“Can I ask you, as your mentor and old friend, not as the Chair of the Board,” Graham starts, and I know he’ll ask me whatever the bloody hell he wants regardless of what I say. “She’s an intern at twenty-nine. Why? What’s her plan in life?”
“She’s an artist by education, but it didn’t work out,” I answer.
“Her plans are still in the making, but she’s very talented.
Doing a great job as a concept artist so far.
” Pride sparks in my chest as I say the words.
Seeing her draw and go through her fantasy world was fascinating.
And she’s just getting started on this journey.
Graham raises his eyebrows. “I’d expect you to consider your company’s future first in your decision-making. She wouldn’t be able to stay at Infinio, of course.”
“Right, the optics.” This doesn’t sit well with me. What if she’d want to stay? I can’t choose for her.
“And this atmosphere modelling, I wonder if I’ve seen them. A touch risqué, is it right? I went to a James Bond themed gala, and there were women painted gold, like the Goldfinger girl from the movie.”
“Could be a similar thing.” I’m not sure I like where this is going.
“Ugh, I’d hate to see my daughter parade around like that. Everything on display. Old men like me ogling her. What does her family think of this … job?”
Sipping my whiskey, I buy myself some time before I say anything. The fact that he’s ogling the women says more about him than them, but I know Rey hasn’t told her family about her extra job. She thinks they’ll judge her. Just like Graham is doing right now.
Before I can answer, he continues, “Will she stay an atmosphere model while with you? Will you bring her when you’re invited as a panellist at the World Technology Forum eventually?”
“That’s a hypothetical, Graham, why go there?”
“I’m just curious. My wife is an economist and enjoys the conversation. She’s part of my life. We’re even business partners; I told you about that bee charity she’s running.”
The words are stuck in my throat. Yes? No?
Does it matter? There’s a niggle of uncertainty in my gut now and I recall the thoughts I had when Aiden first told me she worked at The Orion that night.
But even the idea of being with someone like Jody, or just anyone that’s not Rey, feels ridiculous now that I know her. She exceeds anything I imagined.
My eyes meet Graham’s as he waits for my response. I know I shouldn’t care what he thinks, what anyone thinks, but how do I know for sure she’d be happy with me?
She won’t have to keep doing atmosphere modelling, though. If she doesn’t want to. She can dress up in other ways, and she has a different creative outlet now. Her concept artist role … which I’m also going to take away from her.
Shit.
Graham clears his throat, filling the awkward silence that stretched out with my lack of response. He sits up as the server arrives with another round of drinks and dim-sum.
“I’ll hear from you when you’re ready, Mark, but be smart about it. You can’t hide it forever.”
I nod. No words will come out now that this icy grip has tightened around my lungs. I thought I was the only one risking big in this relationship, but Rey would have to leave her role and join me in the limelight. How do I ask that of her? Does she even want to live like that?