Chapter 15
NO RONALD? Henry asks when he realizes Val is closing the conference room door. He rubs a hand over his head, that’s bald as a cue ball. I haven't seen him since the party. I’m quite sure I had more hair than Chewbacca the last time that man called in sick.
Matthew lets out a quiet giggle, clearly imagining what Henry must have looked like with a full head of hair.
It must have been before I even learned how to walk, Henry adds, tossing his head back as a laugh rises up from his throat.
Man, you probably weren't even conceived the last time it happened, Matthew chuckles, as the two men bounce little quips back and forth.
Meanwhile, Val lets his gaze circle the room. His eyes linger on me for a moment, before somewhat casually placing some documents on the table and slowly beginning to put them in order.
Ronald will no longer be a member of this board, he finally says, never taking his eyes off the documents.
The room goes dead silent as everyone stares at our CEO.
As far as I can tell from their faces after that announcement, the reactions in the room are mixed.
For every person who looks like they just got socks for Christmas, there’s someone else who seems far from shocked.
Matthew nods knowingly, in contrast to Henry, whose eyes are the size of hubcaps.
What . . . What do you mean? he asks, his voice hoarse.
I mean, says Val with a deep sigh, that he did a number of unacceptable things and now he’s dealing with the consequences of his actions. To protect the privacy of everyone involved, I won’t be going into any more detail.
A deep furrow appears on Henry’s brow. But . . . I’ve known him since university . . . I can’t imagine he would—
Val cuts him off with a sharp look and Henry settles back into his chair.
As I was saying, Val continues, Ronald won’t be returning. If you’re looking for more details, I suggest you take it up with him.
Henry’s jaw is tight as he stares straight ahead.
When Val finally takes a seat, he looks around the table again, his eyes pausing on each one of the board members.
I understand this might come as a shock, he says, but please believe me when I say I had no other choice in the matter.
He flips open the report that’s on the table in front of him.
With that said, let’s move on to the business at hand.
Henry isn’t nearly as talkative as he has been at previous meetings. As everyone files out of the room, he shows no signs of moving. It’s not until everyone has disappeared that he startles from his thoughts and realizes the meeting is over.
Val has a meeting scheduled elsewhere, so I join Matthew on a walk to the coffee machine.
This is all because of what happened at the Valentine’s party, isn’t it?
Matthew asks, handing me a latte. I spotted Robin rushing out of the hallway in tears and then you came out a little while later.
You looked like all the blood had drained from your face.
And then Ronald stumbled out, too, all doubled over.
He tosses the contents of a sugar packet into his cappuccino and stirs his drink.
So when Val came to me that night to find out more about my suspicions .
. . He takes a sip, then licks the foam moustache from his lip.
Let’s just say it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out.
I nod, heaving a deep sigh.
It also explains why Val needed contact information for all of Ronald’s previous assistants, he says, continuing his train of thought.
Do you think he’s planning a cover-up? A member of the Board of Directors going around assaulting employees .
. . That’s about the worst kind of publicity you could imagine.
Matthew looks at me with big, brown eyes full of questions as he takes another sip of his cappuccino.
I shoot him an incredulous look. Not at all. Val isn’t like that. He’s the one who convinced Robin to report the assault and I gave my witness statement this morning, too. Believe me, he wants nothing more than for Ronald to face punishment for this.
His eyes go wide for a moment, but then his gaze softens. I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Val might be short-fused at times, but at his core, he’s one of the best people I know.
I can’t help but smile at his words. He definitely is, I reply proudly.
Matthew’s eyes dart across my face before he breaks into a knowing expression. I suppose you know that more than most, isn't that right?
Straight-faced, I stir another sugar packet into my coffee. The Brits might be known for their tea, but there’s so much work to be done when it comes to their coffee.
What do you mean? I finally ask.
Matthew gives his eyebrows a suggestive wiggle.
I’m not an idiot, Hannah . . . Val’s absurd reason for sending me back inside .
. . You showing up later looking like you’d just single-handedly slayed a dragon .
. . I have to admit, I’m surprised. Val has always refused to date employees.
He’s had to disappoint so many women in our department.
He chuckles, rummaging through the drawer under the coffee maker.
Biscuit? he asks, handing me a little foil-wrapped treat.
Slightly stunned, I accept the cookie.
If I’d known there was something going on between you two, I would have backed off, of course.
It’s a bold move, getting involved with your boss.
You know what people can be like at work.
When Val was seeing a waitress from one of the restaurants nearby, the whole building was abuzz with gossip.
He gives his head a pitying shake. Apparently that waitress was the second-floor receptionist’s niece.
She tends to spend her lunch break chatting incessantly with Henry’s assistant, and Henry couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.
He crunches his cookie between his teeth before continuing.
So yeah, hats off to you for rising above that petty goss— He stops abruptly and gazes over my shoulder with wide eyes.
Ronald, he says, blatant disgust in his voice.
Shocked, I spin around and now I’m staring directly into Ronald’s evil little beady eyes.
He returns my revolted stare. He looks bad.
Not that he was a prime example of aging like fine wine prior to Friday’s events, but now he’s carrying puffy dark circles under his eyes.
His unwashed shirt is covered in stains and instead of his usual leather dress shoes, he’s wearing sneakers.
His black hair that used to be neatly combed into place is gone now—instead, his bald scalp is surrounded by a horseshoe of white and dark hair.
Any comparison to Harry Potter went out the door along with his absent toupee.
Why the hell are you here? Matthew growls, stepping between me and Ronald defensively. Surely you were banned from the building.
Ronald shifts his gaze to my face, barely peeking out over Matthew’s shoulder, then narrows his eyes. I step out from behind Matthew, straighten my back, and give him a calculating stare.
Just picking up a few things, he replies, never taking his eyes off of me. His fleshy lips move up and down as he speaks. When he sweeps a few wispy hairs over his bald head, I spot the exact moment he realizes he’s not wearing his toupee. He drops his arm to his side.
Just look at you, he scoffs, gesturing at me. So arrogant . . . You think you’re so much better than me . . . As if you’d never use that tight little body of yours to get ahead . . . He takes a step closer.
Matthew puts a hand on my shoulder in what should be a comforting gesture. It doesn’t work. I’m trying to put on a brave face but my heart is pounding wildly against my ribcage. Ronald smells like cigarettes and liquor.
I can see now why you were less than willing with me, he continues. His slug-like tongue slithers out of his mouth to wet his lips, turning my stomach.
Ronald . . . Matthew says in a threatening tone.
But Ronald rambles on, completely ignoring the warning.
If you're already shagging your way up the corporate ladder with the CEO, why would you ever be interested in the advances of a board member?
However well-intentioned he might be. Do you honestly think no one spotted you two on Saturday night?
You had the entirety of London listening in on your slutty little squeaks and moans rising up from every other alleyway in Covent Garden.
I feel the contents of my stomach rise up in my throat. The thought that Ronald witnessed my intimate moments with Val is utterly repulsive.
He takes another step closer as Matthew tenses all his muscles right next to me.
Don’t get me wrong . . . Ronald says. I completely understand .
. . Little trollops like you have no choice but to trade their bodies to get ahead.
Your lot really is the scum of the business world.
Constantly stealing opportunities from intelligent young men who just—
Matthew plants his fist into the man’s face with such force that Ronald hits the floor before he can finish his sentence. I clasp a hand to my mouth as his pudgy body lands with a dull thud.
How dare you speak to her like that, Matthew shouts in a rage.
He flaps his punching hand through the air—I imagine he mainly uses it to flip book pages, not to knock over utterly pathetic middle-aged men.
He stares in disgust at the man lying on the ground in front of him.
Ronald groans as he reaches for his face.
Just look at you, Matthew continues. Your own narcissistic delusions lost you your job.
No one else is responsible for the misery you’re experiencing right now. This was all your own doing.
Ronald lets out a garbled, pitiful little sound.
Despite being generally quick-witted in awkward situations, right now, I’m at a loss for words.
I hear the blood rushing in my ears as I stare down at Ronald, and the gears in my brain start to grind.
Why is this affecting me so strongly? Why should I care at all what this gross, evil little man has to say about me?
But then the cold, hard truth hits me like a sledgehammer.
In all his profanity-riddled ramblings, he somehow managed to describe my greatest fear.
What would everyone think if I decided to make a go of this thing with Val?
Even Matthew made it clear that workplace gossip is unavoidable—and what could be a juicier story than the CEO doing his assistant?
People would have a field day debating what we might be up to every time we close his office door, which we frequently do.
Every quick check-in would instantly become a quickie in people’s minds.
Every business trip would be seen as a sexcapade.
Matthew grabs my wrist and gently guides me to the exit before notifying building security that Ronald is no longer welcome here.
Every promotion, every future raise would immediately be linked to me sleeping with Val. I’m only 29, my career is just getting started. Is this really the reputation I want to carry around for the rest of my career? The assistant who you-know-whatted her way up the ranks?
The cold wind blows snowflakes into my face as Matthew walks me back to my hotel.
He’s trying to reassure me that everything Ronald just said was meaningless.
That he’s just a miserable, sexist little man who’s hopefully about to swap his expensive tailored suits for synthetic orange ones.
He’s saying all the right things, but his words sound distant and they're refusing to land.
Despite the cold, my hands feel clammy and sweaty.
I wipe them on my pants, then shove them into my coat pockets as I try to rein in my emotions.
I’m not sure how I feel about Val. This past weekend was incredible and he’s constantly on my mind.
My heart leaps every time I see him and I find myself walking around with an involuntary smile from ear to ear.
Maybe it’ll stay casual. Val did tell me he’s never been in a relationship before.
I have to admit, this is the best sex I’ve ever had, but is it worth giving people an excuse to question my integrity and professionalism?
At the hotel reception, Matthew hands me a little piece of paper, a concerned look in his eyes. Here’s my number, he says with an encouraging nod. If you want to talk about it, or if you need anything at all . . . Just call me.
For the first time since Ronald’s arrival, I look directly up at Matthew. His kind eyes are full of worry. I accept the piece of paper and give him a weak, but sincere smile.
Thank you, Matthew.