20. Charlotte #2
“Mr. Lynch.” Sean’s voice went flat. “I’m aware of who you are. That doesn’t give you the right to barge into my office during an employee disciplinary meeting.”
“Disciplinary meeting.” Sutton moved to stand beside my chair. “Is that what we’re calling this? Because from the hallway it sounded a lot more like a public execution.”
“Sutton,” I said. “Don’t.”
He didn’t look at me. His eyes stayed locked on Sean.
“You want to talk about liability?” Sutton said.
“Your hotel let a gossip columnist photograph its staff in its own hallways. Your security system failed to catch someone with a camera lurking in a service corridor. This photograph was taken on your property, in a restricted area, without the consent of either person depicted. That’s the liability you should be worried about. ”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Lynch?”
“I’m educating you,” Sutton said. “That photo is a privacy violation and a security breach. If you fire Charlotte for being the victim instead of investigating how it happened, I will bury this place in lawyers. Try me.”
“Sutton, stop.” I reached for his arm. “You’re making this worse.”
“I’m defending you,” he said.
“I don’t need you to defend me.”
“You need someone to.” He finally looked at me, and the anger in his face softened into something that might have been fear. “You shouldn’t have to sit here and take this alone.”
“She’s not alone,” Sean said. “She’s in a meeting with her employer. A meeting you were not invited to and are not welcome at.”
“I don’t care what I’m welcome at.”
“That much is clear.” Sean leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms.
“The optics are manufactured,” Sutton said. “Posy Wetherell makes her living destroying people. Charlotte just happened to be useful this week.”
“And yet here we are,” Sean said. “With a photograph that doesn’t care about Posy Wetherell’s motivations.”
“A private moment taken out of context,” Sutton said.
“Private conversations don’t usually require that much physical contact, Mr. Lynch.”
“You don’t know anything about what that conversation required.”
“I know what the photograph shows.” Sean picked up his phone and held it up.
Sutton went still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She wrote that Charlotte was involved with a guest. Trading favors for access.” Sean set the phone down. “And here you are, storming into my office, throwing your weight around, threatening legal action if I don’t do what you want. You’re not disproving the story, Mr. Lynch. You’re confirming it.”
The silence that followed pressed down on the room like a physical weight.
I watched Sutton’s face as the words landed.
The realization spreading across his features. The slow horror of understanding that every threat he had made, every protective instinct he had followed, had only tightened the noose around my neck.
“That’s not what this is,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter what it is.” Sean’s voice was calm now, almost pleasant. “It matters what it looks like. Isn’t that what I told Charlotte five minutes ago? The optics are everything.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“And you did a beautiful job of it.” Sean gestured at the space between them.
“A wealthy guest bursts into my office to intimidate me into keeping his girlfriend employed. How do you think that story plays when it gets back to the board? How do you think it plays when Posy writes her follow-up tomorrow?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sutton said, but his voice had lost its edge.
“No? Then why are you here, Mr. Lynch? Why do you care what happens to a front desk employee at a hotel you’re staying at?”
Sutton didn’t answer. I watched his jaw work, watched him search for something to say that wouldn’t make it worse.
“That’s what I thought.” Sean turned to me. “Charlotte, I want you to clean out your locker and return your uniform by end of day. You’ll receive your final paycheck by mail.”
“You can’t do this,” Sutton said. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She didn’t have to.” Sean picked up a folder from his desk and opened it, already moving on. “The photograph did it for her. And your little performance just sealed it.”
“I’ll go to the board myself,” Sutton said. “I’ll explain what really happened. I’ll make them understand that this was a hit job.”
“Go ahead. Explain to them why you’re so invested in the employment status of a woman you claim isn’t your girlfriend.” Sean didn’t look up from his folder. “I’m sure that will clear everything right up.”
“Sutton.” My voice came out quiet. “Stop. Please.”
He turned to me, and the look on his face nearly broke me. The terrible understanding that he had done exactly what I asked him not to do.
“Charlotte, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make it worse. I just couldn’t stand there and let him tear you apart.”
“I know,” I said.
“Tell me how to fix this.”
“You can’t.” I stood up and smoothed my dress. The same dress I had worn to the auction. The same dress he had peeled off me last night. “That’s the whole point.”
“There has to be something,” he said. “Some way to undo this. I have resources, I have connections, I can talk to people who matter.”
“Get your lawyers,” Sean said without looking up. “File your complaints. Make your phone calls. She’s still done.”
I picked up my bag and walked toward the door. Sutton reached for my arm and I pulled away.
“Charlotte, wait.”
“I told you not to come,” I said. “I begged you to stay away. And you decided your judgment was more important than what I actually needed.”
“I was trying to help.”
“You were trying to feel useful.” I stopped at the door and turned to face him. “There’s a difference.”
“So what happens now?” His voice cracked. “What do we do?”
I looked at him for a long moment. The man I had married and divorced and never quite stopped loving. The man who had held me last night like I was something precious.
“I don’t know what you do,” I said. “But I need to figure out who I am when you’re not around to save me from things.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You showing up here wasn’t fair either.” I opened the door. “But here we are.”