Conflict of Interest

chapter 17


Kenzie pushed her laptop out of the way, resting her arms on her desk and her chin on her arms. She didn’t know why she was trying to work. She hadn’t gotten any done for the last two days.

Her bedroom wall stared back at her, the off-white texture not giving her any answers. Every time she tried to do something, anything, even basic things like sleeping, thoughts of Scott haunted her. His arm wrapped around her while she drifted off. Waking up with his chest pressed against her back. His finger on her lips before he faded back into the crowds at the masquerade.

The wounded pain in his eyes. How very much she just needed to walk away but couldn’t.

Something tickled her thoughts, but she couldn’t place it. It nudged and nagged until she grabbed it. A way out, maybe?

Things were going well, right? No public incidents, Cartee had said himself at the charity auction that things were better. So that meant she was probably almost done. She could transfer the contract to someone new, say it was in maintenance mode. Or cancel it altogether. If the issue was resolved, there was no reason for her to stay on, right? He’d proved he could clean up when the situation called for it. He knew how to behave. He was absolutely charming when he wanted to be.

He was everything perfect. And if she could just get out of that damn contract, maybe they had a chance together. If he was even still interested in her.

It was the most soothing thought she’d had since they parted ways after the auction. She smiled and turned her head, resting her cheek on her arms and letting the possibilities flit through her thoughts. They would be incredible together at formal parties. He had looked amazing in that tux. The thought tugged something unpleasant, but she pushed away the nagging. More clothes shopping. That had been fun.

The nagging grew, but she couldn’t tell what it was attached to.

Her computer chimed, and she forced the fantasy away.

A message from Zach.

We need to talk. I’d expect this from Scott, but not you.

Nausea slipped through her, and her temple throbbed. What the hell? She was reaching for her phone when her email chimed again. This time it was a message from Greta.

I need you in my office this afternoon. Tell me when you’re available, I’ll make time.

A link to a gaming forum followed the message. She clicked through, curiosity mingling with unfocused dread as the page loaded. Her eyes grew wide at what she saw, and her stomach lurched. Oh shit. What had they done?

The forum thread was titled: Why I rly wnt 2 b a game designer.

And it was full of photos from the charity dinner. The amazing costumes, the fantastic fun. The black-skinned drow she’d dressed as tucked in a dark hallway, Scott’s finger on her lip, the two of them looking very much just seconds from kissing. Then another shot of their lips pressed together, his hand on her lower back, her palms resting on his chest.

Enough evidence that she’d been intimate with a client to jeopardize her job. A mile-long string of profanities raced through her thoughts. How had that gotten on camera? Damn it, why had she let herself fall into this?

Panic pounded through her, overriding reason as she dove into reactionary mode. She had to fix this. She couldn’t let it impact her job.

She tried to call Zach, but went straight to voice mail. She hung up before the beep, not sure what to say. She replied to Greta, saying she’d be there in half an hour.

She forwarded the message with links to Scott and included her own message.

Never again.

She scurried to dress and pull her hair back so she could get into the office. Her email chimed again with a reply from Scott.

Fine with me.

She snarled at her laptop and slammed it shut. Fury and hurt screamed through her veins. The finality in those three words. Her stomach rolled in on itself as she walked out the door. He didn’t get to have the last word in this. She slipped in her earpiece and dialed his number as she headed to her car. Her heels scuffed against the concrete. She didn’t care.

“What?” His gruff voice greeted her.

“That’s my question.” She slid into her car, letting every bit of her frustration pour into her voice. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Really?” Anger and disbelief poured through the receiver. “You called to bitch me out, instead of, oh, I don’t know, admitting this was a shared moment? Or if I really mean that little to you, doing damage control?”

“Damage control.” She spit the phrase out in disgust. She pulled onto the road, maneuvering through traffic. “I don’t have an emergency contingency plan for you being a careless f*ckup. Just because you never wanted to do this publicity thing doesn’t give you the right to waste my time and your company’s money. You may have gotten me fired. Do you even care?”

“Do I even care?” His laugh was short and harsh. “What a funny thing for you to ask. So this is still all about business? About your career?” His snide tone assaulted her ears.

There was something hidden in the question, there always was with him, but she couldn’t figure out what. “And yours.”

“You’re lying. And you’re so far removed from the professional you’re pretending to be right now, it’s not even funny.”

She gritted her teeth at the accusation, hissing inwardly at the part of her that asked if he had a point. “How dare you? You arrogant, presumptuous a*shole.”

“Right, of course. This is all on me.” His tone slid into that mocking calm that meant he was backing down because he thought she was being stubborn, not because he knew she was right. “Zach wants to talk to you. And me. I assume that means we won’t have to work together anymore. That should come as a relief to you.”

“Damn straight.”

“I’d say it was nice working with you, Miss Carter.” Fake charm dripped from his voice. “But I’d be lying. Goodbye.”

The line clicked dead before she could respond, but fortunately also before her sob slipped out. She gripped the steering wheel until her fingers ached. She maneuvered to the side of the road and turned on her emergency lights, putting the car in park. The leather was hot against her forehead as she leaned into it. She breathed deep, struggling to calm down. His parting words echoed in her head, threatening to evict her breakfast, and unshed tears stung her eyes. What had just happened?

*

Anger, hurt, betrayal. Scott didn’t know which emotion he wanted to focus on. Whichever made him the most miserable and distracted him from the distinct ache in his chest. The conversation echoed in his head, mocking him, throbbing against his skull. He slammed his fist into his couch, letting the padding absorb the impact, and disappointed it hadn’t hurt more. At least then he’d have a focus for his … everything.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He didn’t know when he’d started falling for her, but it was agonizingly obvious it didn’t work both ways. It was time to stop pretending otherwise. He grabbed his phone.

“The board is not happy with you,” Zach greeted him before the first ring finished.

F*ck the board. He rolled his eyes. “You mean Cartee isn’t happy with me. I have a solution, I want her gone.”

“That will work splendidly with the people wondering if you hired her because you were sleeping with her.”

Scott snarled, anger and frustration spilling from him. “I wanted to send her packing the first day she showed up in the office. You hired her.”

Zach sighed. “Not that it matters, but you’re right. Still, firing her doesn’t fix anything.”

“Neither does keeping her on. Neither did hiring her.” Scott hated it when they hit a wall. He could plow through almost anyone’s bullshit, but talking over Zach took a talent he didn’t know if he had the patience for right now. “I don’t even care. Tell them it was my fault, that you’re picking the next one, whatever.”

“Cartee isn’t the only one who’s upset.”

Those words sent a chill through Scott. He had to force himself to ask for details. “Oh?”

“All you had to do was play along. Pretend you’d taken this edict seriously.” Zach’s tone was weary. “It was so simple. And now instead, you’ve spit in the board’s face—shown them you think you’re above their requests, that you’re so arrogant that you can f*ck around instead of complying with a simple request—and they’re considering Cartee’s call for a vote to fire you.”

Scott flopped back against the couch, head hitting the cushion hard and stars dancing in front of his eyes, blurring his view of the ceiling. “Shit.”

“Meet me somewhere.” Zach’s sigh filled the line, and in the background the click of a lighter bled through. “We need to talk about this face to face.”

Was it actually that serious? No. Scott was so done playing nice. Bowing to people. Surrendering everything he believed in just for someone to try and steal his company at the end of the day. “I have work to do.”

“Scott.”

“Zach.” He spit his best friend’s name back, tired of the conversation. “Fire her. Bring someone else on if it floats your boat. I have contracts to read.”

He disconnected before he could get any argument. He was done with Kenzie. She didn’t want him around and he was fine with that. Or maybe he would be if the gaping hole in his chest ever mended.

But in the meantime, he knew there were fail-safe’s built into every board member’s agreement to keep things like this from happening. He might not be able to save his personal life, but he could sure as hell try and find a way to evict Cartee from his professional one.

He pushed aside the gnawing ache in his chest pleading with him to call her, to make it right. She didn’t want him in her bed or anywhere in her life. He didn’t care. Not at all. Not one single little bit.

He draped his arm over his forehead, blocking out the world. F*ck.

He pushed himself up, staring at his laptop, the forum images taunting him of the shared moment—probably the last time he’d get to kiss that amazing woman. The realization devoured him.

Something caught his eye, and he took a closer look. The photo had crappy resolution, like it had been taken from a distance. A phone probably, which didn’t surprise him. But that wasn’t what mattered. It was the user name on the post.

A screen name he’d seen dozens of times during beta tests. One of the perks of being a board member was Cartee’s kid always got a first look at what they were putting out.

Hank’s son had posted the photos. Scott snarled and punched the couch again. That son of a bitch had set him up.

Too bad he didn’t know what to do with the information. He sank back into the cushions again, fury, hurt, and resignation flooding him and making his limbs heavy.

His phone buzzed at his side. He didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Still, he grabbed it, irritation swelling inside when he saw who it was. It would probably serve him to ignore the call, but this was one person he didn’t mind taking his frustration out on.

His tone was flat when he answered. “It’s not my birthday or Christmas, what’s the occasion?”

A smooth, confident voice replied, “I just wanted to talk to my son. Is that a crime?”

“I don’t know, Dad. Is it?” On second thought, this had been a bad idea. His father never called him out of the blue. Why today? Of all the days in the entirety of his adult life, why now?

“It’s nice to hear from you too.” There was no sarcasm in the older man’s voice. It was implied in the flat response. “But since you’re insisting there must be something wrong, I heard you were having some business problems.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed, a sick feeling swimming through him. Something wasn’t right. The entire day wasn’t right, but this was just completely out there. “Where did you hear that?”

“Brokers, traders. Whispers are starting to run through Wall Street.”

Scott clenched his jaw. He was being lied to. “We’re not publicly traded. Wall Street doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us.”

A loud sigh echoed through the receiver. “All right. I had lunch with an old friend, Hank Cartee. Apparently you two do business together?”

Scott choked back his disbelief. “What?”

“He mentioned things aren’t going your way right now.”

Scott stared at the forum name in front of him, too many thoughts swirling in his head to make sense of them.

“I’m not surprised you’re in trouble.” His father’s voice was distant, but as condescending as ever. “You’ve gotten in over your head this time. It would be in your best interest to have someone else step in and take the reins.”

A growl slipped out, and Scott didn’t try and hide it. Rage screamed through him. “Thanks. I’m fine.” He disconnected and threw his phone aside. He grabbed his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard as he dug deeper into Hank’s past than he ever had before. He followed thread after thread of where his money came from, who he knew, and who he associated with.

His phone buzzed again, and he shut it off without looking. This was going to take a while, and he didn’t need any more interruptions.

* * * *

Kenzie sat in the chair outside Greta’s office, toes tapping inside her shoes, fingers drumming on her knees. A gaping ache throbbed in her chest, and she hadn’t been able to make it go away, regardless of how hard she tried to push Scott’s words from her mind.

It didn’t matter. She still had a job to do, and that included damage control. As much for herself as anyone. She’d spin the pictures as harmless—part of being in character, of fitting in at the charity auction. She could get the word out right, and people would know she was professional enough she hadn’t crossed that line.

Her chest ached in response to the thought, and she took a deep breath.

“Come on in.” Greta stood in the doorway, nodding into the office.

Kenzie pasted her most professional smile in place and took a seat across from the other woman’s desk. Her gut sank further at the sound of a latching door behind her. It needed to be a private meeting, she knew that, but it still made her nervous.

“I’ve got an entire plan to correct this.” The words tumbled past Kenzie’s lips the moment Greta was seated. “It’s based largely on the emergency contingency we outlined. I’ll get counter posts out immediately, explanations, I can have a formal proposal in front of you in sixty minutes, and—”

Greta held up a hand, cutting her off. “I have someone else working on that already based on the plans you’ve laid out in the past. We have more important things to discuss.”

“Someone else is working my contract?” Kenzie frowned. It was what she’d wanted just a couple of hours ago, but she’d wanted it on her terms. This wasn’t right.

Greta wouldn’t meet her gaze, attention focused on her computer instead. “The client requested you be removed. Not that we could have let you stay on given the situation. We’ve also pulled you out of the rotation for any new jobs.”

Rinslet had already fired her? Kenzie’s stomach threatened to revolt. And she was being suspended. That wasn’t fair. She hadn’t even been given a chance to make it right. “Can I ask why?”

Greta glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “Really? This isn’t about the client’s image, it’s about ours. We don’t cross that line. I thought you of all people understood that. You were even warned.”

“I didn’t—” The denial froze in her throat; she couldn’t make herself say it. She couldn’t force out the insistence that it wasn’t what it looked like. “I can fix it. Just give me a chance.” She heard and hated the pleading in her own voice, but she couldn’t let this get away from her.

Greta locked her gaze on her. “I need to know, is it what it looks like?”

Of course it was. Hell, it was so much more. But could she throw away her entire career for that? On the other hand, could she deny how she actually felt? What if Scott didn’t feel the same way? She just knew she couldn’t deny it. Even thinking about doing that made her ill.

Greta sighed. “You’re being audited. All of your accounts, all of your interactions. You won’t be given any new jobs until a determination is made. I know this isn’t like you, so I don’t know what happened. I’m hoping your record will speak for itself and give me some leeway, but it may not be my decision in the end. You’re a well-known face for this company, and he’s a well-known face in his industry, and with those photos out there, the general public knows one of our people crossed a very distinct line.”

Kenzie stared at her clenched hands resting in her lap, knuckles white. She felt like a child being scolded. Her voice was quiet. “I understand.”