Conflict of Interest

chapter 18


Kenzie lay on her side, staring at her clock and watching the minutes tick away. Seven a.m.

7:01.

7:02.

She should get out of bed. Dress, get ready for the day. But for what? She didn’t even know. She didn’t have any meetings. May never have another meeting again.

She rolled her eyes at a knock on her bedroom door. “Go away.”

Riley poked her head in the room. “I haven’t seen you for days. Are you avoiding me? Oh geez, Kenz, what’s wrong?”

The mattress shifted with the weight of a new body.

Kenzie sighed and rolled over, looking up at her sister sitting next to her, back against the headboard, studying her with concern.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Kenzie’s lie came out as a dry croak.

Riley raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Liar.”

Kenzie pulled her comforter over her head. It was stifling under the covers, but she didn’t want to face anyone. “Go away.”

Riley yanked the blankets back. “No.”

Kenzie glared at her, eyes narrow, trying to pour as much irritation into the expression as she could.

Riley stared back, not blinking.

Kenzie shook her head and rolled onto her side again, back to her sister. “I’m not talking about it.”

Silence. Kenzie almost looked, but she resisted the urge to see what her twin was up to.

“Then I’ll guess.” Riley said. “It couldn’t be because of the work thing because who would be upset about not having to work and still getting paid for it?”

Kenzie flopped back over, glaring at her sister. “I don’t get paid when I don’t work, and yes, the ‘work thing’ sucks.”

The corner of Riley’s mouth pulled up. “So you can say more than just ‘go away.’”

Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll tell you what’s wrong. The day you moved in, I approached some guy in a coffee shop that I’d seen almost every weekend but never dared talk to before. And then I continued the cycle of doing things I never do.” Her throat constricted as she spit out the words, the memories stinging her eyes.

“And my life has been out of control ever since.” Her voice cracked, and she bit back a sob. She hated him for that. Or herself. Or someone. For the way he’d made her feel, for the mistakes she’d made because of it, for not being able to forget it regardless of how badly it had screwed everything up.

Riley reached down and brushed a strand of hair off Kenzie’s forehead. Her voice was soft, sympathetic. “Has it really been that bad? I had no idea, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, no, I don’t know.” Kenzie forced herself to sit up, focusing on not crying.

“So you two aren’t a thing after all?” Riley plucked at a loose thread on the comforter. “Because he’s really hot.”

“No.” Kenzie hated the taste of the word. “We’re not.”

“Why not?”

Sometimes she hated how childlike her sister was. Irritation flooded her. “Because it’s not appropriate. Why do you even have to ask?”

“Don’t snap at me.” Riley’s playful expression vanished, replaced by pursed lips. “I’m tired of you acting like you’ve got a stick up your ass just because I have a different perspective on the world than you. You stash your entire salary in savings—an amazingly admirable thing to do—so you can retire young, but still insist on keeping it a secret, subsisting off Ramen and your expense account so everyone thinks you’re well-off.” She splayed out her fingers as she ticked off list points.

“And now you’re keeping your distance from a guy you didn’t take your eyes off the entire evening—who never took his eyes off you—at that party thing of his, because why? Because it’s not appropriate? Because he’s not as polished as you like your guys? He sure cleaned up well. Maybe you’re afraid you can’t get him to sustain that.”

Kenzie felt more ill as every thought she’d had about Scott spilled from her sister’s lips.

Riley looked at her, mouth twisted in disbelief. “Do you do anything because you want to and not because someone else told you it was appropriate?”

Kenzie pulled her blanket over her head, not wanting to see the accusation reflected at her. It was worse than looking in a mirror. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me,” Riley said.

“Just forget it.” It wasn’t worth the effort. “Get out.”

“Fine.” The mattress shifted again as Riley got up. “One more thing first?”

The change in her sister’s tone penetrated Kenzie’s haze of self-pity. She sat, curious gaze locked on Riley. “I’m listening.”

Riley stared back from the doorway, hesitation shining in her eyes. She took a deep breath. “No one knows this, so please don’t tell.”

Kenzie’s curiosity grew. “I promise.”

Riley fiddled with her fingers, running her thumb over each nail in order and then repeating the nervous gesture. “I left Archer, not the other way around.”

Kenzie’s eyes grew wide. She wasn’t sure why she was hearing the confession now, but even more she wondered, “Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”

Riley gave a short laugh. “He proposed.”

“Wait, what?”

Riley shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, watching the carpet. “He proposed, I freaked out and left. I didn’t tell anyone because you all already think I’m this flake who can’t even keep a boyfriend, and this only proves it.”

Kenzie opened her mouth to offer some kind of denial and reassurance.

“I didn’t know why I told him no at the time.” Riley cut her off. “He’s nice enough, he’s kind—all the adjectives a guy should have. But…” She blew a strand of blonde off her forehead.

“Then I saw you and Scott at that investor dinner. The way his eyes never quite left you, the respect in his voice when he talked to you, the fact that you’re exactly the same way with him. Archer and I never had that. We might have some day, but seriously, I don’t think any of my friends—married, attached, whatever—look at each other with the kind of adoration he directed at you. And you’d sacrifice that because of some self-declared, impossibly immovable definition of what is and isn’t appropriate?”

A sharp pang dug into Kenzie’s chest and tears pricked her eyelids. “I don’t have a choice.”

Riley shrugged and turned away. “I don’t see a gun to your head.” She left, closing the door behind her, the latch clicking shut and echoing like a shot in Kenzie’s head.

Another layer of guilt sank over Kenzie. She’d known Riley wouldn’t understand. She never did. It had to be this way. There weren’t any other options. Her stomach clenched with despair, and her eyes burned.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just lay around forever. She pushed herself out of bed, shuffled the few short feet to her desk, and dropped into the mesh chair. Riley’s words taunted her as she started her laptop.

Why was she even dwelling? That was what had gotten her in trouble in the first place—believing that life would be better if she learned how to let loose. A tiny part of her reminded her she probably wouldn’t have gotten to know Scott the way she had if it hadn’t been for that impulse.

She mentally scolded herself. Then she wouldn’t have fallen for him, wouldn’t have lost him, and wouldn’t be aching now.

She opened a web browser in autopilot. A blank search-engine screen stared back at her. What was she doing? She started typing in the search box, and the predictive results scrolled link after link to car dealerships.

She clicked down to Scott Evans, Jr. She lost track of time as she jumped from one site to the next. A newspaper article about him entering rehab at sixteen for alcoholism. Junior high yearbook photos from a very private, very expensive finishing school. High school photos of a quarterback who led his school’s team to their worst record in decades, obliterating the way the school had worshiped his father’s football career.

And blurb after blurb from gossip and society sections of local papers, older ones mentioning the well-behaved pre-teen sliding into quiet, sullen, and then the son who had disowned his own father.

She didn’t know where to focus her thoughts first. He knew it all—everything she’d been trying to teach him about how to dress, behave, socialize, draw positive media attention, he already knew it. She traced her fingers over a black-and-white photograph of Scott in high school. He looked so very miserable.

Then again, how happy could a person be having a lifestyle they didn’t enjoy shoved down their throat on a daily basis? She dropped her head into her arms. No wonder he’d been so resistant. He’d even tried to tell her, and she hadn’t listened.

It was true, her job had been to make him look good in front of the cameras, but had she gone too far trying to change how he appeared instead of doing the right thing and making them appreciate what he already was?

Damn it.

* * * *

Scott grabbed his phone the moment it rang, hope and nausea churning inside. “Grant, how are you?”

“Better than you, my boy.” The usual underlying chuckle was gone from Grant’s voice. “You really screwed things up. Not just for you, but for that young lady.”

The statement gnawed on another layer of his mood. He wanted to believe she had used him as much as he had enjoyed her, but she’d made it clear that most of their relationship was in his head.

Scott pushed the thoughts back before they could become the jumbled mess they had every time they’d surfaced over the last twenty-four hours. “I know. I need information.”

Grant would know what he was talking about. “I can’t give you specifics, I can only tell you the board is split down the middle. You’ve made a lot of influential men—people who expect everyone to take them seriously—believe you think their word is meaningless.”

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. He bit back the curse. If they voted to fire him, he’d lose the second most important thing in his life.

Wait. First. Right?

Right. Because Kenzie wasn’t in his life anymore. He sandbagged the flood of thoughts again. Not that he cared. Only intensely and painfully.

“I warned you about selling your soul.” Grant’s warm sympathy interrupted the rambling thoughts.

Scott snapped back to the conversation. “I know. But what was I going to do?”

“Buy it back.”

That was the fail-safe. The loophole. Scott knew that, but he was still concerned. “Buying out and firing Cartee isn’t going to convince the rest of the board I’m worthy of keeping my job.”

Grant sighed. “You’d have to convince them Hank was the only real risk.”

Scott’s eyes grew wide at the thought. He’d found the proof he needed that Cartee had planted the photos, but they were still real pictures. Hank had done so much more than Scott ever expected. Scott had yelled and argued with his father for hours after he’d uncovered Hank’s financial background, and he’d finally discovered the truth. Was it enough?

“What if I could show that Hank’s money wasn’t his? That he lied about his funding and intended to displace me from his first day on the board? Do I even have a chance of convincing them I’m sorry and turning their attention back on him?”

Through a series of shell companies and off-shore accounts, his father had funded Hank’s failing empire to force Scott out of his own company. Being disowned by his son had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d known he couldn’t buy in as himself, but he hadn’t had to. Hank had been quick to act as a face for Scott’s father since he’d never liked Scott or his business practices.

“Men like me let our money and egos drive us. You’ve already proven you’re worth the investment. If your apology is sincere and your proof is solid, you might have a chance.”

Scott exhaled, a whisper of relief tickling his senses. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“You haven’t let me down yet.” Grant’s smile was almost visible over the phone.

Scott’s mind was racing as he hung up. That was what he had to do; it all made perfect sense. Rae could make the numbers work to buy out Hank, and he would beg the board’s forgiveness if that’s what it took to win them back, especially if he could share the blame with Cartee. As long as it didn’t mean denying what had happened with Kenzie. Please don’t let them ask that of him. It was the one concession he wasn’t willing to make.

He slouched back against the couch, exhaustion rushing in to temper the exhilaration. So that was half his problem solved. What was he going to do about the other half?

He couldn’t ask Kenzie for forgiveness. Listening to her tear him down again was too painful a road for him to even consider. But he knew how to save his own job, at least he could try to do the same for her. He placed another call.

Two hours later he was sitting in a small office across from a woman who insisted he call her Greta. Papers were piled high on either side of her, and loose strands of red rebelled against her ponytail.

Reporting to her must drive Kenzie insane. The thought would have made him smile on any other day.

“You’re a lot more trouble than someone in your position should be.” There was no malice in Greta’s comment.

He let out a small laugh. “So I hear. Thank you for making time for me.”

“Of course. You understand Mackenzie is one of my best, and I don’t like the way this has turned out.”

His gut clenched at the words, adding to the already churning dread of what he was about to say. He was going to sign away the last traces of something amazing, but he couldn’t think of another way. “I don’t blame you. I’m not so fond of it myself.”

Her smile faltered. “I don’t do small talk very well. Can we cut to the chase?”

“Right.” He swallowed, mentally steeling himself. These ties needed to be severed completely, and this was the last missing piece. “Those pictures that got out. None of those were Miss Carter’s fault.”

He forced himself to keep talking. It destroyed him to admit it, but he knew it was true. “She was never anything but professional. She went above and beyond when it came to putting up with my crap. I was difficult, and I sabotaged her efforts for selfish reasons that had nothing to do with her or your organization.”

Which was exactly the case, right? He had to convince himself he believed it, or it would show. He was a terrible liar.

Greta studied him for a moment. “You know this has legal implications, right? You leave yourself open to a harassment lawsuit if Mackenzie says it’s appropriate. Breach of contract. Libel concerns.”

He did. “I’m willing to go through whatever arbitration is necessary.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It may be more serious than that.”

His smile turned hard. “Then your contract should have covered that. What did it say? All claims and disputes arising under or relating to this agreement are to be settled by binding arbitration.”

Not that he planned on dragging such a thing out, but he was willing to stick his ass on the line for Kenzie, not for a loosely worded, boiler-plate clause.

Greta’s expression didn’t give anything away. “Point taken. Thank you for stopping by.”

He paused halfway out of his seat, not wanting to ask but not able to help himself. “This gets her out of hot water, right?”

Greta’s mask slipped, a whisper of a genuine smile leaking in. “I can’t guarantee anything, and I can’t discuss that with you.”

Of course. He knew better. “Thank you for your time.”