I looked up at him, hating that I hadn’t been as quick as Ethan. Somehow, I managed to sound polite when I said, “Yes?”
“Look, I know I came down hard on you today, but I want you to have the right perspective going into the meeting on Thursday. You’re innovative, Molly. And light years ahead of your peers. It’s why you’ve done so well here. It’s also why I put you on this project. But what you need to understand is that not everyone speaks your techy language.” He got up from behind his desk and walked around to put a hand on my shoulder. “The most important piece of advice I’ve ever gotten at this job was to know the temperature of the room. You can have the greatest marketing plan in the world, but if you don’t know who you’re pitching to, the message will never make it to the audience.”
I breathed in deeply through my nose, hating that he made a good point. It was an intuitive idea to feel out Black Soul before I pitched a giant giveaway. It physically hurt me to admit, “You’re right. It’s smart to hold back for now.”
His hand moved over my bicep, brushing up and down in a slow caress that grabbed my attention. Abruptly, my priorities shifted from the Black Soul project to Henry’s inappropriate touching. Was this the right time to say something?
He stepped closer, smiling serenely at me. “I’m so glad you see it my way.” His hand squeezed my bicep but didn’t let go. “How are your other projects going? Specifically, I’m interested in the EFB Enterprises account. It’s not too big for you, is it? I’m happy to step in and help out where I can.”
“That one is going great.” My voice shook with nerves, so I pasted on a plastic smile to hide how uncomfortable I was. “I have a meeting with him later today.” Er, tonight… “He’s very open to my ideas.”
“And why wouldn’t he be?” Henry asked, but his words were facetious and patronizing.
He had single-handedly made me feel like a child playing pretend at the grown-up job where she didn’t belong. I took a step to the side, desperately trying to shake Henry’s hand off me.
It worked. But it worked too well.
To my utter horror, as Henry’s hand disengaged with my arm it passed over my boob, resting there for a second too long. His whole palm flattened against my breast before he pulled it away.
“Oh my god,” I gasped, feeling dirty, molested and small. So, so small.
“What?” Henry asked, totally unfazed.
I stared at his shoes, my voice shaking as I choked out a horrified whisper. “D-did you just grab my b-boob?”
His voice flattened, turning sharp as a knife. “Excuse me?”
I was only marginally more confident when I asked the question for a second time. “D-did you just grab my boob?”
“What? Are you serious? Of course not!”
His outrage soothed some of my worst fears. “It-it felt like you did.”
He laughed, but it was bitter and accusatory. “Do you mean just now?” His voice dropped low in a snarl, “I didn’t grab your boob, Molly. For god’s sake. You moved and my hand accidentally bumped into you. I didn’t realize it was your breast until you accused me of assaulting you.” He pumped his hands. “You need to settle down.”
My spine started to crack and crumble beneath the weight of his defensiveness. “Henry, your hand rested on my breast.”
“Miss Maverick, that was a complete and total accident. If you’d like to drag my name through unnecessary mud, you’re welcome to complain about me to HR. But good luck getting the charge to stick when it was an accident. Do you really think I’m in the habit of fondling my employees during the middle of the morning? On a Monday for fuck’s sake?”
The hysterical part of my brain wondered why it made any difference that it was Monday? Was he just not usually up for fondling on Mondays? Did he prefer to fondle closer to the weekend? Was there a specific day of the week that was best for fondling?
Regardless, he was adamant that he’d touched me on accident. And while it didn’t feel like an accident to me, in fact, it felt very, very on purpose, right now it was his word against mine. I wanted to call him out on his bullshit. I wanted to go straight to HR like he’d suggested and file a formal complaint. But there was no proof that he’d done it on purpose. I couldn’t even be sure myself. So what good would it do to complain about the son of the founder of the company I was working for?
Nobody would believe me.
And while I felt icky from the inside out, an accidental brush of my boob wasn’t the end of the world.
It wasn’t, I told myself again. And then once more with feeling.
I took another step back, debating. He was handsy. He’d made me feel uncomfortable on several occasions. But if I drew the line now, then maybe it would stop him from reaching out and grabbing my boob whenever he felt like it.
I could end his inappropriate behavior without escalating this into something that could really damage his standing in this company.
“Please don’t touch me again,” I told him, barely meeting his eyes. God, this was awkward. And awful. And I needed it to be over STAT.
“I told you it was an accident,” he huffed. “I’d appreciate it if you would be more careful in the future.”
And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your filthy hands to yourself.
I shook off the lingering scummy feelings and stepped farther away from him. “Then it’s settled. You won’t touch me again on accident or otherwise and I won’t unintentionally put my boob in your hand.”
“That’s all I ask.” He gave me a tight-lipped glare before he turned back to his desk, effectively dismissing me.
He didn’t have to tell me to leave; I was more than ready to escape. I all but ran back to my desk, needing to get away from Henry as quickly as possible. God, I felt like such an idiot! I hated that had happened. And I hated even more that I couldn’t decide how to feel about it.
Two parts mortified, two parts furious, all I wanted to do was burst into tears. And take a hot shower. A hot, scalding shower was definitely in order.
It wasn’t like I was this giant prude, but I had never been touched inappropriately before without my consent. Maybe it had been an accident, but instinct burned through me, whispering that it hadn’t been. But what was there to do about it?
I pushed my laptop out of the way and contemplated banging my head against the desk. See? This was the problem with confrontation. I’d been afraid to talk to Henry for weeks about his inappropriate touching and yet the second I was forced into it, I wanted to give up or puke or move to Tahiti. Real smooth, Molly. Real fucking smooth.
“Are you okay?” Emily asked when she returned from the break room with a fresh cup of coffee. “How did the meeting go?”
“Fine,” I told her quickly. “Terrible. I don’t know. Ask me later.”
“What happened?”
The words were there, on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell her. Henry grabbed my boob. But it sounded ridiculous in my head. Would she laugh about it and make a joke?