One Bossy Offer (100)

“Because you liked my dad?”

He purses his lips. “Because there’s zero evidence in either personnel file to support their allegations. I’ve contacted Judith in HR. She’s running reports now to see if there were any anonymous complaints during the time they worked here. Your father was responsible for that anonymous tip box on the main floor before everything went digital.”

I didn’t even think about anonymous complaints, but he’s right.

Dad rolled out the incognito complaint system in the mid-nineties after a friend’s daughter drove to our house one night and asked how to advise a friend who was being sexually harassed by her manager. Then she admitted the manager worked for him, and she was the friend.

Dad was her godfather, though, and he was happy to step in. Most of the women who worked for Cromwell-Narada didn’t have that kind of backing.

“Let’s see what HR finds before we decide what to do.”

“The other thing is you’ve been CEO for years, and they haven’t worked here in ages. Why now? Right in the middle of all this trouble with Pacific-Resolute? They could have filed a complaint, launched a lawsuit, outed it on Facebook or Twitter or anywhere else.” Bradley scratches his beard, trying to make sense of it.

“That also crossed my mind. Being CEO is all about making the best decisions when there’s no clear ‘right’ decision. This might be the first time I’ve had no clue what to do with a company issue. These ladies did their jobs well and they left without issue. One received a recommendation from her manager. No sign anyone here ever had an axe to grind with them. Still, I don’t want them discredited publicly. I’m not destroying their lives if there’s even a hint it could be true.”

“But?” He looks at me expectantly.

“I don’t believe it is. I don’t want to believe it. And if it isn’t, we need to prove that, too.”

“Well, you’re right that we can’t just sweep it under the rug and hope for the best. From a PR standpoint, and as your father’s friend, I’d personally like to see the story quashed—”

“Which I won’t do, Bradley. Not until we know what the hell happened. There’s also a legal blind spot. What if they go after my father?”

“Oh, no.” Bradley’s eyes widen. “No judge would ever waste much time with anyone going after Royal. He’d be deemed unfit for a trial rather fast.”

“Not fast enough to avoid being dragged in front of doctors and psychologists who aren’t there to help him, just to analyze his state of mind,” I grind out. “In the meantime, he could be pushed off to die in a mental hospital.”

Bradley looks down at his hands.

He knows I’m right.

“I trust it won’t come to that, sir.”

“Look, can we get a meeting with Legal set up ASAP? I want all options on deck. I’m not gagging the journalist, but if there’s a way to delay it without dragging anyone into court, I want to know that too.”

“I’ll set up a meeting now. In the meantime, I’ll put out a statement the instant any of this starts showing up on Twitter feeds. We believe in a victim’s right to come forward, and we’re taking this matter seriously. We’ll put out an updated statement when we have a better understanding of the situation.”

“Perfect,” I say, even though it’s anything but.

“Miles?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t mean to overstep, but...” He doesn’t finish the sentence.

“But?”

“There are other rumors around the office. About you and Miss Landers.”

“From who?” I bite off.

“Not sure, sir, but it’s been going up the chain. I don’t think either of you are exactly secretive,” he says.

“Meaning what, exactly? I’ve never mentioned her to anyone.” No one who isn’t named Benson, anyway.

“Maybe so, but these matters take on a life of their own. With your father’s accusations, you certainly don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. Would you consider bringing on another consultant or—”

He trails off.

Or ending things, he means.

“She decides where she wants to work, Bradley. Not me. Right now, she’s mulling more consulting for us on the side.”

“Then for the sake of both you and this company, I hope you figure out where she’s needed most,” he says with a nod.

“I have a lot of work to do. Let me know when Legal responds.” I leave his office with hornets under my skin.

I head for my office and check my cell.

Jenn hasn’t called or texted since I left in a huff, and I don’t blame her.

Annoyed with myself, I hit Benson’s contact.

“How is she?”

“Hard to say. She left shortly after you did.”

“What? I asked her to stay there.”

“She said you were clear about her having a life, so she decided she’d better live it. Lord knows there’s plenty to do at the inn,” he tells me, but he’s holding something back.

“Benson, spit it out,” I growl.

“And it seems you still haven’t told her everything about Miss Niehaus.”

“Is she mad at me?”