Page 66 of Gross Misconduct

“It’s part of my job, and I’m happy to do it. If I can be honest, having you here has been a breath of fresh air. You’re the best boss we’ve had, and we know you care about us. I also have a sneaking suspicion you were behind our year-end bonuses. That came in handy. My boyfriend and I have been looking for a decent place to live now, and we think we can afford to get married.Thank you.”

I had no idea how old Whitney was, but I guessed she was around my age. To think that bonus had changed her life made my lip quiver for a moment. I blamed the stress.

“You deserve it, Whitney. You do a tremendous job.”

“Thank you. I guess we should start on that statement?”

Whitney and I delegated work first. I hated piling on Zane, but I knew he could do it. We even gave Oliver some added responsibilities that we knew were harmless and not things he could gossip about. We assigned tasks to our shared marketing team members, mostly the mundane items that wouldn’t arouse any suspicion with Mark. Once that was done, we started on the statement. We spent all morning working on it and both hating it. I suggested we get takeout, and I learned that Whitney loved Indian food as much as I did, and she knew of a great place nearby that delivered.

I was finishing up my samosa when we somehow got on the subject of Mark.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but Mark is an asshole.”

I laughed because I’d never heard her swear. “Oh, I’m getting that idea.”

“He was blackmailing John somehow. That’s why John would always capitulate to him. I guess he finally got fed up and quit. That was the best day of our lives. I love that you don’t take shit from Mark. And I know it sounds bad because I don’t think John was terrible, he just didn’t do what was right.”

I must have looked like I’d seen a ghost because she asked me if I was okay.

“Mark is trying to blackmail me.”

It felt good getting it out, and Whitney sat up straight, anger etched on her face.

“I hate him so much! What is he trying to do to you?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I bet some kind of blackmail is in my future. He thinks I’m having some kind of relationship with Clay.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What a creep. I guess his plan is to spread that around. It doesn’t even make any sense. You’re engaged to Jeremy Vaughn.”

I bit my lip. “About that, while Jeremy and I are sort of dating, we aren’t engaged. Not really, anyway. It’s for show.”

“Oh,” Whitney said. “But you got a dog. And you seem pretty serious. You definitely had me fooled.”

“We have a dog, but we aren’t serious.” It hurt saying it, but it was true, wasn’t it?

“Wait, does Mark know that too?”

“He’s speculating because he thinks I’m Clay’s mistress and Clay put me up to dating Jeremy. It’s all a mess.”

“I get the impression Clay likes you and not in the way Mark thinks. Have you thought about going to him about Mark?”

“I’ve thought about that, but Clay wouldn’t like the idea of Mark sharing this rumor.” Then a thought occurred to me. “I could go talk to John. Maybe he’d file a complaint against Mark. And if I file a complaint, that’s two. I’d bet everything I own that there are people in the marketing department who would come forward too.”

A grin spread across Whitney’s face. “I think you’re on to something. I know a few people over there, and I could ask around discreetly.”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all. I’d love to bring Mark down.”

So would I.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jill

Ikept myself busy because I didn’t want to deal with Jeremy or my feelings for him. I didn’t tell Tangi what had happened because I had enough to deal with. For one thing, it took two days until Whitney and I were happy with the statement Jeremy was going to make. We then sent it off to Clay and Taylor to approve. Once that was done, Whitney and I changed directions and focused on Mark. She asked her contacts in marketing about Mark while I set up a meeting with John. He was reluctant at first, but agreed to meet me that weekend.

Saturday morning, I traveled across town in an Uber since I still refused to get a car. John picked a coffee shop near his house, and I couldn’t blame him for that. I recognized him from an old picture I’d seen at work, and took a seat at his table. He was hunched over in his chair, and while I guessed he was maybe in his late forties, he looked much older, with deep lines around his mouth and salt-and-pepper hair. His hands were wrapped around his coffee as he stared out the large picturewindow.

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