Page 59 of Between the Lines

Is she with a visitor?

I put my hands in my pockets and stare at the door. My employees could be telling her what they think about me, either on or off the record.

There are plenty of workers here who are from the “before” times. When the CEO was still named Hartman, but his first name was Alfred. Charlotte is asking them about that period.

Unease ripples through me. This is what I didn’t want.

I can control what I say to her, but damn if I can control anyone else. There’s a part of me that wants to interrupt.

But I don’t get the chance to decide, because the door opens, and out steps Cynthia. She’s a tall, Black woman with razor-sharp intellect and a penchant for pantsuits. She’s worked for the company for as long as I’ve been alive. She was a junior executive when I took over, but I’d quickly promoted her to the COO position.

When she sees me, she pauses. “Waiting for your turn?”

“Did you get a donut?”

“I had two.”

Cynthia pushes the door open wider, revealing Charlotte as she’s scribbling at the conference table. Her light-brown hair is pushed back behind her ears, the sleeves of her button-down folded back, and that familiar notepad is in front of her.

There’s an open box half-filled with powdered donuts.

“Good luck,” Cynthia says and breezes past me. There’s amusement in her voice that I know is completely at my expense.

I push the door fully open. Charlotte looks up. A smudge of sugar dusting is beside her mouth, and she’s wearing reading glasses. I haven’t seen her in glasses before.

“Aiden,” she says. Her voice carries a thread of apprehension, a frisson of tension, and I feel the same thing reverberating through me.

“Chaos,” I say and shut the door behind me. “You’re bribing my staff with baked goods?”

“I’m encouraging them,” she says. Her notepad falls shut with a dull thud. “Have you come for an interview?”

I sit in the chair across from her. “What have you been asking my staff?”

“Most of it was off the record,” she says. “A few have given me fantastic quotes, though. Eric arranged for me to use the space tomorrow, too.”

“What are the quotes?”

There’s a curve to her lips. “And you claim you’re not driven by ego.” She flips open her laptop. “Okay, let’s see… I’m already working on this chapter, so…” Her hesitant glance lands on me for just a moment. “This is paraphrased slightly.” She draws a deep breath as if she’s steeling herself. “Okay.

“‘He came in here when the company was at its weakest. People were quitting left and right. There were bets placed on whether or not we’d file for bankruptcy this week, or the next, or the one after that. He must have heard the talk. But he never once acknowledged it. From the first day, he acted as if this company was strong, and was only going to get stronger. With an attitude like that, he could easily have been mistaken for being naive. But he managed to communicate strength instead. Like if he wasn’t afraid, we shouldn’t be either.’”

The words ring false.

I hadn’t been strong. Nor had I been in any way sure that Titan wasn’t heading toward bankruptcy. But if I’d hidden it well… that’s good, I suppose.

“You’re frowning,” Charlotte says. She closes her laptop and clasps her hands together on its silvery shell. “That doesn’t sound like you?”

I force my face to smooth out into a neutral expression. “I knew they were taking bets. Cynthia was wrong about that.”

“What makes you think that quote is from Cynthia?”

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” she says, “it isn’t. And no, I won’t tell you who said it. It’s off the record. I’ve had to tell every single person who walked in here today that in no way, shape, or form you would trace what was said back to the speaker.”

That makes me scoff. “As if I’d fire them if they said something negative?”

“Yes,” she says. “That’s a real concern for plenty of mere mortals who don’t happen to be the CEO and also the majority shareholder of a company.”

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