Page 77 of When Hearts Awaken

“Definitely. That is the least we can do for the victims.”

“What is your response to your former CFO claiming his relationships with his underlings were sanctioned by the company?”

Closing my eyes, I tamp down the anger forming at the base of my spine. That spineless idiot is trying to bring everyone down with him because we washed our hands clear of him the moment the allegations came out.

Gritting my teeth, I reply, “That is categorically untrue. I wouldn’t put stock in the words of a predator.”

The reporter nods as she flips to another page in her notebook. She looks up and asks, “The scandal has sparked a debate on whether it is appropriate for a person in power to engage in a relationship with a subordinate or someone in a lesser position. What is your stance on this?”

Sweat beads on my forehead, and I fight the urge to look at Taylor, the dancer in the ballet company I’m sponsoring, who falls under the definition of ‘someone in a lesser position.’ My mind flashes back to the lurid images of us devouring each other in the darkness, my hands on her tits, her cum soaking her underwear as I pushed her over the limit.

I reply, “It isn’t recommended but not forbidden as long as there’s consent and the relationship is adequately disclosed to human resources.”

“But aren’t human resources always on the side of the company? Do you think having this policy could’ve prevented Patterson’s alleged crimes?”

The tie cinches tightly around my neck and I drum my fingers on the table. I eye her name tag. “It’d be archaic for us to forbid human emotions in the workplace, Candace. Hence my position—such relationships aren’t recommended.”

What a load of bullshit, Charles.

Leaning forward, I add, “And I can’t comment on what could’ve happened to past events. I’d like to keep us focused on the ballet tour, please.”

My palms grow sweaty and I maintain my calm smile as Candace finishes jotting her notes and sits down. Another reporter stands up, this time directing his attention to Taylor.

“Ms. Peyton-Anderson, are you satisfied with your performance so far?”

Taylor wets her lips before replying, “I can do better.” Her words carry a steely edge and she sits up straighter.

“There are rumors you got to your position because of the alleged sabotage of the previous lead dancer. Are they true?”

Her skin turns red. “No. Definitely not true. And why are we talking about this? I thought this was supposed to be a conference about the tour and the proceeds to the assault victims. This is a strange line of questioning, don’t you think?”

My lips twitch even as I groan inwardly. The minx has no finesse.

But fuck, that’s what you like about her.

Chuckles erupt in the room as the reporter purses his lips. “We ask questions the public is interested in.” He clears his throat, a predatory gaze in his eyes. I see Taylor flinch at his attitude change. “The ballet world was plagued with a few high profile scandals in the past—sexual harassment by management or company doctors. As one of the highest ranking female dancers at ABTC, you must’ve seen a lot in your career. Is this still rampant in the industry? Have you experienced it yourself?”

Gasps and murmurs arise from the crowd, and Taylor pales. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out.

“I…I—” she whispers, “I think—”

The seconds feel like eternity as I ball my hands into fists on top of my lap.

Quickly, I click on my microphone. “Ms. Peyton-Anderson, you don’t need to answer that question.”

I turn toward the reporter, a muscle pulsing in my jaw as I watch his lips twist into a smug grin. The bastard wanted to put Taylor on the spot to get back at her for embarrassing him. “We’ve entertained your line of questioning long enough. We’re hoping this tour will shine awareness on the rampant harassment and sexual assault women face in their daily lives and you, sir, by putting a dancer on the spot with your ridiculous questions, is the definition ofnotbeing an ally. As men, we need to do better. We need to create safe environments for women—victims or not—to speak up, not hostile environments.”

Standing up, I turn to the rest of the crowd, noting the shocked expressions on their faces and force myself to smile.Calm the fuck down, Charles.

I want to strangle the asshole in front of me.

“Time’s up and the press conference is over. We’re thankful for your support of this important cause.” I button my blazer.

Catching Taylor’s eyes, I watch the color returning to her face and she rakes in a shuddering inhale. She rolls her lips inward as she stares at me, the same vulnerable expression I saw that night in the alcove on her face.

Gritting my teeth, I tear my gaze away from her and leave the room as reporters hurl questions at my back. Anything to not draw more attention to her, even though I want nothing more than to walk up to her, take her hand in mine, and haul her out of this room, away from the soulless leeches.

But what will people think? CEO in a tainted bank in an illicit relationship with a ballerina under his sponsorship?

---