Page 57 of My Cruel Billionaire

“Your evidence, such as it is, is purely circumstantial, Michael.” I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. “It’s flimsy and you know it.”

“This isn’t a court of law, Jenna.” His eyes grew narrow and angry. “It’s business, and it has its own set of rules that we have to play by. Sometimes you have to make decisions based on your gut instincts when there’s little evidence to go on.”

“Oh, so as long as you have a gut feeling, it’s going to be alright?” I scoffed. “Sure, let’s put all of the company’s revenue into buying Blockbuster video stock. I’m sure that investment will pay off in the end. I have a ‘gut feeling’ about it, don’t you know?”

“You don’t have to be rude,” Michael snapped.

“Michael, you’re the poster child for being rude and yelling at people at these kinds of meetings,” I growled. I was mad and getting madder by the moment. “And besides, your people were the ones being disruptive and rude.”

Michael arched his eyebrows at me.

“Oh? My people weren’t the ones throwing furniture through the air and acting like tough guys. And not only that, but I got my people in line. How about you? Not a word of recrimination for the chair thrower?”

“Oh please, Michael, he didn’t throw the damn chair, he stood up and it fell over. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Drama? You’re the one who’s creating all of this drama, Jenna.”

“And just by what twisted logic did you come to that conclusion, Michael?”

The other team members just kind of sat there looking worried. I guess it was a bit like Mom and Dad fighting. Except that Dad had three little suck-ups eating up every word he dished out and hissing at me on a figurative level like I was a movie villain every time I opened my mouth.

“You’re the one who won’t accept the simple truth that one of your people is at best horrifically incompetent at keeping their mouths shut, or at worst trying to actively sabotage this very lucrative merger.”

“Evidence, Michael?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

He loomed large over the desk, his eyes narrowed to dark slits. As hard and as impregnable as gemstones, beautiful but offering no comfort. I didn’t ask for any quarter, though, and none was given.

“I don’t need to present evidence,” he said. “I know what I know. The mole is not from my team. He or she must be on your team. Period, end of story.”

“You can say that all you want. Period, end of story,” I sneered. “You seem to forget this is a merger, Michael. It’s a merger. Two parts coming together to form a greater whole. You can’t do that if one of the parts thinks it’s infallible and gobbles up everything in sight.”

Michael threw his hands up in the air, a big vein pulsing at his temple.

“Jenna, you drive me crazy, do you know that?” he rudely gestured at his own people. “I know that none of these stuffed shirt sycophants is the mole. None of them has the spine for it. Why do you think I chose them?”

He turned to Blake, Chad, and Trent, who all looked like kicked dogs.

“Don’t sulk,” he snapped. “Sure, you’re all talented at your jobs, but you were chosen because you obey. Period.”

He looked at me and scowled.

“End of story.”

Oh, he just had to say that didn’t he? He just had to try and rub salt into an open wound.

“You think that because I chose a knowledgeable, experienced team, and you chose a bunch of suck-ups that you’re somehow a better leader than I am?” I sputtered.

“There are many reasons why I’m a better leader than you are, Jenna,” he said matter-of-factly. It irked me even more that he said it that way, and he knew that. He was being cruel again. “I don’t have time to list them all. We would need a whole week of meetings to do that.”

“Go to hell, Michael,” I said, my voice wavering a bit but my resolve holding firm. “You don’t know for certain it’s someone on my team. Like you said, you would have the authorities involved if you did have evidence. All you have is supposition.”

“Enough,” Michael snapped. “It can’t be my team. I know how to lead people, and you clearly do not.”’

I felt as if I’d been slapped. I think I’d have preferred a slap to how much his words hurt.

“You are not competent,” he said, again grinding salt into my fresh wounds. “You failed me again and again. I’m done with you.”

His face grew as impregnable as stone.

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