Page 110 of Gather the Storm

Shit show didn’t begin to cover it.

By Monday I was almost glad to be going to Cantwell, and that was saying something given the fact that it meant facing Gray. I got to the kitchen early in an effort to avoid the guys, made my smoothie, and left the house before they’d come downstairs.

Today was a big day: I needed to deal with the mess at Cantwell, then go to my dad’s house and try to find Blake’s phone. It was one of my last chances to look for it while Ruth was at school, before summer break started, and I wasn’t aboutto involve Ruth in my plans to find out what had really happened to Blake.

I went over the first part of my plan on the way to work: confront Gray and tell him I hoped what had happened wouldn’t interfere with our working relationship. The office was small, there was no official HR department, and I had zero desire to report what had happened to Diana.

I knew it wasn’t my fault. Wolf was right: being drunk didn’t give some asshole the right to rape me. But honestly? I was just tired, and I didn’t want to be confronted with what had happened every time I went into the office. I also didn’t know if Gray Cantwell was the vindictive type. I was only twenty. I didn’t need this following me around for the rest of my career, whatever that ended up being, which I knew was a tale as old as time.

By the time I got to the office, I was fairly confident I could smooth things over. Gray wouldn’t want what had happened to be a big deal either.

I parked at the curb and climbed the steps to Cantwell’s offices. I was nervous when I headed down the hall, but Natalie and Kyle were already there, and they seemed fine so I doubted word had gotten out.

I was making myself a cup of coffee and bracing myself for the convo with Gray when someone spoke behind me.

“Daisy, I’d like to see you in my office.”

When I turned around, it wasn’t Gray Cantwell standing in the doorway but his dad, Piers.

“Sure thing,” I said.

I pulled my coffee off the machine and followed Piers down the hall with my heart beating a drumbeat of anxiety in my chest.

Piers stopped outside the double doors to his corner office and gestured for me to enter ahead of him. I did, and he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

I had the sudden fear that I was about to be fired. I’d never had a real job, so I didn’t know what being fired felt like, but I had a feeling it was something like this.

“Please,” he said, “take a seat.”

I sat in one of the chairs opposite his desk while he walked around it to take a seat in his luxe leather chair.

He folded his hands on the desk. “I owe you an apology.”

Okay, that wasnotwhat I’d expected to hear. “Excuse me?”

“Gray came clean about what he did to you after drinks at the Mill last Thursday,” Piers said. “I’ve instructed him to stay out of the office until you’re comfortable having him back.”

“Oh… wow,” I said, trying to imagine the scenario in which Gray confessed to trying to rape one of his father’s employees. “That’s… wow.”

I sounded like an idiot, but this really hadn’t been on my bingo card.

“I won’t make excuses for him,” Piers continued, his eyes full of concern. “To say I’m disappointed is an understatement. Creating a safe and supportive work environment for all of Cantwell’s employees if of the utmost importance — to the company and our plans for the future and to me as a business person. Would you like to speak to Diana?”

“Diana?” I was trying to process what was happening. I wasn’t getting fired or pressured to sign something to make nice with Gray and the company.

I was being… supported?

“I’m sorry we don’t have an official HR department at this location just yet,” Piers said. “But Diana has a long history in HR and I’m more than happy for you to speak to her, file a formal complaint for the record.”

I took a breath and tried to calculate what would be the wisest course of action. Everything was happening so fast. I’d expected to have an awkward but hopefully face-saving conversation with Gray, not file an official harassment complaint that would be in my employee file at Cantwell for the rest of my life.

“I don’t… That’s okay,” I finally said. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

It definitely hadn’t been, but at that point I just wanted an off-ramp from the conversation because it was more than a little awkward to talk to Piers about the fact that his son had almost raped me.

Piers nodded. “The option is always there if you change your mind.”

“Thank you.” I nodded and drew in a breath, finally starting to get my head around the fact that it was going to be okay: I’d be able to keep my job at Cantwell and no one was going to slut-shame me or drunk-shame me or whatever. “I… I really appreciate your support.”

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