Page 93 of Power
“March 2018?” He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
Liar. My pulse quickened as I thought of this woman, Rebecca, who’d been brave enough to file a complaint that ultimately went nowhere.
I opened the folder on my desk, making a show of reviewing the documents inside.
“There was an HR complaint filed. I’m reviewing all outstanding issues as the new owner.”
His voice had an edge now. Defensive. “That was resolved years ago.”
Resolved?My teeth ground together. It was “resolved” because there was not enough evidence, so it, apparently, had come downto who was more believed: a low-level employee or a leader with a country club membership. The injustice of it burned in my chest.
I leaned back in my chair, deliberately casual.
“You know how it is these days. Everything needs to be documented properly. HR’s been all over me about company culture.” I released a strategic smile, watching his reaction.
He relaxed slightly, misreading my signals. “Between us, it’s getting impossible to even have a conversation with female colleagues anymore.”
My stomach turned at his assumption that I’d be someone who’d protect the status quo. The urge to leap across the desk, grab him by his tie—a hideous silk number with tiny sailboats—and drag him around my office like a dog on a leash was almost overwhelming.
“I hear you,” I said, standing to pour two glasses of water, needing the moment to compose myself so I didn’t paint my walls with the blood of an entitled asshole’s split lip. “Everything gets misinterpreted.”
He accepted the glass with a nod. “Exactly. One compliment, and suddenly, you’re the bad guy.”
“So, what actually happened that night?” I asked, keeping my tone conversational. “The after-hours meeting? By the sounds of it, she blew it completely out of proportion.” The lie tasted vile, but I had to get him on my side. Believing he was just clearing the record with me.
“Nothing worth writing up,” he said with a dismissive wave. “We were working late on a project. Just the two of us. I thought we were having a moment, you know? Friendly chat, a little flirting.”
I nodded, encouraging him to continue while simultaneously wondering what he’d look like with a broken nose.
“All I did was touch her leg to emphasize a point.” He shrugged. “Next thing I know, she’s filing a complaint. Total overreaction.”
Gotcha, you self-incriminating moron.
I setmy glass down slowly, my expression hardening. “So, you did touch her inappropriately.”
His eyes widened, then narrowed as he realized his mistake. “No, that’s not?—”
“You just admitted it, Toby.” My voice was ice now, the facade dropping away like a shed skin.
His face flushed with anger. “She was asking for it, the way she?—”
“You’re fired,” I cut him off. “Effective immediately.”
“What?” He stood up abruptly. “You can’t do that over some misunderstanding from years ago!”
“It wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was harassment.” My voice rose now, sharp with controlled anger. “And based on the pattern I’ve seen in your department, it wasn’t an isolated incident.”
“This is bullshit,” he snarled. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. I’ll sue for wrongful termination.”
I took a step closer to him. “Please do. That way, everything—and I mean, everything—will become part of the public record. They’ll depose all your former employees, under oath.”
Look at him, at a loss for words.
“Security will escort you to clear out your desk.”
Part of me—a primal, vengeful part—hoped he’d try something. Give me an excuse to take just one swing. Was that too much to ask from the universe?
“That little—” he started.
