Page 6 of Free to Run
My words confuse her, and she appears uncertain about her next move.
“I don’t believe you misunderstood me, Melody. Step back and sit down,” I order. I’m pissed and ready to read her the riot act, but I don’t.
“Can you communicate your job description for me, Ms. Dempsey?” She starts to ramble, so I hold up a hand, stopping her. “Succinctly.”
Narrowing her dark eyes, she sits. Taking a deep breath, she says, “Managing the successful completion of investigations without compromising the integrity or privacy of our clients.”
“Something you failed at spectacularly today,” I sneer. “Not only did your team”— I wave my hand at the smoky glass window separating her office from the conference room I was just in—“fail to meet the objective of a client who was paying us an exorbitant amount of money, one of them broke the privacy clause.” Before she can object, I continue. “That individual will be dealt with by Hudson Legal. I suggest you stay out of it unless you want the same fate.” At those words, her aggressive stance fades and fear sets in. “Moving on. I was inclined to hold you accountable for all of this, but Caleb convinced me to give you the opportunity to address these issues. However, he also agrees with me. This is a one-strike-and-you’re-out scenario.” The panic eases from her eyes, promptly followed by something I’m used to when dealing with both men and women who think they can get something from me.
Calculation.
Melody stands and walks around her desk, and I hold my ground. Mentally, I’m berating poor choices made while drinking. God, I must have been more of a fucking mess than I realized over my sister missing for so damn long to have ever screwed this piece of work.
“What can I do to make it up to you, Keene?” she breathes, trailing her nails along my suit lapel.
I look into the corner of the office with mild disgust, seeing the small red dot of the hidden camera flashing. I know I’m going to catch hell for this later with Caleb, but I’m glad I had the wherewithal to have him monitoring all conversations in this office for the duration of my time here due to the gravity of the situation.
“Mr. Marshall,” I correct her coldly. I step back away from her, making my lack of interest succinct.
Apparently, my intentions are not clear enough for the barracuda in front of me. “I can call you that…Mr. Marshall. Are there other parts of this…improvement plan I need to work on to make sure I’m on solid ground with the company’s executive staff?” Her hand reaches for me again.
Before it can make contact, I caution her. “Ms. Dempsey, I’d like to advise you this conversation is being recorded.”
Her seductive veneer fades away. “What?” she chokes out, her eyes darting to the corners of the room. She knows where the cameras are, at least she should. She helped install them.
“I was not required to advise you of this in advance since, as a part of your acceptance of this role at Hudson, you agreed to one hundred percent monitoring of your activities in this office. That includes video surveillance.” Her face is now chalk white.
Ah, the rush of power. I wish I could have justified continuous monitoring before this past week. I wonder what other information we might have found.
“I—I wh—” she stutters.
“With that understanding, Ms. Dempsey, let me make a few things clear. Number one, if it was entirely my choice, you would be gone. At this point, if half the analysts in that room left with you, I’m not certain that would be a hardship considering this disaster.” Melody winces. I’m brutal, but I don’t care. Hudson’s DC reputation is on the line.
“Number two, we don’t enforce a ‘no-dating’ policy at this company, but certain rules must be followed. No means no, whether that means being involved with someone upward or downward. Have I expressed in the last”—I rapidly calculate—“sixteen months, any desire to become involved with you again?”
She lowers her head, but not before her cheeks reveal how frustrated she’s become. She grinds out, “No.”
“One could also make the argument that this could be considered harassment because we’ve spoken about this before. I. Am. Not. Interested.” I say the last words slowly, emphatically pounding the point home for what will hopefully be the last time.
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I’m certain it’s Caleb telling me to calm down.
“How can I make this any clearer, Ms. Dempsey? Do I need to send out an intradepartmental memo to all Hudson’s executive staff, advising them of a regrettable one-night stand?” I lean forward across the desk. Her anger is now emanating from her. Without caution, I continue. “Your job is to run this facility, not worry if I get my coffee each morning or if my cock has been sucked the night before. Am I understood?” I’ve made the issue clear enough. I’m sick of walking into this office week after week, fending off this woman’s advances.
“It’s your word against mine, Mr. Marshall,” she warns, emphasizing my name. Her fury could light the room on fire.
“Actually, Ms. Dempsey, it’s not.” Leaning closer, I say softly, knowing the mics can pick up every word, “Not when you’re emailing your girlfriends on company time or talking on the company phone. We’re permitted to record and review all traffic on our networks. Everything.” I point to her computer, her phone, and again to the recording device in the corner of the wall as I speak.
Her face colors from crimson back to ghost white. Her hands are shaking when she leans away from me and folds them in her lap.
“You should feel incredibly lucky I’m leaving Virginia for the foreseeable future, Ms. Dempsey. But rest assured, your actions will be closely monitored.” I straighten to my full height. Is it wrong to take great delight in her being so nervous? Because I do. She swallows audibly. “Excellent. Any questions about my directives in the boardroom?”
A quick negative head shake.
I think I’ve finally made my point, just in time to make my flight back to New York.
“Then we’ll see what kind of damage control your team can do by Monday. Enjoy your weekend,” I conclude and make my way out of Hudson Investigations to start my journey home.
Home. A word I haven’t used in years.
