"I'm sure that's valuable for some people." Blake's tone suggested he wasn't among them. "But I think it's important to know the difference between staff and management from the beginning." His expression turned cold and his eyes narrowed on her before he turned back to me.
My jaw tightened. The disrespect was becoming less subtle by the moment.
"Tessa attends executive meetings," I said carefully. "She provides valuable analytical insights."
"Does she?" Blake turned to study Tessa with new interest, but not the good kind. "How unusual. Most assistants don't sit in on executive discussions."
"Most assistants don't have Tessa's qualifications."
"What qualifications are those, exactly?"
The question was directed at me, but phrased to exclude Tessa entirely. As if she weren't sitting three feet away from him.
"I have a finance degree and have been working in investment analysis," Tessa said quietly.
Blake nodded without really listening. "That's nice. Though I have to wonder if there might be some… confusion about roles here."
"What do you mean?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew.
"Well, it seems like perhaps some support personnel have overstepped their positions. It happens sometimes when boundaries aren't clearly maintained."
The words were delivered cruelly, and I found myself ready to tell him off.
Not because his words wounded me, but because of what they did to Tessa.
I watched her face carefully compose itself professionally, and she retreated behind the mask she wore when men dismissed her.
Then something inside me snapped.
"That's enough." My voice cut across the room with enough force to make Blake blink in surprise.
"I'm sorry?"
"You will show respect to everyone in this office, regardless of their position. Tessa has earned her place here through talent and hard work, not through anyone's charity."
Blake's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't mean any disrespect?—"
"Yes, you did. And it stops now."
The room fell silent. Tessa was staring at me with wide eyes, clearly not expecting me to defend her so forcefully. Blake looked stunned, as if he'd never heard me raise my voice before.
Which was probably true. I'd been an absent father, but when I was present, I'd been permissive to the point of negligence. Guilty about my absence, I'd rarely disciplined either of my children.
"Dad, I think there's been a misunderstanding?—"
"The only misunderstanding is yours. You walk into my office acting entitled to a job you haven't earned, showing disrespect to a colleague who's forgotten more about finance than you've learned, and you think that's acceptable behavior?"
Blake's face was flushing now, embarrassment and anger warring in his expression. "I was just trying to understand the corporate structure?—"
"By insulting people? By suggesting they've overstepped boundaries you know nothing about?" I stood up, my own anger building. "Is that what they're teaching you about leadership at that expensive school I'm paying for?"
"Mr. Cross," Tessa said softly, "it's all right."
But it wasn't all right. Nothing about this was all right. Watching my son treat the woman I?—
The thought stopped me cold. The woman I what?
The woman I loved?