Page 63 of Love Me Stalk Me
She gives a small, tired smile. "And he also happens to be a shareholder in the store chain, which means he thinks he owns the staff. And he treats them like it. We always try to have him work with male clothiers only," she continues. "Because he gets exceedingly handsy with the women. But, just like with that other VIP, sometimes that doesn't work."
My fingers curl against my knee, nails digging into the fabric of my pants. "People like that shouldn't be tolerated."
She gives a humorless laugh. "I agree. But there's not much we can do unless he does something overt. And he's toosmart for that."
I don't like how easily she says that.
Like it's just another thing she has to deal with.
Like she's already resigned to it. Like this is a normal part of her job description—managing men who think they own the right to touch whoever they want.
I watch the monitor as a man—mid-fifties, slick hair, tailored suit—lounges in one of the personal shopping suites. His posture communicates entitlement, the way he barely acknowledges the staff hovering nearby.
"Name?"
"Grant Monroe," she sighs. "Owns a dozen major properties in the city, and thinks he owns the women, too."
I glance back at the monitor.
Daniel is assisting Monroe. The VIP sits lounged back in his chair, looking bored. His Italian leather shoes shine under the recessed lighting, his watch glinting ostentatiously with every casual flick of his wrist.
Monroe's the type who expects to be entertained, who needs the staff jumping through hoops for him. I've seen his type before—men who measure their worth by how many people they can make bend to their will.
Daniel speaks to him, gesturing toward the racks of suits, but Monroe barely looks. His attention drifts around the room, disinterested.
Then something shifts in his expression.
His boredom fades. He says something back, and Daniel hesitates, his shoulders stiffening slightly. Izzy lets out a groan and puts her head in her hands.
I watch her. "What?"
She just points at her phone.
A second later, Daniel presses something on his headset, and Izzy's phone starts ringing.
She sighs, pulling it to her ear. "I'll be right there."
I lean back, already gritting my teeth. "What does he want?"
"He's insisting that he needs the store manager."
Of course, he is.
I push back my chair. "Great. I'll go with you, then." The legs scrape against the carpet as I stand, my decision already made.
She hesitates. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
She exhales. "He's a shareholder. He has friends in corporate. If I'm too aggressive, it could mean my job."
I don't likethat answer.
I don't like that she has to play politics with men like this. That she has to smile and be professional with someone who doesn't deserve basic courtesy.
I run my tongue over my teeth, forcing myself to cool down. "I won't cause problems for you."
She smiles, small and grateful. "I know."
