Page 1 of The Powerful Boss She Craves

CHAPTER ONE

CATMEME...RECIPEfor lentil and lime salad...picture of a sunset...motivational quote...another cat meme...

Ella Yeung skimmed through her social media, bored to tears. She only had three weeks left at Le Roux Events—thank God—and the last month had been the longest of her life. She’d have stayed at home, as her boss wanted her to do, but pride had her clocking in to work every day. As long as she was an employee of Le Roux Events, she wanted Winters and his pet snake, Siba, the Human Resources officer, to see her face every day, to be reminded of how they’d failed her and, as she’d heard, a handful of other women over the years.

Being the cowards they were, if she walked into a room, they walked out of it.

Lately, Le Roux Events hadn’t been a fun place to work but, in three weeks, when she was out of their hair, Ella had no doubt she and her complaints, would soon be forgotten.

Until Neville Pillay, their best client and beloved family entertainer, sexually harassed another woman working at the company. For how much longer would they protect him by sweeping his actions under the already filthy rug?

How—from Winters to Siba, to the Director of Human Resources at Le Roux International to the owners, the Le Roux brothers—could they live with themselves?

Over the past month, she’d tried to shed light on Pillay’s despicable actions, but her complaints had gone nowhere and she hoped it didn’t give him the confidence to be bolder, to push for more. Ella knew that he got off on feeling powerful and invincible, and prayed he wouldn’t progress to serious sexual assault when the next event planner, secretary, make-up artist, backing singer or PA caught his attention.

It was only after her accusation had become public knowledge—within the company, at least—that she’d discovered he’d sexually harassed at least three other women at Le Roux Events. They’d all subsequently resigned, and Ella had no doubt he’d done the same elsewhere. But how was she supposed to stop him when upper management dismissed her claims and refused to take her seriously?

And, God, she was tired of trying. Tired of fighting. Tired of feeling alone and desperate to be believed. She’d taken her complaints to her boss, Winters, and then to Siba, the Human Resources officer. When it had been put to her that she hadn’t actually been raped, that nothingthatserious had happened—nothing serious? The man had put his hand up her skirt!—she’d emailed the Director of Human Resources of Le Roux International, the sprawling international company that owned the company for which she worked, along with many others.

That fine individual had told her to pipe down, not to make trouble, and that if she kept quiet she’d be given a raise. When she’d refused to do that, she’d been offered a great package to resign. After she’d refused again, she’d been moved from her corner office to a small, cramped office at the far end of the building, which she shared with at least twenty dusty boxes, and had been given low priority events to organise—the events that were usually handed to interns for them to gain experience. Her Wi-Fi access was routinely cut off and her company car had been taken away.

It was obvious that they were trying to push out the trouble maker and, after six weeks, she’d finally cracked and submitted her resignation. Ella wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or angry that she’d buckled. But what she did feel was battered, powerless, less than.

Leaning back in her chair, Ella looked out of her window at the not-so-fabulous view of the car park, wondering yet again how her life had gone off the rails.

Not so long ago, she’d been a well-respected event planner in Durban with a reputation for getting the job done on time, within budget and with flair and pizzazz. She’d been working at a small start-up and, after successfully pulling off a couple of high-profile events, she’d been headhunted to join Le Roux Events, one of the best event-planning companies in the country. She’d be based out of Johannesburg and her new salary and perks would be triple her salary.

It was, so they said, an opportunity not to be missed.

She’d accepted their offer and now, a year later, after having been promoted to Senior Event Planner, she was on her way out. Company management had closed ranks on her, and her colleagues avoided her. Oh, she knew they sympathised with what she was going through—and her female colleagues had sent her messages of support—but times were tough and nobody wanted to get on Winters’ bad side. He was a ‘you’re either with me or you’re my enemy’ boss and nobody was prepared to risk losing their job by siding with her.

She got it—she did—they had mortgages to pay and families to feed. But it still hurt that she stood alone, fighting this battle not only for herself but also for the past, present and future female employees of the company. But such was the influence, spending power and star power of the company’s biggest client.

Ella now knew—in a way she’d suspected before, but only now fully understood—that people only believed what they wanted to, that she couldn’t rely on anyone to listen to her or to believe her, and that the only person she could rely on was herself.

Her dad had brushed off her opinion once and his inaction had been a factor in her mother’s death. Now her boss refused to entertain her accusations against everyone’s favourite client and the bigwigs of Le Roux International put profit and business ahead of their employees’ welfare.

Her mum was dead and Predatory Pillay was still on the loose, free to make sexual, offensive comments to other women, to push them up against walls in empty conference rooms and shove his hand up dresses and between their legs...

Ella felt her throat close and her hands prickle and the papers she held fluttered to her desk. She would never have to have anything to do with him again. She was safe and, quite frankly, she’d been lucky. She had no doubt that, had that door not slammed, had they not heard the rumble of a cleaner pushing a cart, Pillay would’ve done worse...

She wondered if she’d missed any signs, something to suggest that he turned into a monster when no one else was around. But, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t think of one instance that made her think he’d assault her; that he was anything other than the perfect gentleman he was reported to be.

Not only had she had been pinned against a wall and subjected to his roving hands but, because she refused to keep quiet, she’d been forced to quit her well-paying job and been branded a trouble maker. How could she be alone with a man again? Would she always be second-guessing herself, scared to take a chance, constantly wondering if this was another situation that would go south? How was she ever going to date a man again, take him home, go to bed with him?

Her faith and trust in people, never good, was now lost. Her trust in herself was shaky at best.

But, worse, what if Pillay did it again? What if the next time, someone didn’t interrupt his assault and he raped a woman? Could she live with herself if that happened? But what more could she do? She’d tried to report him, tried to stop him. But she was just one person and Le Roux International was a multi-billion-dollar international company with tens of thousands of employees. She’d tried. That had to be enough.

But it wasn’t.

Feeling helpless, and being disbelieved and dismissed made her remember what had happened fourteen years ago, when she’d screamed at her dad to listen to her. She’d begged him to take her mum to hospital, convinced something was very wrong with her suddenly sleepy, drunk-sounding mother. She’d begged, cried and yelled but, because her mum liked the odd lunchtime gin and tonic her father had opted to let her mum ‘sleep it off’. Hours later, she had died dead from a massive brain bleed.

She couldn’t help wondering, then and now, whether she’d used the wrong words or whether she hadn’t expressed herself clearly. Had she been too emotional, not concise enough? Did it matter? Her mum’s death had caused her to build strong, high walls. But the Le Roux management, by not believing her, had managed to scale what she’d thought were pretty good defences and flood her still sliced-up soul and unhealed open wounds with the emotional equivalent of hydrochloric acid.

Ella heard a door slam down the hallway and it jerked her out of her cycle of self-pity. Straightening her spine, she told herself to look to the future.

She didn’t think anything remained for her in South Africa. The event planning world was interconnected, and Winters had bad-mouthed her to anyone who would listen, from clients to suppliers and competitors. She’d been told that she now had a reputation for being difficult and a trouble maker. There was little chance she’d pick up another job at the same salary and level in the city. She could return to Durban—her father was still there—but what was the point when they didn’t talk? Durban would also mean taking a massive cut in salary and smaller projects. It would be a step backwards.

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