Page 23 of Pucking Wild

“No,” I say with a laugh. “No need. I’m sure this will prove to be nothing. Probably a mandatory refresher on reporting client gifts. Don’t they make us sit through that every Christmas?”

I wave her off as I enter my office. I’ve only got fifteen minutes. Just enough time to sign one of the contracts stacked on my desk. And just like that, Tess Owens closes another multimillion-dollar deal before nine in the morning.

I take a sip of my iced caramel macchiato with a smile.

Fifteen minutes later,I’m on my way down to Human Resources, tablet and coffee in hand.

“Good morning,” I singsong as I hurry my way across the seventh-floor atrium. My heels click as I sweep past the pair of girls working behind the desk. They’re cute things fresh out of college with matching blonde ponytails.

Oh, and they’re both named Katie.

“Morning, Ms. Owens,” says Katie One. She always wears a slightly startled look on her face, like she’s constantly surprised to find herself sitting behind a desk.

“Are they in conference room B?” I say as I walk past.

“Actually, Ms. Owens, they might not be ready for you yet,” says Katie Two, scrambling out of her chair.

“The meeting doesn’t start for another two minutes.” I walk right past them, angling for the frosted glass door of the conference room.

“Ms. Owens, wait—”

The door whispers across the carpet as I push it gently inward. “Good morning, I—”

I pause in the open doorway, my hand pressed against the cool glass. My gaze darts quickly around the room. Two of the three partners are here. Oh, and Dale, of course.

“I thought I was early,” I say. “Did I get the time wrong?”

“Tess, we’re not quite ready for you yet,” Dale replies from his seat at the head of the table.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Eubanks,” calls Katie Two from just behind my shoulder. “I tried to tell her.”

“It’s fine, Katie,” he says with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t understand,” I say, glancing around.

My gaze lands on Troy sitting to the left of Dale at the opposite end of the long conference table. He’s wearing a holier than thou look as he takes me in with those dark eyes.

“What happened?” I say. “Oh god, did someone die?”

“Come in, Tess,” says Dale. “Let’s get the door shut.”

I take two steps in, letting my hand drop to my side so the frosted glass door swings shut in Katie Two’s face. “What happened?” I say again.

Something is definitely wrong.

“Why don’t we have you join us over here,” Dale calls, gesturing to a seat empty by one of the other HR reps. I think her name might be Judy.

“The suspense is killing me here,” I admit, dropping into the leather swivel chair. I set my tablet and coffee down on the table. Now I’m seated directly across from Troy. He balances his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled under his chin.

“We were just discussing the ethos of Powell, Fawcett, and Hughes,” Dale says as soon as I’m seated. “We pride ourselves here at PFH that we’re a company of integrity. We may play in the corporate arena, but we’re a family business first, family values. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Fawcett?”

I glance across the table. Grant Fawcett III is seated next to Troy. He’s the second highest ranking partner at the firm after Troy’s mother. It was his grandfather who started the company with Bea’s father. Beatrice Owens (neé Powell) is the reigning queen of PFH.

“Mhmm,” says Grant with a slow nod. “That’s what my grandfather wanted. That’s what we’re all striving to build here.”

“And part of keeping family values at the center of our business is adhering to a strict code of ethics,” Dale goes on. “We all sign contracts that include a morality clause.” Slowly, Dale turns to me. “Tess, did you know you signed a contract that included a morality clause?”

“Yeah. It was pretty boiler plate,” I reply.

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