Just One Night, Part 2_ Exposed(34)

“He did.”

“He’s going to take care of Freeland, Dave, the works,” he says, as he finally brings his attention back to me. “And if Freeland has a problem with Mr. Dade’s terms, well he is only the cofounder after all. Mr. Dade will put the right pressure on the right people. You’ll keep your job as long as we keep that account and that means that it’s most definitely in your interest to keep him happy.”

My fingers slide over the surface of my desk. For me it has as much import as any throne. I earned my place here. Dave got me the interview, not the job. I deserve to have the assignment given to me by Robert even if he didn’t know it at the time he gave it. “Mr. Dade and I have talked about this,” I explain. “He will not be taking care of anyone. I will. This is my fight and I’m fighting it alone.”

Tom’s expression doesn’t change; his face doesn’t move. The only hint of frustration is in the way he squeezes the armrest of the chair, just tight enough to make the tips of his fingers go white. “That’s not a wise choice, Kasie.”

“It’s the choice I’ve made. I meet with Dave tonight. By tomorrow he won’t be a problem anymore. Freeland will never have grounds to attack me. It’ll be done.”

“And if things don’t turn out your way?”

I press my lips into a thin line of rebellion. I will not entertain that scenario.

“Ah, no plan B? Well then we’ll use mine: if you don’t have it under control, we’ll let Mr. Dade handle this.”

“How? By telling the board of directors that they need to keep me on until he tires of me?”

“If necessary. But don’t worry, Kasie. I doubt any man ever tires of you easily.”

“I can’t believe this,” I growl.

“Really?” He frowns. “You’re the one who got this ball rolling. And it’s a nice ball. We’re all going to get a lot richer because of your talents . . . all your talents.”

Again I don’t answer and Tom sighs. “Look,” he says, his voice almost weary, almost angry, “I don’t really care how this is handled, as long as it is. But let’s face it, if you’re handling this yourself, it’s because Mr. Dade’s allowing you to do so. That man holds all the cards. Which brings me back to my original question. Does he want the entire team to make the presentation or would he rather you give it to him personally in intimate detail? Because I swear to God, Kasie, if you have to dress up in a G-string and pasties and give him this report while rubbing your ass up against a pole in order for us to keep his business, then you better get out the company card and book it on over to Fredrick’s of Hollywood.”

“Get out of my office.”

“No.”

I lean back in my chair. “You want to keep Mr. Dade happy? Fine. How happy do you think he’ll be if I tell him you’re harassing me?”

And now the smile is back. “That’s my girl. Now you’re thinking like the merciless businesswoman I know and love.” He stands up. “For the record, I don’t want to upset you. I want you happy, healthy, and available . . . to Mr. Dade. I’ll be keeping in touch with him, too, but you’ll always be the main point of contact—”

“Is that supposed to be a pun?” I snap.

Tom blinks, surprised, and then laughs, a full jolly laugh, like a perverted Santa Claus.

“My, my, aren’t we paranoid these days!” he exclaims once the laugh has calmed to a chuckle. “But it’s good. Point of contact—I’m sure Mr. Dade will remain very pleased with you.” He shakes his head as he turns to leave, unaccountably amused.

“You know, you think the two of us are alike, but we’re not.”

Tom turns, waits for me to continue.

“I made a mistake. I got involved with someone when I was already involved with someone else. It was wrong.”

“And I told you, I don’t fault you—”

“But you should,” I say. “The only reason you don’t is because you have no decency. No sense of right and wrong. You’re a womanizing narcissist who probably buys his romance off of Craigslist. I screwed up. You are screwed up.”

Tom waits a beat. He’d have a perfect poker face if it wasn’t for the clenched jaw. But then he shrugs with forced casualness. “I’ll call Mr. Dade and find out how he wants the report delivered,” he says as he reaches for the door.

“Tom!” I say. He stops and turns toward me. “You don’t need to call him. I’ve handled his account beautifully up to this point. All the Maned Wolf executives trust me. Do not undermine the whole team by interfering.” I cross my arms across my chest purposefully to demonstrate my stubbornness. I think I see a gleam in Tom’s eyes but I don’t know what it means.