The Magnate's Manifesto(61)

In the days leading up to the trip, she’d watched him grow increasingly agitated. About everything, she suspected: the board meeting, the deal, the trip. She’d offered to cook for him that night thinking maybe she could distract him. Tempt him with a passionate night in bed. But he hadn’t been there, not really. He’d toyed with his dinner, a distant look on his face, and cut the night short after they’d finished, pleading an early flight.

She’d tried not to remember his sarcastic line in Nice about kicking a woman out after they’d cooked for him, but that’s exactly what had happened. And she, who wasn’t at all sure what being in a relationship entailed, hadn’t really known how to analyze it.

Was he pulling back? Did she just need to give him space because of his father? Was she supposed to be unnerved he hadn’t returned any of her texts while he was away except to say that, yes, he’d landed fine?

Her heart thumped nervously in her chest. She supposed she was about to find out when he did come in. Which was a good thing because she needed to ground herself. Being with Jared had made it clear her job wasn’t enough anymore. That being with someone as she was with him was something she’d been missing her entire adulthood. She did want the house and the white picket fence, as long as he was in it. As long as they were equals. And although she knew she needed to take it step-by-step with him, although the idea terrified her as much as it did him, she wanted to know she could have it. That this was real.

The slides stared back at her—clearly lacking. She needed to have them done for Jared so he could review them before they presented at tomorrow’s board meeting. With a sigh, she put her coffee down and went searching for clip art.

Tate Davidson waltzed by her desk, leaving a trail of his sleazy cologne. “Big guy’s in fine form.”

Her gaze whipped to him. “Jared’s back?”

“Sure is.” He lifted a brow. “Surely he’s checked in with his CMO?”

She lowered her head and ignored the dig. Tate was insanely jealous she’d been promoted over his head. And more importantly, her brain whirred, Jared was back. How long had he been in? Why hadn’t he come to see her?

Her phone rang. She barked a greeting into it. It was Nancy from HR, wanting to schedule a meeting. “Sorry, what is this for?”

“Your sixty-day check-in.”

She frowned. “What sixty-day check-in?”

“The one that’s in your contract,” Nancy said patiently. “Jared wanted to review things at the sixty-day mark.”

He did? Wasn’t it usually ninety days? Having signed the contract and not read it thoroughly before they’d left for France, she wouldn’t know. She whipped it out of her drawer and scanned it. There it was on page eight in the fine detail. Employee Trial Period: Employee’s performance in the role to be reviewed at the sixty-day mark.

“Isn’t it usually ninety days?” she asked Nancy.

“Often, yes, but this is a high-profile role. Jared wanted to make sure he wasn’t making any mistakes.”

Mistakes? Her blood flashed hot in her veins as she kept reading, scanning through the legalese. This position can be terminated for any reason determined by the employer, not limited by underperformance.

“And this termination clause…can be terminated for any reason? Is this normal?”

There was a pause. “That’s a little more…stringent than usual. But again, a high-profile position.”

Bailey stared at the words. That clause said Jared could demote her for any reason after two months regardless of her performance on the job. Any clause she’d ever had in a contract had been based on performance.

She pulled in a breath. “You know what, Nancy? I’m going to schedule this check-in myself. Consider it done.”

“Yes, but Bailey we don’t do it that wa—”

Slam. She whacked the earpiece on the base. Shot to her feet. The hallways flashed by in a stream of silver as she made her way to the elevator and up to the executive floor. Mary, Jared’s PA, gave her a bemused look as she stormed past her, knocked once on his door and flung it open.

Jared was bent over a pile of papers, a frown on his face. He looked up in surprise, flicked his gaze over her and rose to close the door.

“What’s wrong?”

“First of all,” she bit out, “it’s nice that Tate Davidson knows you’re back. It would also have been nice to get an answer to one of my texts. I know you’re a very busy, important man but I would have enjoyed that courtesy.”

His face softened, and now she could see the lines of fatigue crisscrossing it. “I’m sorry. I was on my way down after lunch.”