"Hello?"
It takes a second for the voice on the other end to kick in.
"Meg?"
My heart almost stops. "Dad?"
"Hi, sweetheart." My dad sounds tired. Very tired. He's sounded tired for as long as I can remember, but I don't even think we exchanged more than two words the last time he and Mom visited.
I swallow hard. "Is something wrong?" I've got no idea what else to say.
"No, no, no," he says, quickly. "I mean...no. Aside from...no."
Nobody talks around in circles better than him, especially when it comes to inconvenient emotions.
"Okay?" I just stand there, in relative silence.
"Are you at the animal shelter?" he asks me, in a forced-casual tone.
"Yeah. I started up again after..." Shit. Shit. He doesn't know I'm still with Adrian. He doesn't know I'm married. Unless, of course, he found out from somebody else.
"I wanted to tell you congratulations," he says. "Your mom was pretty hurt that you didn't tell her about the wedding, but I figured you must have had your reasons."
Oh, he figured that, huh?
I don't have the energy for this right now. Back when I was a kid, my dad and I were inseparable. He even confided in me that he knew my mom was irrational and that I just had to deal with her moods, and we'd be okay as long as we had each other. But when push to came to shove, he couldn't take sides. And that was effectively the same as siding with her.
"She hates Adrian even more than she hates me," I tell him, already knowing what his comeback is going to be.
"She doesn't hate you, Meg," he says, sharply. "You know how much it hurt her when you used to say things like that?"
"Yeah, I do," I tell him, loudly enough that the dogs actually shut up for a minute. "I know because she told me every day how much I was breaking her heart by not being perfect. I know because she could never let me forget how much she sacrificed for me and how ungrateful I was. She told me I was hateful and cruel and that I had the devil inside me, from when I was five years old, Dad - I know you don't want to remember, but if you're just going to send me on a guilt trip, this conversation is over."
He's quiet for so long that I think he might've actually hung up. But then, finally, he speaks.
"I know," he says, finally. He sounds so defeated. “I just…I’m just trying to see things from both perspectives. She always loved you, Meg, in her own way. If she was ever capable of loving anybody, she loved you."
The past tense is freaking me out, despite his assurance that nothing is wrong.
"I left," he says, simply, after another long pause. "I still can't quite believe it myself, but I left."
Shit.
I never thought he’d actually do it. No matter how miserable they were together, no matter how much they fought, they were inseparable.
"Dad, I...I kind of don't know what to say."
"Don't worry. I'm not asking for anything. I'm going to be fine. But I thought...this isn't going how I planned. I thought maybe I could see you. I know you're still angry and you're right to be, but I miss you. No matter what, I'm still your father."
"I don't know, Dad." My head is pounding, I can’t possibly deal with this right now. “I need to think about it. Okay?”
His voice is so small, so defeated. “All right. Call me - please?”
“Yeah.”
I hang up, and only then do I notice my hand is shaking.
When I get home, there's a faint noise echoing through the apartment. No - make that two noises. It sounds like the TV is on in the living room, which is weird, because normally Adrian would be holed up in his office at this time of day. Well - most times of the day, really.
He's also talking on the phone. Loudly. Momentarily forgetting about my own problems, I head towards the sound of his voice.
"Yes but I don't see what that has to do with..." He pauses for a moment, reluctantly. "...I can prove it. There's a million employees at that place that'll testify against him....no, I'm not sure. Maybe they all got sucked into the Bermuda Triangle since the last time I was there. I don't fucking know, Bob. But this is ludicrous. Everyone knows he was a creep, that was his reputation....yeah but that's not the point, is it? I'm not the one that should be on trial here. I fired him the first time somebody lodged a formal complaint. Until then, what could I do?....yes, of course I have a witness."
He looks up at me as I walk into the room.
"Yes, of course she'll testify. It's my wife." He sighs sharply. "YES I REALIZE HOW THAT LOOKS."
"What's going on?" I half-whisper, setting down my bag.
He just gives me the wait a minute finger. Ugh.
"Well, I didn't know I was going to marry her when I called her in to the meeting," he snaps. "I'll try to plan better in the future."
Oh, shit. I’ve got no idea what’s happening, but at least now I know who it involves.
Shortly before we started our….dalliance, Adrian fired an employee named Mike Morgan who had a long history of inappropriate behavior. While he'd always made me feel uncomfortable, I never complained to Adrian, because I thought he'd laugh it off. But it turned out that Mr. Morgan was escalating his behavior significantly with some of the interns, using his relative power and influence within the company to keep them silent. When one of them finally told on him, Adrian struck like a viper.
It was one of those rare times when I got a glimpse of his true character, back then. It probably influenced my subsequent actions more than I’d like to admit.
“All right, all right,” Adrian’s saying. “Yes, I understand you need time to research. Call me as soon as you have any advice. I promise I won’t say a word to anybody about it until you give me a script, but hurry it the fuck up, okay?”
He tosses his phone down, and immediately rakes his fingers through his hair.
“What the hell is going on?” I demand.
“Mike Morgan,” he mutters. “He’s filing a lawsuit for wrongful termination. Says I failed to properly document his alleged behavior, oh and also, by the way, I was actually sexually harassing him.”
All I can do is stare at him.
“Yes. Yes.” He lets out a little bark of humorless laughter. “I know how absurd it is, but he doesn’t care if it’s going to hold up in court or not, he just wants to drag me through the mud - and this is his idea of that. Impugning my professional reputation, which is no longer of any use to me, and questioning my sexuality, which is a big old who gives a fuck except in the court of public opinion. And he knows that. If he’d accused me of harassing women, it would’ve carried a lot less weight because he wasn’t also calling me gay. It’s all very carefully strategized. He’s like the Winston Churchill of schoolyard bullying.”
“This is ridiculous.” I’m pacing the room now, trying to wrap my head around all the insanity. “There’s no way it’ll go to court - right? We have to settle. I know it’s ridiculous, but…just keep it as quiet as possible.”
“A bit late for that,” Adrian says, picking up the TV remote and hitting the DVR’s rewind button. “This is one of those sensationalist ‘news’ shows that spun off of a website that spun off of God knows what, but they apparently have enough credibility that everyone in the known universe is going to hear about this soon. At least, that’s what my lawyer’s warning me about.”
He presses play.
I’d really hoped I would never see Mike Morgan’s face again. But here it is, in living color, speaking with quiet gravitas and total authority about the most ridiculous bullshit.
“…and then, a few months after he fires me, he resigns in disgrace and he's never heard from again. You'd think a story like that - I mean, it merits an appearance on a daytime talk show, right? If nothing else? I think he just wanted to fade away. He hoped everybody from this life would forget about him, but I'm not going to forget the way I was treated."
The interviewer just keeps frowning. ”What do you say in response to the allegations that you yourself wer
e sexually harassing several of the female employees at Risinger Industries?"
He shrugs. ”I have to assume it was some kind of deflection. I won't pretend that I didn't have my little office indiscretions. Everybody does. But I'm not surprised he's trying to smear my character."
"I'd like to stress we haven't heard anything from Mr. Risinger,” the interviewer pipes up. “He hasn't responded to our requests for comment. However, we do have certain anonymous sources within the company who say they witnessed you behaving inappropriately on various occasions."
"Where are they?” he exclaims. “That's the thing about this whole situation. It needs to be brought to the light. I'm the only one who's willing to get out there and tell my story. I'm not afraid."
“They might fear retaliation,” the interviewer points out. “Some might say that your actions right now are just trying to seek revenge against Mr. Risinger for feeling wronged - rather than anything productive.”
“Some might,” he agrees. “But I think anyone who really looks at the situation critically will be able to see that I’ve got nothing to gain from this. I’m not suing for damages, I just want the truth to get out there. Nobody will hire me because of the accusations that have been made. I’d be willing to forgive and forget, if he hadn’t ruined my life.”
Adrian hits the pause button. “You get the gist of it,” he said, tossing the remote down on the sofa. “So…that’s been my day, how are you?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to bring up my father calling - it really is. But I can’t bring myself to burden him with one more thing to worry about. Not when he’s dealing with…whatever this is.
“Not so great, now,” I tell him, going in for a hug. He relaxes a tiny bit, deflating slightly in my arms.
“What the hell are we going to do?” he mutters.
“Whatever we have to,” I tell him. “You know I’ll be there with you. Whatever it is.”
Adrian shakes his head. “Unless there’s some miracle and he decides to drop the lawsuit - which doesn’t seem likely - they’re going to want you at the deposition. Since you were the witness to the firing, your testimony’s invaluable. Of course, now that we’re married, it’s probably not going to hold as much weight.”
“What about character witnesses?” I suggest. “And what about the intern? The one who spoke up? She might be willing to step forward for this, too.”
“No,” he says, firmly. “I won’t ask her to do that. If it goes to trial…the kinds of things they’ll say about her…”
“I know,” I tell him. “But she should be able to make the choice.”
I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. My head’s swimming, but I know I have to stay strong for him. The last thing he needs is me crumbling to pieces right now.
So I wait until late that night, when his breathing grows steady beside me, before I let myself cry.
CHAPTER TEN
ADRIAN
I’ve only managed to sleep for a few hours when the sound of Meg rustling through the closet wakes me up. I blink a few times, rolling over to squint at her. She’s half-dressed already, like she’s planning on going into the shelter.
“What are you doing?” I mutter.
“Work,” she says. “Unless you’d rather I stay home.”
Well. I can’t think of a single good reason, except that I want her here. I don’t want to do this alone. I’m not even sure what “this” is. Worrying. Waiting. Watching the same footage of that fucker’s interview over and over again, until the words start to lose all meaning.
“No, it’s fine.” I flop back on the bed. “Just didn’t think you’d be up to it. That’s all.”
“Call me when you hear anything,” she says. “Okay? Or if you need me to come home.”
“Hmm.” I pull the covers over my head, although I know I won’t be able to get back to sleep.
Once she’s gone, I stubbornly try - until my phone starts buzzing. Hoping against hope that it’s my lawyer, Bob, but knowing it probably won’t be, I pick it up and stare at the screen until it comes into focus.
It’s a text message, not a call. And it’s a number I recognize. One I thought I’d blocked long ago.
Adrian, I saw the interview. Please call me. We need to talk.
Kara.
Kara, the publicist I once hired to help manage my affairs as Natalie, who gave me a whole lot of bad advice and eventually spilled my identity as Natalie McBride to the internet at large. It ended up working out fine for me, but I have absolutely no desire to speak to her again.
Meg was right all along - Kara was jealous, and not to be trusted. I’m almost positive I blocked her number, but evidently it didn’t stick.
My phone buzzes again.
It wasn’t me.
I pick it up and stare at the words for a while before answering.
You expect me to believe that?
She starts responding immediately.
No. But it’s true.
Unbelievable.
So who the hell did it? Who else could’ve known who I was? You were the only person I told.
She types back: Didn’t Mike Morgan have connections in HR?
I’m not quite following. Frustrated with the ambiguity of text, I pick up the phone and hit call.
“Adrian…” she says, as soon as she picks up.
“Let’s dispense with formalities,” I cut in. “What are you implying? You think Mike could’ve gotten to the information somehow? How would he track it down? We talked about this. At length. We made sure my tracks were covered.”
“I know,” she says. “But think about it for a second. At Risinger Industries, did payroll report to the financial department, or to HR?”
“HR. It never made sense to me, I was trying to transition it out, but…” I stop. “Wait. Are you suggesting…”
“Yes, Adrian,” she says, firmly. “Think about it. Royalty checks were drawn off of the revenue from every other book that the publishing division put out, except yours. I bet they could track the cash flow right back to you. At that point, they could piece it together pretty easily. No offense, but your books are pretty on-the-nose - especially if they knew or suspected you carried a torch for Meg in real life. It’s easy to put the pieces together, once you have the suspicion.”
“I don’t think anyone knew,” I point out. “There wouldn’t have been any…”
I drift off, remembering the security cameras at the pool.
As soon as I’d dried off and gotten dressed again, I went down to security and ordered them to delete the footage. But they’d all seen it. It was too late to hide. All it would’ve taken was for one of them to start the rumor mill, and that could be the final piece of evidence that anyone needed to follow the trail.
I thought I’d cleaned house pretty well after I fired Mike Morgan, but maybe not.
“Um, newsflash, everyone knew. With or without concrete evidence.” Kara’s silent for a few moments. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I reply, bitterly.
She sighs sharply. “I’m sorry, Adrian. I’m not half as bad as you think I am, but I know I wasn’t exactly…professional. And I’m sorry about that. It was a bad time in my life. I know that doesn’t make up for the way I acted, but you know that’s not me - you wouldn’t have hired me if that was how I acted. If you need somebody to stand up for you in court, just say the word. I’ll be there. It’s the least I can do.”
Well, that one surprises me.
“Thanks,” I tell her.
We say our awkward goodbyes and hang up, with my mind still racing. I don’t know what her true motives are for extending the olive branch, but I’ve got a pretty good guess. Most people can’t stay mad at me for long, on account of my wallet. Although she was always shrewd, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t actually intend to ruin me as a character witness. She’s not that stupid. It’s too risky to make that kind of move against someone who’s as powerful as I am. Mike Morgan, on the o
ther hand, is both stupid and vain. He thinks he can go against me and win, at least in the court of public opinion, which is all he cares about.
He’s wrong.
I haven’t dared to log onto my social media accounts, or check my author email. I know the rabid fans, the ones who supported me through the reveal that “Natalie McBride” was really Adrian Risinger, will stand by me. They always do. But for everyone else, a scandal of this magnitude of ridiculousness threatens to overshadow me and my books. They say there’s “no such thing as bad publicity,” but just ask anyone with a scandal a few months, a few years after it blows over. A scandal turns you into a one-trick pony.
Gnawing mindlessly on my lower lip, I pick up my phone again and call Meg.
“Quick question,” I say, over a chorus of unhappy caterwauling. “If you had access to all the financials at RI, do you think you’d be able to trace Natalie McBride’s books back to me?”
She’s silent for a moment, thinking. “Aren’t you overcomplicating things? Kara…”
“Just answer the question.”
“I don’t know.” She sounds annoyed. “Why are you asking me, of all people?”
“Because you’d know better than I would, and I can’t figure out who else I could trust.”
“I mean…maybe. How well did you cover your tracks? Did you draw royalties through an agency or something and have them cut you a check, so there was at least some kind of buffer there?”
And this is why she should’ve been CEO, not me.
“Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that I didn’t.”
She sighs. “Ryn, are you serious? So you just…funneled it right to one of your own accounts?”
“I didn’t think anyone would be looking!” I reply, defensively. “I mean, why would they?”
“There’s like, a million reasons!” I can picture her throwing up her hands. “Any kind of financial audit. Or any crazy person in the company who wants to fuck with you. That’s the first place anybody would go, if they wanted to take you down. It’s the most obvious place for corruption in any company. They’d probably expect to find you laundering money or setting up illegal tax shelters or something - certainly not writing romance novels - but you must’ve known you had a vulnerability there.”
His Secretary: Undone and Unveiled (The Complete Series Collection) Page 36