His Secretary: Undone and Unveiled (The Complete Series Collection)

by Melanie Marchande

  Then she smiles a little, and this time it’s sort of genuine.

  “I’m sorry,” I manage, at last, taking a deep breath. “I just…you’re so full of shit.”

  Kara folds her arms across her chest, shaking her head. “You’re not making this easy, you know. You want me to be honest? I can just repeat what we both already know. I wanted him, but I knew he was out of reach from the start. Because of you. Of course I resented you, I was petty…you know how he is. He makes you feel like the only person in the room, for better or for worse, every time he talks to you - it’s hard not to fall for him, a little bit.”

  She sighs. “But I would never - I would never have done anything to hurt his career. After everything I put into it, there’s no way I’d orchestrate that kind of sabotage just because I was upset about you two. He thought it was me, and once I got over feeling offended by it, I realized why. I’d badgered him to tell me if he was in love with you, and he finally admitted it…then afterwards, the truth came out. I swear it was a coincidence, but I know how it looks. Because I acted completely insane when I was working for him. He…he just exudes insanity pheromones.”

  I smirk. “That’s a way to put it.”

  “But it was my fault,” she says, quickly. “I don’t mean to say I’m not responsible for the way I behaved. It’s not like me - I was grieving - but that’s not an excuse either.”

  “Oh.” I shift my weight uncomfortably. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t…I mean, thanks,” she says, clearing her throat. “But I didn’t…I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. It was extremely junior high.” She lets out a puff of air. “Well, this isn’t going how I hoped.”

  “It’s fine,” I assure her. “You’re actually talking to me like a human being. I appreciate it.”

  “Yeah,” she says, with a sort of wistful little laugh. “I think I never wanted to before, because I was afraid I’d find out that Adrian was right. You’re just too sweet of a person to stay mad at.”

  “Um, I don’t know about that.” My cheeks are starting to burn, which is less than ideal for this situation. Why the hell am I mad at him, again? Why have we been at each other’s throats because somebody else is trying to tear us apart?

  “Oh, you should’ve heard the things he said about you.” She sort of half-grins. “It was sickening.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, slowly. “I think?”

  “You’re very lucky,” she says. “And it was my cat, by the way.”

  It takes me a second to catch up.

  “Oh. Oh.” She means it was her cat that she was grieving for. I feel a pang of sympathy in my chest. “Damn. I’m…I’m really sorry about that.”

  “See, most people would roll their eyes at the crazy cat lady,” she says. “Meg, trust me - I’m only here to help. That’s all I want. After this, I’m going to back the fuck off. Adrian’s not healthy for me. I don’t know exactly what you two have going on, but it clearly works. And I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

  Something about Kara’s bearing tells me she’s been deposed before. She looks more relaxed and composed than the average person does in a job interview. They go through the usual questions, and she answers clearly and concisely.

  “So,” the lawyer says, after he’s finished scribbling some notes. “Can you tell me about why you and Mr. Risinger parted ways professionally?”

  This is the only thing that gives her pause.

  “I remind you, Ms. Fishbach, that you are under oath,” he says, smugly.

  Bob glares at him.

  “We stopped working together for personal reasons,” she says.

  Bob looks like someone just walked over his grave.

  “Can you please explain in more detail?” the opposing lawyer asks.

  “Objection,” Bob snaps. “Irrelevant.”

  “I’m just trying to determine the nature of the relationship between Ms. Fishbach and Mr. Risinger,” says the other lawyer, smoothly. “Ms. Fishbach? I’d rather not subpoena your phone and text records, if I can possibly help it.”

  “Objection,” Bob repeats. “I shouldn’t have to even say this, do not intimidate my witness.”

  Kara clears her throat. “I had an infatuation,” she says. “So it seemed prudent not to work together anymore.”

  “An infatuation with Mr. Risinger?” The lawyer looks gleeful.

  “Yes,” says Kara.

  Bob clears his throat loudly. “I propose a recess.”

  “Fine,” says the other lawyer. “We’ll pick up this line of questioning after a short break.”

  “I don’t think I have to tell you how this looks.” Bob is keeping his cool, but barely. “You could have mentioned…”

  “It’s nothing,” Kara insists. “We never…I swear, it’s nothing.”

  Bob sighs. “The fact that you mentioned it means it’s not nothing.”

  “I wasn’t going to perjure myself,” she snaps.

  “Of course not.” Bob pinches the bridge of his nose. “But now we have two witnesses with a romantic history…”

  “There’s no history!” Kara insists. “It’s totally irrelevant.”

  “You,” says Bob, pointing at her, “get out of here. I’ll tell them you had a family emergency and have to reschedule. Nothing good is going to come out of this.”

  ‘They’re going to know,” she points out. “I’ll get…fined, or something.”

  Bob’s mouth thins. “Trust me. I’m a lawyer. You won’t get fined.” He turns to Adrian. “You. Can you present any character witnesses who have no romantic interest in you?”

  “Of course,” Adrian says, looking offended. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A very pertinent one.” Bob shakes his head. “For now, we’ll just have to fake our way through it. Give me some names that you know will comes through, and I’ll get them off the trail long enough for us to pull something together.”

  I can hardly stand to listen to this anymore.

  The opposing lawyer is smug. He’s almost out-smugging Mike Morgan himself, but not quite. I wonder how they’ve got the man himself to stay so quiet - is he tranquilized?

  “So, given your witness’s…” the lawyer pauses, smiling. “…family emergency, I think that’s all we have, for today. I have to say, I hope the unrequited nature of their relationship doesn’t come up in court. It’s hard for any red-blooded man to imagine ignoring advances from a woman like that…”

  My fists clench in my lap.

  “Of course, she might have more information than she’s revealed so far,” he goes on. “I’ll make sure to reschedule with her…I’m sure she doesn’t want to end up in contempt of court. She must have all kinds of interesting tidbits to share, still.”

  The court stenographer is still tap-tapping away, transcribing every single word. If only I could get Mike Morgan to show his true nature - if I could somehow goad him into acting like the scum I know he really is, all of our worries would be moot.

  Suddenly, in a flash, I remember something.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Do I still have it? Fumbling for my phone, I start scrolling through the screens rapidly, looking for a little-used app that I pray is still functional. How many new phones have I gotten since then? Is it possible that the recording is still here?

  My heart leaps in my chest.

  Thank God for cloud storage.

  “Look, Mike,” I blurt out, abruptly. Everyone stares at me, but I’m not going to shut up until I’ve either saved our asses, or completely ruined everything. “Why don’t you just go ahead and subpoena the security tapes? We all know that’s what you really want to see. The show of the century, right? In the employee pool?”

  Mike’s jaw clenches. It’s the first time anyone other than his lawyer has addressed him directly in these depositions, and he’s clearly not prepared for it.

  “I’m sorry, the witne
sses don’t ask questions in a deposition,” his lawyer cuts in.

  “It’s fine, this is clearly off the record - right?” I glance at the stenographer, who just shrugs. “See? No need to get all weird about it. Mike’s just bitter that he got fired before he had a chance to see the famous tape. But really, you should keep your expectations low. You can hardly see anything in it.”

  The lawyer takes in a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll bite. Mrs. Risinger, what tape are you referring to?”

  “Ask the security guards,” I tell him. “I mean, it’s irrefutable proof that my relationship with the defendant isn’t fake, but that wouldn’t be of any interest here, right?”

  Mike’s gone white as a sheet. His lawyer is a little more composed, because he doesn’t see what angle I’m working. Not yet.

  “That’s hardly the cornerstone of our case,” the lawyer says, frowning. “Are you trying to intimidate us into dropping? Because, I should tell you…”

  “Nope,” I tell him. “But I think it’s worth mentioning that your client is obviously really bitter that I decided to sleep with my boss, instead of him.” I lay my phone on the table, and hit “play.” I’ve scrolled forward to approximately the right point of the voice memo, but there’s a little more lead-up than I anticipated, so for a while, everyone just sits there. Listening to my voice drone on about contracts and provisions.

  “Is there a point to this?” the lawyer demands.

  “Yes,” I promise him. “Just about…now.”

  Hey, sweet cheeks.

  Mike Morgan has murder in his eyes.

  “This is ridiculous!” he blurts out, as the relevant part of the recording ends.

  Bob’s eyebrows go up.

  “This is highly unorthodox,” the other lawyer growls. “And it’s not admissible in court, if the other party wasn’t aware that he was being recorded.”

  At that, Bob actually laughs. “Are you trying to claim that’s not your client? Because that sure sounds like your client.”

  “Also, he knew I was dictating,” I point out.

  “It would have to be analyzed.” The lawyer practically has steam coming out of his ears. “And one incident does not a pattern make…”

  He’s running out of steam. I sit up straighter in my chair, feeling a distinct sense of triumph.

  “I’m inclined to agree that we’re done for today,” says Bob, finally. “I’ll be in touch once we’ve gotten in touch with the other witnesses.”

  As soon as the door clicks behind us, I hear the lawyer shout:

  “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

  We pause in the hallway, and Bob gives me a penetrating stare.

  “As your lawyer,” he says, “I feel like it’s my responsibility to inform you that that was a completely irresponsible and idiotic thing to do.”

  “Watch it,” Adrian warns.

  “It’s fine.” I shrug. “He’s right. But it worked, didn’t it?”

  Bob sighs. “That remains to be seen. But I have to admit, it looks pretty promising. The next time you’re sitting on evidence, you want to let me know about it before you start babbling about sex tapes and sleeping with your boss?”

  Adrian’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, you know, for that matter, why did you bring up the security tape?”

  That’s actually a good question. But oddly enough, I don’t regret it - just for the look on Mike’s face.

  “Because I am wildly irresponsible, and idiotic,” I admit. “I guess this is what happens when I’m pushed far enough.”

  Bob just shakes his head. “Right. Well. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

  He’s still shaking his head when we part ways, out on the sidewalk.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ADRIAN

  When we get into the town car to go home, Meg sits close to me, so our hips touch. Then, she rests her head on my shoulder.

  It still feels like there’s a thousand miles of hurt feelings between us, but this is a step in the right direction.

  Neither of us says anything until we get home. And even then, all I want to do is hold her. Pull her into my arms and never, ever let go. It’s that bizarre paradox, and one I’m all too familiar with - I always want to comfort her, to utterly destroy anyone who’s ever hurt her or ever will. But most of the time, that person is me.

  She almost brushes past me when we get inside, but I capture her wrist and pull her to me. She doesn’t resist, and then her arms circle around me, and she sighs.

  A tension in my chest starts to slowly unwind.

  “I talked to Kara,” she says, finally, her voice slightly muffled against my shirt. “I almost kind of…forgot how crazy you were about me.”

  “That’s probably my fault,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I’ve been so…distracted.”

  “It’s understandable,” she says.

  “I’m not just talking about the lawsuit.”

  “I know.” She holds me tighter. “I did decide to marry a writer.”

  “Still.” I shake my head. “I should never forget how crazy and brilliant you are. I shouldn’t take you for granted.”

  It’s a while before I realize we’re still standing in the entryway like idiots, but I find I don’t really care.

  “You know I love you,” she says, finally, pulling just far enough back to look up at me.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know why.” I brush her hair back from her face, gently. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  She smiles. “It never makes any sense.”

  “Sometimes it does,” I tell her. “Falling for you made all the sense in the world. You were the only person I could depend on, the only one I could really trust. And that’s on top of everything else. I knew you were the dream girl the minute you walked into my office, but I never imagined you’d end up being my best friend. Falling in love was the only logical conclusion.” I keep expecting her to roll her eyes, but she just keeps staring at me. Drinking it all in. I start to wonder if I’ve really said any of this before, or how much of it’s just been living inside my head and my heart. I take a deep breath, and say the one thing that’s been gnawing away at me ever since the first time we kissed:

  “But you…I guess I don’t know what you see in me.”

  The next breath seems to take forever, before she starts to giggle.

  “Seriously? Oh my God. Adrian. Adrian.” She’s laughing through her tears, shaking her head at me. “The last time we talked, you were so mad at me for not seeing my own value. How dense are you?”

  I can feel my ears growing hot. “That’s different,” I insist. “You’re…you. And I’m me.”

  Grinning, she bites her lower lip just slightly. “Do you always get this flustered around pretty girls?”

  “Just you,” I tell her, the heat creeping around the back of my neck, because of course. Of course it is.

  “Ryn, you’re…” She touches the side of my face, shaking her head again. “I mean, where do I start? You’re like a force of nature. I can’t imagine living my life without you in it. I don’t care if we fight sometimes. I don’t care if we fight all the time. I love you, idiot.”

  “You deserve better,” I tell her.

  “Then be better,” she says, looking up at me. “If you really believe that, make it happen. ‘Cause you’re not getting rid of me, no matter how hard you try.”

  Of course.

  She’s asking me to do something hard, something painful, but what kind of husband would I be if I turned my back on it? I need to be better. For her, for the children I want to have with her someday. I need to silence my father’s voice in my head and do what I know is right. I have to stop being afraid of what will happen if I do.

  “I’m trying,” I tell her. “I really am. If you could nudge me in the right direction from time to time, it would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Oh sure, listen to my advice now.” She laughs a little. “I don’t know. Just…this is nice, for now.”

  This, I can do.

&nbs
p; Tom, of the senior partners, is the first to call and congratulate me when word gets around that the lawsuit’s been dropped.

  Of course, I find out about it considerably before that. I wait to tell Meg until she gets home, because I want to see her face. She punches me in the arm when she finds out how long I kept it to myself, then accepts the celebratory champagne I offer, followed by celebratory sex on the kitchen counter that rattles the cabinets.

  Things are, more or less, back to normal.

  “Have you thought about what I told you?” Tom asks me, a few weeks later, once the formalities are dispensed with.

  I tell him that I have, glancing at Meg, puttering around in the kitchen. But I don’t have an answer yet. Everything’s dependent on what she decides to do. As usual, I’m supposed to be one of the most powerful men in the city, and my future is totally dependent on someone in a worn-out “Riot Grrrl” tee-shirt and fuzzy slippers.

  If that’s not poetic justice, then I don’t know what is.

  Because I’ve caught on to something that the senior partners never noticed. Something I never told them, mostly because it didn’t seem like she wanted me to. But when I struggled, she was always there for me. When the senior partners demanded the quarterly report over the weekend, knowing damn well it wouldn’t be ready, she was the only reason I came through. She always looked at everything with fresh eyes, and a sharp intelligence that never failed to impress me. Of course, I couldn’t convince her of that. For her, it was always safer to assume I was being insincere. Every time I pushed her to apply for a promotion, she laughed it off.

  Of course, I’ve come to realize that she didn’t actually want to be away from me. But I might’ve found a way to solve everyone’s problem, in one fell swoop.

  I’ve spent too long living in the past. When I try to imagine what Cora would think of me now, I can’t avoid the realization

  I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and there’s two important questions I need answered first.