Matched

by Kelli Ireland

  “No.”

  “Then I don’t know how he’d know. But, Rachel, even though Tom drafted the order, Jim assumed you would call back or at least come in this weekend, so he listed you as the attorney of record on Friday’s filing. If Quantum Ventures’ legal department knows, or if he told them...”

  “They would have filed a countermotion to have me removed from the case.”

  There were four things that Rachel was certain of just then.

  First: her boss knew where she’d been.

  Second: he knew whom she’d been with.

  Third: what had been the best weekend of her life was almost certainly going to cost her the career she’d fought so hard for.

  Fourth: Isaac Miller, the man she’d begun to fall for, believed she had betrayed him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “WHAT THE HELL were you thinking, Jonathan?” Isaac rarely raised his voice, but the breach in his emotional dam—that Rachel had created—had grown. Continued to grow, in fact, and he found himself unable to rein in his temper. “What you did? It’s beyond irresponsible. It easily qualifies as flat stupid!”

  Jonathan sat slouched in the same chair he always chose when he came to Isaac’s office, a hangdog look on his face. “I’m telling you, Isaac. I asked her if she was clear to work for us and she said yes. What else was I supposed to do?”

  “What...else...” For a second, Isaac thought he might rupture a vessel, perhaps develop an aneurysm and collapse where he stood. When that didn’t happen, he began to pace. Back and forth in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows, repeatedly shoving his hands through his hair. Grabbing fistfuls at the crown. Pulling until he thought he might yank himself bald. Spinning to face his brother, he forced his hands to his sides. “What else should you have done? Tell me you aren’t serious.”

  “We did the in-depth preemployment background check we do on all employees. Shit like noncompetes don’t show up on those reports, Isaac. The most I can do is ask. If someone lies, I have no way of knowing.”

  Scrubbing his hands over his face, Isaac tried to slow his breathing. “Your human resources department should have called her former employer and asked for references. That person should have asked if there were any legally binding agreements in force that would prevent her from working for the competition.”

  “Part of her condition of employment was that we didn’t contact her current employer for a reference. She said she didn’t want them to know she was looking for another job. Happens all the time, so HR didn’t think anything of it.”

  He closed his eyes and counted. First to ten and, when that didn’t work, to twenty. Then he looked at his brother and forced himself to remember that the kid was, in fact, brilliant. And more often than not, brilliant minds did not come equipped with add-on faculties like common sense. Case in point.

  Sighing, he dropped into his chair. “We’re in a hell of a mess, Jonathan. Our investors are furious and they, and their lawyers, have been bombarding us with questions we can’t yet answer. Our legal department is scrambling to figure out how to salvage something, anything, in relation to this project so that we don’t lose millions. Millions. And our best efforts may be irrelevant as the entire project appears to be going tits-up thanks to social media. Quantum Ventures’ reputation for ethical business practices is, as we speak, dissolving like sugar cubes left on the sidewalk during a monsoon.”

  Jonathan sat forward and rested his forearms on his knees, hands dangling, chin tucked to his chest. “I’m sorry, Isaac. I’m good at ideas. I’m great at execution. It’s the other stuff that trips me up.”

  “Yeah, it does.” No point softening the truth.

  Or so he thought until Jonathan looked up, eyes wide, face pale as fresh milk. “I’ll pull the project.”

  “It’s not that simple, Jonathan. We have to answer the legal complaint, prove we’ve stopped work as ordered by the judge and figure out how we recoup the money we’ve invested so that those financial backers I mentioned don’t jump ship and take their money elsewhere.”

  “How do I make this right?”

  He thought about what to say, thought about telling Jonathan that they were so far up shit creek that a paddle was pointless and even an eight-cylinder outboard motor would likely do them no good. But the kid was a mess, and all Isaac had done was add to his stress.

  It wasn’t his fault that, on the inside, Isaac was a bigger mess than the developing corporate calamity. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night, his mind awash in weekend memories, his body craving one woman’s touch, his heart feeling odd in her absence. Texting her at 3:42 a.m. had been foolish. But as he sat in the dark, empty highball glass dangling from his fingers, mind softened by alcohol, he had realized he was falling in love with Rachel. More the fool was he. He just thanked God he hadn’t said as much in his text.

  Then there was the other truth of the matter, particularly as it related to Jonathan. Isaac couldn’t deny that he, himself, was more to blame for this debacle than Jonathan. As Quantum Ventures’ CEO, he should have been more careful in the application stage. He should have thoroughly vetted the senior members of Caffeinated Brainiacs’ development team. He should have had his legal team confirm there weren’t any noncompetes in play, particularly with those senior team members. And he should have ensured that every i was dotted and every t crossed instead of assuming someone from Caffeinated Brainiacs would handle the finer details. Bottom line? Isaac had handled Jonathan more like an indulgent older brother than the renowned capital-venture expert he was.

  But what was done, was done.

  Now? He could shout, stomp, point fingers, terminate contracts and even terminate people, but it wouldn’t change the truth. Isaac could blame no one but himself.

  He was searching for the right words to convey that singular truth when his phone chirped, the sound soft and unobtrusive. The caller ID flashed an internal extension belonging to the head of Quantum Ventures’ legal department, Ben King.

  Mustering every ounce of control he possessed, Isaac picked up the phone and greeted the other man with a facade of calm confidence. “Hey, Ben. I’d tell you to give me the good news, but I know better if you’re phoning rather than delivering it in person.”

  Ben chuckled. “No worries. I’m a lawyer. It’s part and parcel of my job description. ‘Deliver bad news succinctly and from a distance.’ I’m just sorry to say it’s definitely bad news.”

  Isaac turned away from Jonathan, not sure he could keep his worried expression out of his brother’s line of sight. “Might as well lay it out there, then.”

  Ben didn’t mince words. “Taylor, Lord and Mitchum, the firm representing Date Me, intends to file suit for patent infringement and intellectual-property theft, and they’re not only naming Caffeinated Brainiacs, but they’re also going after Quantum Ventures.”

  Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not surprised.”

  “They’re filing in federal court.”

  His stomach dropped. “I’d like to revise my answer.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “What does that mean for us, Ben?”

  “It means a hell of a lot of media coverage. They’re seeking an injunction that would halt any and all work related to the development of Power Match as well as financial remedies for damages done and claims made by the psychologist, Jaline Harkins, alleging the inferiority of the Date Me app when compared to Power Match.”

  “They’re built on similar software platforms,” Isaac said through gritted teeth. “If she said Date Me sucks, she’s implying Power Match sucks, as well.”

  “Not necessarily. Date Me’s parent corporation, Clockwork Machinations, could be entitled to damages for defamation, loss of investor faith and damage done to public opinion. Jaline was a highly disgruntled employee, and she’s been running her mouth and giving interviews without the knowledg
e or consent of Brainiacs’ senior management. She acknowledged as much when I questioned her this morning. But it doesn’t matter. Legally, we’re on the hook.”

  “What are we talking about in dollar figures, Ben?”

  “Easily seven figures if we settle. Likely eight if we go to court.”

  Swiveling his chair, Isaac moved the mouthpiece away and focused on Jonathan. “Has Jaline Harkins been terminated?”

  “No.”

  “Do it. Now. Tell her Legal will be contacting her with a termination agreement.”

  “I’ll get it done and have the draft to you this afternoon,” Ben promised.

  “The Power Match project is shut down, effective immediately.” He knew Quantum Ventures would take a huge loss, but there was no other choice. The liability Quantum Ventures was exposed to was enormous, significant enough to negatively affect their stock values as well as business expansion and profitability over the next five to ten years. “This has to be done if you have any hope of salvaging Caffeinated Brainiacs’ future, Jonathan.”

  “I get it.” His little brother stood, dug his cell out of his jeans pocket and held up the phone. “I’ll just go out in the hall.”

  “Use the conference room. Better to do it as privately as possible. Even my people talk.”

  Jonathan gave a single nod and left the room.

  Isaac returned his attention to the attorney. “Ben, make sure that the termination agreement does not offer her a damn dime in severance. She’s lucky we aren’t pressing charges. If she balks at all, tell her I’ll put everything I have into making sure she can’t even get a job dumping slop buckets on a pig farm.”

  “Remind me to never piss you off.”

  “I shouldn’t have to.”

  “I can always count on you to tell it like it is. And, Isaac?” He waited until Isaac hummed with irritation. “I think we need to be proactive—go to plaintiff’s counsel, tell them everything we’re doing to resolve the issue and offer a private settlement. Include an airtight nondisclosure so the numbers are private, but we should make a good-faith effort to intercede before filing our response.”

  “Do you think they’re willing to negotiate?”

  “It can’t hurt to at least propose settlement, include some public statements from Quantum Ventures that make it clear we didn’t intend to cause Date Me any harm. Point out that they’re a good service—good enough we thought they were worth competing with.”

  “Run the numbers and let me know what we’re talking about, but go ahead and see if they’re willing to meet. I don’t have to tell you to do what you can to make this go away, Ben.”

  “No, sir, you don’t.”

  “Get me a solid settlement figure as well as talking points at least two hours before we meet. I’ll want to go over them with you and discuss strategy so we’re on the same page in there. You and me. No one else from legal.”

  “You think that’s wise?”

  “Unless you tell me it’s a dumb-ass move, that’s my plan. Appear as confident and in control as possible. Don’t give them even a crumb of proof this shit is shaking the foundation of Quantum Ventures.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How soon can you make this happen?”

  “If they agree? I can try to get a meeting today.”

  “Whatever it takes, do it.” And he hung up.

  Leaning back in his chair, he locked his hands behind his head and propped his feet on the corner of his desk. Anyone who saw him would think he had everything under control. Superficially, he might. But he still had one huge problem to deal with. He was going to have to sit across the table from the attorney listed on the injunction, the attorney who had warmed his bed right before she sold him out for an office with a better view.

  Rachel Sullivan.

  * * *

  The cabbie pulled up to the front of her office. “Twenty-seven even.”

  She handed him thirty and got out, standing on the sidewalk and staring up at the glass-and-chrome high-rise. Her future, or what was left of it, waited beyond those doors.

  She crossed to the revolving door and was in the process of entering the lobby when a single idea settled at the forefront of her mind.

  What if this was all a bunch of smoke and mirrors?

  Isaac had all the information on Caffeinated Brainiacs. He must have had an employee roster. Wouldn’t he have questioned the psychologist’s credentials and work history prior to agreeing to fund the app’s development? Theoretically he would have had access to all the candidates’ applications...including hers. What if he had selected her knowing her firm had represented Date Me in previous filings, from the initial patent to the lawsuits corporations of its size were always involved with? He could’ve easily used his access to Power Match’s information to single her out and ensure that any suit brought forward was compromised.

  But how could he have known you would be the one tapped to represent Date Me? her subconscious whispered.

  She ignored logic and embraced fury. Anger, so long as she managed it, would carry her much further than fear and its inherent weaknesses.

  Whatever happened, she wasn’t going to let someone, boss or lover, browbeat her over something she had possessed no knowledge of. Period.

  No man had the right to play her like a pawn on a chessboard. She had lived that life, suffered for it and she was done with it. Never again would she be any man’s pawn. If she was anything, she was a queen.

  And it was about damn time the other players on the board realized it.

  She headed straight to Jim’s office, where she tried to explain her actions. Jim wasn’t as sympathetic as she might’ve hoped. Once she’d finished speaking, he made a call, stood and directed her to the elevators. They rode up in silence, exiting on the top floor.

  Rachel followed Jim to a large conference room she’d never seen before. A long mahogany table gleamed under unobtrusive lighting. There were only two unoccupied chairs on their side of the table. Across the massive expanse, perfectly centered and sitting shoulder to shoulder, were three older men, all of whom Rachel recognized: Andrew Taylor, Christopher Lord and Bradley Mitchum. They were the founders of what had become one of the most prestigious corporate law firms on the East Coast.

  Jim sat down without looking at her, pulled out his pen and shuffled through his papers over and over, reorganizing them to the point his every action seemed absurd.

  Rachel had a moment of stark clarity that struck so suddenly she almost laughed out loud.

  Jim had always espoused teamwork and team values, claiming he would fight for any member of his team under any circumstance if they were in the right. Rachel had been honest with him. She’d done her best to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that she hadn’t been in the wrong for what had occurred outside the office, in her private life, without knowledge of the brewing conflict. She knew now that every word she had uttered had been irrelevant—nothing more than wasted breath. Jim wasn’t the man she had come to respect over the last seven years because he wasn’t the man she had believed him to be. Looking at him now, she knew with absolute certainty that he wasn’t here to defend her. He was here for the opportunity to distance himself from whatever she was deemed guilty of. And, on the off chance she salvaged what was left of her career, he would be there to stand up and act like he had believed in her all along. In the end, he would do whatever was required to save his ass.

  Rachel was on her own.

  Andrew Taylor gestured toward the plush chair clearly reserved for her. “Have a seat, Miss Sullivan.”

  “Sir.” She sat and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap. She’d brought nothing with her. No cell phone, pad of paper, pen. Nothing. So she would sit and answer their questions respectfully unless—and until—they gave her reason to do otherwise.

  Christopher Lord leaned forward, rested his forear
ms on the table and laced his fingers together. “I’m sure you know why we’ve asked to speak to you, Miss Sullivan.”

  “I believe it has to do with how I spent my weekend, sir.”

  Christopher Lord’s brow furrowed, his heavy jowls wobbling as he sharply enunciated every syllable. “Not only how, Miss Sullivan, but with whom.”

  She inclined her head in acknowledgment. No way was she going to roll over and give them her belly. Absolutely not. The only information they would get from her would be answers to questions she deemed relevant to her position within the firm. The rest of it was none of their damn business, no matter how furious she was with Isaac.

  “It has been brought to our attention that you took a trip with the CEO of Quantum Ventures, a company against whom a prominent client of our firm has asked us to file suit.”

  Again, she inclined her head.

  “Please respond verbally, Miss Sullivan.”

  The nape of her neck prickled with unease. “May I ask why, Mr. Lord?”

  “For clarity’s sake.”

  “Was my nod of acknowledgment not understandable?”

  “For God’s sake, Rachel, just answer out loud,” Jim snarled under his breath.

  “Certainly,” she said, her voice so arctic she was surprised it didn’t condense on the air. “When I understand why.”

  Christopher Lord’s face flushed. “Because I’ve asked you to, young lady.”

  Like that, was it?

  She met his gaze head-on. She didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. “Am I being recorded, sir?”

  Bradley Mitchum jotted down a short note on his legal pad before unbuttoning the single button on his suit coat and crossing his arms. “This needn’t be a hostile interview if you don’t wish it to be, Miss Sullivan.”

  In other words, if she played nice and answered the men’s questions, they’d pat her on the head and maybe allow her to keep her job.

  Nope. All kinds of nope happening here.

  She waited, and Mitchum gave her a patronizing smile. “Did you or did you not spend the weekend with Isaac Miller, CEO of Quantum Ventures, the primary defendant in an injunction your immediate supervisor directed you to file last Friday, October seventeenth?”