Offensive Behavior (Sidelined #1)

by Ainslie Paton

  “Just often enough you were a liability.”

  “I know you think that. You’re wrong.”

  “If I thought you could change I’d have done this differently. I met your date. Dev did the honors. She’s a lovely girl. Brains as well as beauty. I’m pleased for you. But she doesn’t know you weren’t invited.”

  Did she know now?

  “I didn’t enlighten her. You might do me the courtesy of enlightening me on what your game plan here is.”

  “I spent my whole adult life on Plus. I’ve been out for less than three months. This is my night as much as it’s yours.”

  Adnan smiled at someone over Reid’s shoulder then his eyes came back to Reid’s, no more light in them. “Perhaps. But it’s never that simple with you. Tread carefully. It will be more embarrassing to you than me if I have you removed tonight.”

  And Kuch was gone, into the crowd of mostly staff, stockholders and strategic partners and Reid was free to go to Zarley. But he paused, a flashback of all the times he’d been forced to attend functions like this and sit beside bickering couples. The men never paid enough attention, the woman were bored and wanted to be entertained, the business was necessary but tedious. He’d never bothered to take a date other than Sarina who knew the score. Why hadn’t he remembered that?

  Because he was so smitten with Zarley he didn’t want to spend the night without her. And he wanted to show her off like she was a trophy he’d won. There was something sick about that. It wasn’t a mature adult response, that’s for sure.

  He slipped into the chair beside her as the appetizer was being brought to the table. “I’m sorry.” He put a hand to her forearm. “I should’ve realized this would be no fun for you and come by myself.”

  She pulled a face, so at odds with her loveliness he laughed. “Are you kidding? I knew it would be something like this. You’re the prodigal son, you were going to cause eyebrows to wag. I didn’t think you’d be pasted to my side.”

  He blinked at her. Not sure he’d heard her correctly over the hubbub of the room. He leaned in closer and she put her hand to his face. “Don’t look so worried. Dev looked out for me, it’s all good.”

  He caught her hand in his. The tight strain in his chest eased a little. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Got that right, Back Booth,” she sassed. “But you’ve got me.”

  Not for much longer if he kept thinking like an immature boy around her, if Owen was right, and he couldn’t keep his asshole in check where Zarley was concerned. Owen was often right. A tap to his shoulder. John Handy, a journalist he’d rather not talk to but couldn’t avoid.

  “Reid, surprised to see you here. Excuse me,” John said to Zarley, ogling her.

  Reid stood and put himself behind Zarley’s chair to block the guy’s sight, and they had an awkward discussion about why Reid was in the room and what he was doing post Plus.

  On the table his appetizer waited while a group of programmers pounced on him. They were full of righteous indignation at how he’d been treated and he knew, he knew, to the twist in his gut, that was bad for him to hear, that he needed to remember there were people in the room who he’d treated poorly, shouted at and belittled, who had a legitimate reason to despise him above and beyond basic jealousy.

  When he sat down again, the main course had been served and Zarley reached for his hand under the table. “Are you doing okay?”

  She was some kind of witch. “Do I look like I’m not?” He couldn’t afford to look like he was off kilter if the rest of his plan was going to run true, and he was tense from all the smiling and nicely neutral conversation he’d had to make.

  “You look exceptionally handsome. Maybe not as handsome as Adnan. Whoa, for an older guy, he’s hot, and you’re not as cute as Dev, but I still have a thing for you.”

  “I have such a thing for you, it needs—”

  “Reid, heard you were here. Sly dog, and who’s this?”

  He was going to say their thing deserved an upgrade to something more serious. It wasn’t a one-night stand that spilled over, or fling, or an affair, he wanted it to be a relationship, but what did he know about that and he had to talk to this wanker banker before he could get that clear.

  He introduced Zarley, who stood with him, to McKenzie Whitmore and then wanted to pound the man’s face for the way he looked her over. Whitmore was on his third wife, she was younger than his eldest daughter. He was sniffing around to see what Reid planned next. It was flattering. When Reid’d first tried to get finance, men like Whitmore with their own investment funds refused to take his calls.

  But what was better was Zarley’s arm around his waist, the pressure of her body as she leaned into him, knowing her eyes were on him as he and Whitmore talked investment finance scuttlebutt and Silicon Valley rumors, and that she was doing it so Whitmore knew exactly where her loyalties lay.

  Fuck, she was wonderful. In a room full of women on whom no expense to look good was spared, Zarley was the only one he wanted to be with. He’d do what he needed to do and get her out of here so he could make this lousy night up to her.

  By the time they got to eat the chicken was rubbery and the steak was cold and before he got two bites chewed, Nerida bobbed down between him and Zarley.

  “Hi, I’m Nerida,” she said to Zarley, and to Reid, “If you really want to do this, come with me now and remember what I said about a reference.”

  He caught Zarley watching him. “Save dessert for me.” He got up and followed Nerida.

  Halfway to the stage Owen nabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m not going to embarrass you. I’m having a say about the company I founded on the occasion of its tenth anniversary.”

  “Not a good idea.”

  “You’re causing a scene.”

  Owen threw his arm over Reid’s shoulder. “Nothing to look at here, just two old friends shooting the breeze.” He faked a laugh. He was a terrible faker. “Don’t do it, man.”

  Reid brushed Owen’s arm away. Kuch tried to catch his eye, Sarina stood in the middle of the room and walked toward him. He went to the stage and stood behind the podium and no one could stop him.

  He looked out at five hundred or more faces turned expectantly at him.

  “Hi, I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves. In case we haven’t met, I’m Reid McGrath. I used to run this show.” He had to stop to let a quick round of applause die down. There wasn’t anyone in the room who didn’t know he was no longer a Plus employee. The official lie was that he was exploring new opportunities; the sacked for being impossible to work for interpretation was far more intriguing.

  “Thank you. I founded Plus in the wilds of my dorm room, ten years ago, where I met Owen, Sarina, and Dev. It seems like yesterday we thought a pizza with extra garlic bread delivered was the best thing ever. Later I convinced Kuch to lend a scrappy start-up his good name which makes me the first little shit—”

  “Not so little,” someone heckled.

  He paused for the laughter, “To pull the wool over the great Kuch’s eyes. He’s been slipping for years, I tell you, years.”

  A second burst of laughter allowed him to take a breath. So far he hadn’t offended anyone and Kuch was so well respected it would only enhance his image to have it showcased tonight. He told another joke about their early days and current Plus employees roared their approval with considerable catcalling.

  Feeling confident, he searched for Zarley’s face in the crowd and found it. She knew she had his eyes. She blew him a kiss. Then he lit the fuse. He told everyone how important continued innovation was, how the market was intensely competitive, how project Ziggurat was designed to address the rapid changes in technology and would protect Plus’ revenues and make sure it continued to be a great place to work.

  And then he said the one thing he’d come to say that would make an impact. “Success is as much about ideas as it is about execution. What gives me nightmares is that you might fail to implement Z
iggurat as well as you’re going to need to.”

  There was a subtle shift in the attention of the room, a rustle of clothing as people moved about. He laughed into the microphone. “I’m probably being a little shit again and worrying needlessly you’ve all got it under control. I look forward to watching Owen and the team prove my fears are groundless.” There was some nervous laughter, then he thanked people for their time and attention and wished them a goodnight to another round of clapping.

  But it wasn’t as simple as that. He passed Owen on the stairs to the podium. Owen looked at him like someone had died. He’d expected a headlock or foul language at least.

  He’d turned an unnecessary spotlight on Owen’s leadership and Plus’ strategy, ensured the share price wobbled, and made sure every investor in the room was questioning why he wasn’t still in control.

  He was fighting for what he knew was right the best way he knew how. He was getting his job back.

  But he didn’t expect what Dev did.

  Dev was waiting for him at the side of the stage. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” Reid wanted to listen to Owen. Knew he’d alter whatever he was going to say to respond to the challenge Reid’d laid down.

  Dev stepped in front of him. “You don’t need to listen to Owen. It doesn’t matter what he says. He can’t win after what you did. You’re the moral authority in this room. Everyone will take what you say as the truth. You just killed our chances of getting Ziggy up and running without the most intense scrutiny. But that’s not what matters. It’s what you did to yourself.”

  He looked over Dev’s head at the stage. “I’m getting back in, Dev. We’ll run it all together again.”

  “No, that’s not how it’s going to go. You just proved me wrong.”

  Owen was doing a roll call of thanks. “About what?”

  “I argued with Owen, with Kuch, with anyone who’d listen that it was wrong to push you out, that you could change, you could learn to respect other people and listen to them, make more collaborative decisions. Use your genius for good.”

  He forgot Owen and focused on Dev. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “What was the point. I lost, no one believed me. And now you did this. You proved you can’t change, that you’re a bully, a superior, disrespectful dickhead. I’ve been your friend since college. I’ve cooked you thousands of meals. I’ve stood beside you and behind you and I’ve loved it all.” Dev broke eye contact and looked at his tennis shoes. “I loved you, shit that you are. My life was better because you were in it.”

  Holy fuck, what was this? “Dev, I didn’t—”

  “Shut up, Reid. You broke something in me. I’m done with you. And I’m ashamed to call you my friend.”

  “Dev, I’m.” He wasn’t sorry for what he’d done but he didn’t know Dev would be affected that way. Thought he’d understand, be the first one to backslap him. “I’m. I didn’t . . .” But Dev was gone, making his way to the elevators, almost at a run. Reid started after him but was waylaid by a white-faced and furious Kuch on his way to the stage. Kuch headed straight toward him, then cut him at the last moment in an obvious show of disrespect, but all Reid cared about was getting to Dev before he left the hotel.

  Sarina got there first. She took Dev’s arm. She was crying, black smudges from her makeup giving her Panda eyes.

  “Leave it alone, Reid. You’ve done enough damage,” she said.

  “Dev, please, let me explain.”

  Dev turned, his hand on elevator call button. “I don’t want your explanation. I’m sure it makes perfect sense to you. I’m sure you’re convinced it was the right thing to do, but it was still an asshole act so I don’t even want to hear your voice. Tell Zarley it was nice to meet her.” The elevator pinged and the door opened. Dev stepped in and Sarina followed. “Have a great life,” Dev said as the door closed, and they were gone.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. Reid pumped the call button and eyed the stairs. Should he try to catch them, make them listen, but he’d left Zarley again. They’d come back, they wouldn’t leave the function. Dev had never spoken to him like that and Reid had never, not once, made Sarina cry.

  He knew they’d hate this, but didn’t think it would affect him. He felt this in his body like it was poison slowly leaking into his vital organs.

  He went back to the table. He avoided eye contact with anyone. His brain was spinning and he couldn’t get it to settle. Kuch was leading a round of toasts. He arrived in time for everyone to stand, for a glass of champagne to be shoved in his hand. He had to drink a toast to himself when he’d rather take a knife to his throat.

  Zarley leaned in to his shoulder and whispered, “Something went wrong.”

  He put his empty glass down and snatched her hand. “Let me show you the sculptures.”

  He pulled her through the room, walking too fast, weaving in out of the tables, and groups of people retaking their seats, keeping his eyes on the staircase to the gallery where the exhibition was. He didn’t look left or right and no one dared stop him. He took the stairs at a gallop, dragging on Zarley’s hand. She called his name, tried to slow him up, but he needed to get out of the room, away from all the eyes on him.

  They arrived on the gallery floor, surprising a couple necking, who laughingly parted and moved downstairs. There was another group here, two women and a man. Reid didn’t know them, didn’t care. He sent them a stare that made one of the women put a hand to her throat.

  Zarley held onto his arm. “What happened?” She was still holding the skirt of her dress in her other hand.

  He’d learned the true meaning of asshole. He’d learned it at the expense of the best friends he’d ever had, the only true friends. He’d screwed his life up and theirs. He’d never been so right and so wrong at the same time. Even if he got Plus back into his control, he’d lost the best thing about it.

  He dragged Zarley across the other side of the gallery away from the sightseers. He pulled her into his arms and spoke into her ear. “I fucked my life, my friends, everything, I fucked everything up.”

  She put her hands to his chest. “You spoke well, it seemed fine to me. I don’t understand.”

  He stepped away, shot a glance over his shoulder. The others had moved toward the staircase. “You can’t understand, you can’t.” He was too loud. “I told that whole room I had no faith in Owen or Kuch, in any of them.” He stopped and tried to rein his temper in, to find a way to explain it to her. “I stood in front of my whole company and told them they were C-grade without me. That’s what I did. Just like I did to you. I proved how entitled and arrogant, how much of an unchecked asshole I am.” He was shouting. He took another step away from Zarley and noticed the other group had gone.

  “Getting canned taught me nothing. It’s my fucking ego. Because I don’t like to lose, because I’m always right, and I couldn’t see it as a setback.” His head was going to explode. “Fuck.”

  She stared at him with big wide eyes. She was so beautiful, so miraculously in his life when he’d needed someone beside him, and he’d fucked it up with her too.

  “You should leave. You’re fucking wasting your time with me. I’ll call the car for you.”

  She put her hands up and walked to him. “Reid, take a breath.”

  “It was great, our thing. I had no idea it could be like that. Best thing that ever happened to me was you.”

  He took her hands and yanked her into his body. He kissed her, hard. He expected her to push him away. He’d have welcomed a slap. She held onto his shoulders and kissed him back.

  All the rage he felt, all the savage hatred of the small man he’d revealed himself to be, bubbled up and poured out of him, turned his arms to a steel cage around her, his lips into weapons assaulting her skin. “Go, Flygirl. Run before I hurt you worse.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “I’m not in control. I want to fuck you right here. Let them see me fuck you, like I fucked with them.”

  She would scre
am rape, she’d blacken his eye before it happened. She’d fly away and he’d be alone again.

  She put her hands in his hair and pulled his head down, looked him in the eye and said, “Now you know failure.” His knees buckled, but she held on to him. “I won’t leave you. This is the reason I’m here. I want you. Do it.”

  He crashed into her mouth, hands in her hair, pulling at it to release it from the pins holding it. He backed her into an archway. He palmed the strap of the dress off her shoulder and pulled it down, down, till her breast popped free, and his mouth went there, tongue flicking, sucking tight, forcing a moan from her. Anyone could look up and see them, come up the stairs and catch them. Let them. He gathered her dress in his arms, drawing it up her legs. She was naked underneath it and he hadn’t guessed. He was self-destructing and she was pulling at his shirt, undoing his belt, she was exploding apart with him.

  He found her wet, and she rocked into his fingers as beneath them the band started up. People would be dancing. He didn’t dance so Dev would’ve asked Zarley to, would’ve teased Reid about it, later, would’ve put his hands on her gently, and made her laugh. Owen would’ve cut in, would’ve charmed her and Reid would’ve hated it, burned for it. But that’s what she deserved, someone like Dev or Owen, someone smoother, gentler and experienced. Someone with enough emotional intelligence to understand his effect on others, and never, never hurt the ones he loved.

  Zarley would leave him and his failure would be complete, but he would have her now, this one last time. He hitched her leg to his hip, she curved against him and he entered her on a single thrust with a shout he couldn’t contain and lightning strikes inside his eyes.

  TWENTY

  Reid was a storm of destructive emotion and Zarley was the land he broke over. She gathered all his panic, shame, guilt, and the sharp pain of his sudden awareness and took them into her body so he couldn’t use them to hurt himself. Because she was strong, and in this, he was freshly scored, and lashing out with misdirected fury. He was already wounded and she understood the shock of engineering your own downfall and what it meant to become unanchored because of it.