Breach of Trust

by Kimber Chin

  "What?” She never discussed any of her post business plan prep plans.

  It turned out Anne didn't have to. “Teach, of course.” Best friends knew these things. “You know you love it."

  "I do.” It would be a big decrease in salary but she could do some consulting on the side to supplement. Anne had her investments also, not that she wanted to dip into them yet, not if she didn't have to. “You think I should?"

  "It's what you were meant to do. Your gift."

  It was. Anne studied her friend's earnest face. All this could be for the best except for ... “I'm going to miss you, Nance.” Anne's eyes teared up and she had to look away. She didn't want to cry. She should be happy for her friend.

  "I'm only a phone call or an e-mail or a long drive away.” Nancy's voice sounded suspiciously muffled also. “You're on vacation. You could visit."

  "Nah, you crazy kids need to enjoy your last months with only the two of you.” Anne smiled half-heartedly. “Besides, once the baby comes, Auntie Annie will visit so often, you'll be sick of me."

  "Never.” Nancy clasped her hand and they held onto each other. “And we'll visit you ... and Philippe?"

  "I hope,” but Anne had only hope riding on that relationship.

  Nance's laugh was shaky. “How's that going, anyway? Do you still think he's a bastard?"

  "Nah, he just plays one on T-V.” Anne glowed as she thought of his softer side. “It's a bad-ass act for business, scares people in submission."

  "I'm not surprised. After he kissed Stanley's hand, I

  had my doubts. And his wandering eye?” A truly concerned friend, Nancy didn't hold anything back.

  "He told me from the start that he was a one car, one house, one woman kind of man."

  "He didn't?” Nancy laughed in wonder.

  "The power of focus, you know.” Anne swirled her hands in magic circles.

  "Okay, Anthony Robbins.” Nancy shook her head. “As long as Philippe's focusing on you."

  "As far as I know, I'm his girl of the moment."

  "A brunette lacking his required double 'D's.” A red eyebrow raised. “You are good at sales."

  "No guts, no glory.” Anne grinned. “Though some of my techniques need a little polish.” She shared her adventures praying to the porcelain gods.

  Nancy's eyes grew wider. “And you're still seeing each other? Ted can't even stand to hear about my morning sickness and he certainly doesn't wipe my face afterwards. He'd hose me down from a distance first."

  Morning sickness, Philippe would be good at that, the morning sickness bit. Anne got a funny feeling when she thought about him and her and pregnancy. Stop it, girl, you're running way too far ahead. First concentrate on seeing him tonight, leave tending to babies to later ... although two would be nice. A little boy and a little girl. Brunettes obviously, not too tall either—

  Stop it!

  "So Nance, could you start on dissolving the partnership?” Anne asked, trying to drag her mind away from the thought of kids. “There won't be that much to do, since it's just you and me."

  Nancy sighed. “I suppose. It seems like the end of an era."

  "Or a beginning of a new, more exciting one,” Anne presented brightly, in spite of the stomach twisting fear.

  This fear she knew. It was the fear Anne felt when she left home for college, knowing no one else on campus. It was the fear she felt when she moved to the very expensive Los Angeles to open her own business, not having a single source of income lined up.

  Yep, it was nothing to be worried about. Fear and

  Anne were old friends.

  * * * *

  Two passion-filled weeks later, fear and Anne had a falling out. Anne wandered in from a long, enjoyable lunch with her sister, Ginny, to find Sylvie hovering like an unpaid bill collector near her office. “Anne, Philippe..."

  "Anne James, get your ass in here,” Philippe bellowed through his open door.

  Anne's head snapped up. She had never heard him use that tone before. It was rude, insulting and the entire floor heard him.

  It also didn't surprise Sylvie, meaning he had been that way for a while. The executive assistant squeezed Anne's arm in support as she passed.

  Anne glowered at Philippe after the door shut behind her. His look far outshone hers, his face dark with a fury she had never seen before.

  Philippe was ticked.

  "Sit the hell down!” His deep voice shook the windows.

  Anne didn't sit. “What the hell is your problem?” she threw back at him. His hair looked like he had raked his hands through it a half dozen times. A bad day? Yep. A reason to curse at her? Nope.

  He felt he had reason. “You. That's what my problem is.” Philippe stood, his whole body shaking. “I knew you were trouble from the first minute I met you. I should have stuck to my original plan."

  "Which was?” She was curious to hear this. Anne had always wanted to know what his master plan was.

  "To squish you like a bug under my foot,” he snarled, “to destroy you, your company, and all you stood for."

  Revenge—that was what he had been after. Ironically, without even trying, Philippe succeeded. Her company was gone, closed, finis, and now it sounded like she was next. Anne sat down and calmly folded her hands. Ignoring Philippe's temper was the best way to drive him crazy. “And what, may I ask, stopped you?"

  Philippe opened his mouth and then closed it again. Whatever it was, he thought better about sharing it. “N'importe, I didn't and that was a mistake, one that I might now rectify."

  "You could try,” Anne dared him. She didn't know what he was so angry about. That didn't stop her from fighting back.

  "Don't tempt me, petite ensorceleuse!” He sat back down with a thump. “I have half a mind to sue your ass off."

  Dang, but that would be ironic. Anne did him a favor by dropping the lawsuit with Bruce, not necessary now that the business was wrapping up, and Philippe turned around to sue them to kingdom come. “On what grounds?"

  "Corporate espionage, intellectual theft, being lower than slime,” Philippe tossed a package into her lap.

  The package, obviously a clue to his temper tantrum. Anne opened it and shuffled through the pages, snaps of web pages from Wedding Pings, a competitor to Denise's company.

  "What am I looking at?” She, no tech genius, was frustrated to not see the cause.

  "You know full well. Look at the third page,” he barked like it would explain everything.

  It did. “Oh, my Lord.” Anne felt faint. She closed her eyes to stop the room from spinning. “Oh, my Lord."

  "Oh, my Lord,” Philippe mimicked, “Don't bother selling little miss innocent to me.” His voice was hard. “I'm not buying."

  He thinks ... oh, my Lord. He thinks I'm responsible. Anne was sick to her stomach. He thought she sold out Denise to the competition, letting them scoop her concept. That he could think that of her. It was too much. She pressed a palm to her throbbing forehead.

  Philippe stared at her with those cold eyes of his.

  Say something, he wanted to scream at her. Tell me that you had nothing to do with it. Give me some proof, something, anything to convince me that you weren't the one to leak the information, information that destroyed a good friend's business.

  Philippe felt the hurt on Denise's face when she approached him. She didn't accuse anyone, not him, not Anne, not his company but he knew that when she gave him the file, she also handed over the responsibility. It wasn't until they touched the business plan that the information was transferred.

  Correction, it wasn't until Anne touched it, until he made it clear that she was on the project until it was settled, that the information got shared. She had been angry. It would destroy her own business. What had she said that first meeting? Holding all the cards left her nothing to bluff with, To win, she'd be forced to cheat. This was cheating. If it wasn't then it was a big coincidence. Smart businessmen didn't believe in coincidences. Philippe didn't believe in coincidenc
es. As much as he wanted to.

  "Explain.” Philippe would give her one more chance. He hadn't told Denise about his suspicions, a part of him refusing to believe it, couldn't believe it, and he wanted Anne to give him a reason, something, anything he could grab onto.

  "You think I did this?” she spat.

  Anne appeared hurt, angry but then, she was a good actress, his little sparrow, she held her emotions close. It made her the best.

  "And why shouldn't I?” Give me a reason, any reason, he begged her with his eyes.

  She wasn't looking at him. There was silence in the room, just the sound of her breath and his breath rushing in and out. And then Philippe realized. She doesn't have a reason. The thought slammed into his stomach, almost doubling him up. This woman, this darling woman whom he trusted so much, that he cared for more than he cared for himself. She had betrayed him. All this time and when it came down to it, she put her own interests first. He should hate her. He should reach out and destroy her like only he could. But it was Anne, and Philippe couldn't. He, for all her awful actions, all her deceit, couldn't bring himself to hurt her.

  "You had better leave.” His voice was now quiet, defeated, hollow.

  "Philippe,” she looked about to argue. A little too little, a little too late. He couldn't listen to her lies. Philippe turned away so his back was facing her.

  "Don't bother packing your things. Sylvie will do that. Just leave. Immediately. I never want to see you again.” Liar. How his foolish heart could be holding on, he didn't know.

  "Okay.” She sounded as wiped-out as he felt. Philippe waited until the door clicked shut before collapsing in his chair, folding up, laying his forehead on the cool wood of the desk.

  * * * *

  This isn't happening. It can't be happening, Anne told herself, standing at the door. This is all a big mistake. It would be corrected. Philippe ... no he couldn't. He couldn't believe that of her.

  Sylvie watched her with a concerned expression on her face.

  Anne straightened, her body held rigidly upright. Breathe in, breathe out. Cool, calm, controlled. She was a professional. She could do this.

  "Sylvie.” Anne went up to the executive assistant, reaching out her hand, unsure of her reception. Take it, please take it, she begged silently. There was only a slight hesitation before it was grasped firmly. “Thank you for all you've done. It's been a pleasure working with you."

  "With you too, Anne.” The woman's sympathy almost undid her. She would not listen to it, no she would not. Only later, when...

  No, worry about later, be in the now. “There shouldn't be too much for you to pack up. I travel light.” Anne made a half-hearted joke. Sylvie didn't laugh. “If you could send it to my home, I'd appreciate it.” Less for Anne to move at her office. An office that wasn't her office anymore. She had no office.

  "I will. Come. I'll walk you down, Anne.” Sylvie smiled gently like Anne was a child to be comforted.

  "You don't have to do that,” Anne protested. She needed to be alone. Away from sad eyes.

  "Actually, I do."

  It took her a full minute before Anne realized what Sylvie was saying. That bastard. Not only did Philippe think she sabotaged Denise's business but he thought Anne was a risk to his own company. That hurt. No matter, she would get through it. She was strong.

  Anne walked, head held high through the office, smiling and saying goodbye to the few brave souls that did the same. The entire office knew. What they knew, Anne didn't know. She did know that it was these types of situations that defined people. The weak hid. The strong shook her hand. Philippe was lucky to work with some very strong employees.

  Then they were alone, Sylvie and Anne, standing in the elevator. Anne stared ahead, watching the bright red digital numbers change.

  "I know you didn't do it,” Sylvie said quietly, breaking the silence.

  Anne blinked. Of all people, Mrs. Depeche, with her unflinching loyalty, should have sided with her boss. “How?"

  "I saw the way you worked on this project, twisting and stretching the rules to make it happen. The late hours, the constant revisions. Not even Philippe would have tried so hard."

  "It was a good idea. Obviously.” Anne tasted the bitterness in her words. Bad ideas weren't often stolen. In all her years, nothing like this had ever happened. And now on her last plan...

  "And you don't have it in you. I trust you."

  "I appreciate that Sylvie, more than you'll ever know."

  At least someone trusted her. How could Philippe not? How could he think that of her? Philippe, the man she trusted. The man she cared for. The man, oh Lord, the man she might even love. Philippe thought she was a thief, and a liar and a backstabber. Anne couldn't contemplate the thought, it made her so sick.

  "Philippe will realize this too. After he has calmed down,” the executive assistant assured her.

  "It doesn't matter.” Not a single corner of her heart believed her own words.

  "I think it does.” The elevator stopped at the parking garage. Sylvie shook Anne's hand one more time, took Anne's pass, and then let the door close.

  Anne was alone. Alone with no job, no company but most of all, no Philippe. Anne walked through the parking garage, heels clicking on the ugly gray cement, tears falling down her face.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Thirteen

  Anne sat cross-legged in the middle of her office with a filing cabinet drawer open, sorting the files into three different boxes, one for shredding, one for storage, one for transfer to the client's site. It was almost surreal, how many companies she had touched over the years. Some never got off the ground, Anne turning down the opportunity to complete their plans. Some now enjoyed multi-million dollar revenues and were publicly traded. There was a lot left to do before they closed the office completely. The business plans were completed but the packing had to be done, the rest of the office furniture had to be sold, and all by the end of the month.

  Anne didn't mind the hard work. She trudged home at the end of the day, physically exhausted. It helped her not think about Lamont. Has it really been two weeks since Philippe fired me? Two weeks and nothing, not even a call. He should have figured out by now that she hadn't been responsible. If he cared enough to investigate.

  "You didn't eat the salad,” Nancy accused, standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, the lunch she brought to Anne untouched on the desk. Anne wasn't a big eater to start with but lately, she had been hard pressed to force any food past her lips. “Ya gotta eat, Annie. You're going to make yourself sick."

  What does it matter? She could afford the sick day. She could take a sick day, a sick month, hell, even a sick year and no one would care. Anne shrugged glumly, not looking up from her files.

  "And were you meeting with Ms. McKenzie today?” her friend asked.

  The angel of the angels? Where had that question come from? “Nope."

  "'Cause she's sitting in our reception area. Alone.” Truly alone. The receptionist's last day was the previous Friday. “Says she wants to speak to you."

  "Then I guess I'll listen to her.” Anne dusted off her khakis and moved the box off the guest chair. She didn't have much choice. The woman was waiting.

  "What do you think she wants?” Nancy ran a hand over her belly as they walked.

  "Don't know. I imagine she'll tell me.” Ms. McKenzie must have heard by now. Heard her, judged her.

  "You'll be fine.” Nancy squeezed her arm. She was a good friend, Nancy. With everything else going on in her own life, she put up with Anne's denial, rage and then extreme sadness.

  It was like a death really, a death of everything she knew and loved. Loved. Philippe. No. No time to think about him now.

  "Ms. McKenzie.” Anne stretched out a hand to the well-dressed woman, Nancy disappearing back into the hallway.

  "Anne.” The financier looked around her. “You run a tight ship here."

  Her return smile was weak. “We're dissolving the business
. Please excuse the mess.” Anne led her through the eerily quiet hallway to her own office.

  "Dissolving the business?” Ms. McKenzie lowered herself gingerly onto the rather dusty chair. “Does Philippe know?"

  "I don't know what Philippe knows.” Nor do I care, Anne silently added. “I no longer work for him."

  "So I heard.” The older woman wiped her hands on a tissue.

  "And did you hear why?” Anne decided to lay all the cards on the table.

  A heavily powdered nose wrinkled. “Some nonsense about leaking confidential information to the competition, or what not."

  Ms. McKenzie knew. This didn't surprise Anne but it still hurt. Years building a reputation and now she saw it destroyed in minutes with lies and innuendos. “Did Philippe tell you that?"

  "Child, Philippe told me nothing. He didn't volunteer the information nor would he answer any of my questions. He has been unusually tight-lipped."

  Honorable, that was the Lamont she knew ... and loved. “Then how?"

  "A couple sources. First that Suzanne person.” Ms. McKenzie scrunched up her face. “Let it drop at a cocktail party."

  At a cocktail party. With Philippe. Suzanne and Philippe, back together again. He didn't waste any time, did he?

  "Then Philippe's former executive came pawing at my door, looking for a job.” No respect from Ms. McKenzie there either. “Thought the information about you would help his case. It didn't."

  There was only one former executive that Anne knew. “Kevin Maple?"

  "That's the one. Stupid man, as if I would hire him."

  Maple had heard too. Must have made his day.

  "But that's the past. Let's talk about the future."

  The future? What future? Anne didn't have a future. At least, not with Ms. McKenzie.

  "I assume you're done with Philippe.” A valid assumption. “And you're done here. What are you doing next?"

  Anne didn't know. The colleges had their full complement of professors for the fall semester, leaving her unemployed. Not that Philippe would ever know that, Anne pressed her lips together mulishly.

  "I see.” Ms. McKenzie tapped her own painted lips with a fingertip. “I want you to work for me."