Conflict of Interest (Employee Relations Book 1)

by Teresa Michaels

  She must be kidding. There is no way in hell I’m going to let her dictate how I manage my team.

  I lean forward and rest my elbows on her desk. “Do you support anyone else?”

  “For the time being I’m filling in for my manager who just went out on maternity leave. Until she returns, I’ll be sitting on Jack’s staff. Normally, it’s you and Mike, the head of Global Sales and Marketing that I work with directly from a strategic perspective, though I support everyone in both organizations with day-to-day needs as well.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate, eh? I’m sure that keeps you busy.”

  Sensing what’s coming next, she quickly redirects the conversation. “Why don’t you tell me how you’ve partnered with HR in the past.”

  I blink at her. “I haven’t.”

  “Do you have ideas of how you’d like us to work together?” she questions.

  “To be honest I don’t really see the need.”

  She frowns but quickly recovers. “Why don’t I tell you how I partner with Mike and we’ll go from there.”

  Telling me she likes it when I take her across that desk is about the only input I’ll be taking from her anytime soon. I push the binder back to her and lean forward, placing my forearms on the desk.

  “Gabriella—”

  “Gabby,” she corrects though it’s too late. Her full name was committed to my long-term memory the moment I laid eyes on that nametag.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way.” Her smile falls and for some unknown reason I almost reconsider what I’m about to say.

  Almost.

  “If I come up with something that requires your input, you’ll be the first to know. As far as creating the overall strategy for my organization, I won’t be needing your help. I’ve got this.”

  Ignoring her reaction, that’s somewhere between hurt and shock, I push back and excuse myself. I’m not sure what’s worse, that I upset her or that I’ve just been a complete ass to a new co-worker. Either way, I’m not sticking around.

  “Cheers,” I mutter over my shoulder and shut her door behind me.

  Fuck. Me.

  Chapter 2

  Lucas

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  I slump back into my chair and blink at the vacant seat across from me with my mouth hanging open, trying to process what just happened.

  Did I imagine that?

  The limited progress I’ve made in unscrambling my thoughts in the ten minutes since Lucas left is lost when the 1991 DJ Jazzy Jeff and Will Smith anthem, Summertime, fills my office.

  I slide my finger across the screen of my cell phone absentmindedly, and lift it to my ear.

  “You there?” Summer asks, car horns blaring in the background.

  “Uh,” I reply, still distracted.

  Seconds pass.

  “Earth to Gabby,” she says, sensing that I’m not paying attention. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “I’m not really sure,” I answer, because I have no idea what the hell transpired.

  Summer laughs. “What’s going on, Gabs?”

  I kick my shoes off and pace my office. “I just had my first meeting with my new business partner,” I tell her, pressing the palm of my hand to my forehead. “And it didn’t go so well.”

  “Why would you say that?” she asks.

  “For starters he barely looked at me, and not even fifteen minutes into our conversation, he advises me that if my input’s required or something like that, he’ll let me know, and ‘he’s got this’…then he up and left.”

  My eyes slowly trace the few steps he had taken when he gracefully retreated, stopping when they land on the back of my door. “Oh, and he shut me in my office. Like I’m in a time out.”

  “Seriously?” she scoffs.

  “Seriously,” I confirm.

  “Sorry, Gabs. I know you were really looking forward to meeting him.”

  She’s right. I was excited to meet him. When his former HR partner emailed me late last week, informing me of what a stellar employee we were getting, and how lucky I was to have him working on our team, I assumed that meant he and Lucas had a good relationship. Now I wonder if they’d ever met.

  I sigh and change the subject, not wanting to admit how thrown I am by Lucas’s behavior. “Where are you? You’re panting like a dog.”

  “Brad asked me to meet him for lunch today, but had to cancel last minute. I’m two blocks from your office. Can you get away?”

  Brad and Summer have been seeing each for almost a year. He lives in Connecticut but travels to Boston for business frequently and has an apartment here. I’m not a huge fan, but he makes her happy so I keep my mouth shut as much as possible.

  I glance at the back of my door and sigh. Technically I should still be meeting with Lucas. Ducking out mid-day to wallow in self-pity isn’t my thing, but screw it. Getting out is exactly what I need.

  “Lucky for you, my calendar’s suddenly clear.”

  I hang up and slip back into my shoes. Smiling, I grab my purse and open the door to my office. My smile fades as soon as I lock eyes with Lucas, who stops mid-stride exiting through his own doorway. The good manners that have been ingrained in me since I was a child, beg me to make conversation and smooth over whatever misunderstanding lies between us. But the way he squares his shoulders, with his jaw firm, puts me on the defensive. I quickly tear my gaze from his, and instead high-tail it to the elevator.

  “I’ll have the loaded bacon cheeseburger, cooked medium, with fries and a side of gravy.”

  Summer’s eyes go wide.

  “Stop judging me,” I warn, pointing my finger at her. “I’m in need of comfort food.”

  She holds her hands up to fend me off. Biting her lip, she scans the menu again and laughs. “I’ll have the same,” she says, handing our menus to the waitress. “Alright. Spill already.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “You’ve had some shitty business partners in the past. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

  Where should I begin?

  “None of them were so upfront about despising my profession. It wasn’t just that he was dismissive. He acted like I was beneath him, like I’m incapable of understanding his role or the organization. And to top it off, he can’t even remember my name. I must have reminded him that I go by Gabby a handful of times. Does he call me Gabby? Noooo! It’s Gabriella,” I imitate with my best Irish accent.

  “That’s pretty hot. I’d let him call me whatever he wanted.” She’s got a point. Even if his accent is diluted, his voice alone is seductive enough to melt a pack of Kerry Gold, if not my panties. In fact, I’m positive that’s how he’s gotten ahead in his career.

  I groan. “You’re not helping Summer.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t misinterpret?”

  “He speaks English, there was no room for a translation error.”

  “There has to be something else going on,” Summer rationalizes. “He just moved to a new city with what, a week’s notice? That’s a lot to deal with.”

  “Pftt. His one and only goal was to make sure I understood who was calling the shots…and it’s not me.”

  “Napoleon complex?” she poses and I have to laugh.

  “I doubt there’s an insecure hair on his body, and he’s got to be over a foot taller than me.”

  She folds her arms, leaning forward on the table, and wags her eyebrows. “Hot?”

  I glance at her through my lashes while shredding a napkin and shrug. “I guess if you discount his personality, some might consider him attractive.”

  She doesn’t need to know that I faked a phone call when I first saw him walk by so that I had time to compose myself before we met. Or that I could easily get lost in the depths of his piercing blue eyes. Spend hours running my hands through his thick, dark chocolate colored hair. Let him…wait, what the hell
am I doing?

  Stop it, I scold myself.

  Summer arches her perfectly sculpted brow as the waitress sets down our food. Did I mention I’m not the best liar? She doesn’t press the topic any further throughout our meal, and for that I’m grateful.

  It’s probably for the better that he’s an ass. If he was half as nice to talk to, as he was to look at I doubt I’d be able to be in the same room as him. The sick thing is, it’d taken me too many minutes after he left to process that he’d essentially told me to screw off, yet I’ve spent half the day thinking about him.

  We spend the next twenty minutes devouring our food and talking about our schedules for the next few weeks. Summer travels frequently, which is an aspect of her job I don’t envy.

  “Did that make you feel better?” Summer asks when we’ve both polished off our entire meal.

  “Up until the last bite,” I admit, rubbing my belly. “I might throw up.”

  “Me too. You can thank me for jumping on your emotional eating bandwagon by going to kick-boxing with me tonight.”

  “Deal. Hitting something sounds like a good idea.”

  She watches me thoughtfully for several seconds and then sits forward. “I’ve been in your shoes a few times before. Having to find a way to break down a colleague’s walls.”

  She takes a sip of her water and flags the waitress to let her know we’re ready for the check. “In one situation, the guy was just a prick. He’d been promoted to the executive ranks way too quickly and had a huge ego. No matter what I did, he wasn’t going to change. He treated everyone the same so eventually I was able to let it go.” She shrugs. “With Beth, it took a while to earn her trust and when I did it ended up being one of the best partnerships I’ve had. She’d had a bad experience with HR in the past and stereotyped anyone in the profession.”

  Summer pauses to sign the receipt. “I guess what I’m saying is, hang in there and try not to take it personally. It’s frustrating but give him a chance.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Giving him the benefit of the doubt would be the mature thing to do.

  “I’m always right.”

  We step outside and finalize our plans to meet at the gym. “Oh, and one more thing. You’ve busted your ass to get where you are. If he turns out to be a prick, promise me you won’t let it consume you. Give it a shot and if it doesn’t work, let it go. He might fail without your help and he might not. Either way, if he’s not willing to partner it’s his loss. You’ll find a way to get recognized without killing yourself to get there or taking responsibility for a success that isn’t yours to own.”

  Having Jack on my good side to help promote the program I’ve developed isn’t my only motivation for building a solid relationship with Lucas. Rumor has it that my manager isn’t coming back from maternity leave. How successful I am at filling her shoes in the interim will play a huge role in determining whether or not Jack thinks I’m ready to move up. It’s a huge role, no doubt about it. But I want it and I know it’s time.

  But just because I have a personal agenda for pushing the partnership doesn’t mean I’ll treat him differently than my other business partners. I’d just rather it develop a little more quickly and after our first meeting, I’m a little nervous that it might not happen at all.

  “I promise.” Summer knows that letting go of relationships, be it personal or professional, isn’t easy for me.

  Walking back to the office, I stop for a coffee and think back to what Summer said. Maybe I had misunderstood what he said, or perhaps he’s just unnerved by moving to a strange new city and taking on such a huge role. By the time I step out of the elevator I’m convinced that approaching him to clear the air is a good idea.

  I stand tall and head for our hallway. When I get to his door he’s heads down, writing in a notebook.

  I knock.

  “Hey, I’m glad I caught you.” I smile when he glances my way and I swear he almost does too. “Do you have a minute?”

  His phone rings before I cross the threshold and I’m disappointed that he looks relieved. He hasn’t shown me many expressions, and the ones he has aren’t encouraging.

  “Lucas,” he answers curtly. He rises from his seat and confidently strides toward me till our shoes are nearly touching. His proximity combined with his towering presence and the intensity of his glare sends me backpedaling two steps into the hallway.

  He lowers his phone to his shoulder. “I’m busy.” With his free hand he grabs the doorknob and shuts me out.

  Again.

  Returning to my office I replay our initial conversation for the hundredth time and circle back to my first conclusion.

  Maybe he’s just a dick.

  This is going to be harder than I thought.

  Chapter 3

  Gabby

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  A simple phone call can change your life. I’ve heard that expression over the years but up until a week ago I hadn’t experienced the sentiment myself. Not until Jack called.

  I had just kicked ass in the quarterly meeting and was finishing up a conversation with some board members, most of whom are high-profile executives from other Fortune 500 companies. Jack and I had a great conversation about the role and potential for growth in the future. Everything was sunshine and roses until the end.

  “Can I have a few days to think it over?” I asked.

  “Of course, of course,” he assured me.

  “Thanks, Jack. I’ll be in touch.”

  “One more thing, Lucas.” It got quiet for a few beats and I wondered if there were issues with the products or the team I was set to inherit. “I want to be clear that managers are expected to refrain from relationships with co-workers. We have a very strict non-fraternization policy and I expect you to uphold it.”

  “Jack.” I was taken aback. Sure, he didn’t know me, but come on. “I would never bring my personal business into the office. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “Never hurts to clarify expectations.”

  When we ended the phone call I was flabbergasted. Had he heard rumors that I’d slept around with my peers? No, I knew that wasn’t it. Sure, I’d been hit on by female co-workers, more often that I’d care to admit. Dating wasn’t high on my list of priorities, nor was the drama that would have ensued afterward. Needless to say, I’ve never had anything other than professional relationships with the women I’ve worked with.

  The more I thought about it I was positive the reason the position was available was because the person who suddenly left had slept with someone. Now I’m wondering if Jack had foresight into the attraction I would have for Gabriella. Worse, what if the person who left had slept with her.

  I down what’s left of my coffee, attempting to rid my mind of the unpleasantness of that possibility. Having known the woman less than a day, I find it odd that it bothers me because…well, it just shouldn’t.

  Like any good employee on their first day, I’ve spent the last few hours hunkered down in my office reading and rereading the company handbook, paying particular attention to the section prohibiting romantic relationships in the workplace. Catch phrases amongst the legal jargon jumped off the page.

  Unprofessional environment. Favoritism. Sexual harassment. Conflict of interest. Up to and including termination.

  I’ve worked at this company for the better part of my career and I can honestly say I’ve never read these policies until now. It’s blatantly clear, in black and white, that office affairs are prohibited. Any way you look at it, Gabriella’s off-limits.

  Not that you want her, I remind myself.

  I drag my hands over my face and groan. As my stomach growls I mentally chastise myself for the millionth time since I shut the door in her flawless face, that this shouldn’t be an issue. Daylight’s long gone and I’m fucking starving. Now that’s an issue.

  Without shutting down my laptop, I shove it
in my bag and head home for the night. Thanks to all the email lists Gabriella added me to I’ll be spending all night catching up.

  I take the stairs down fifteen flights and step outside to the busy street. The brisk April air refreshes my lungs. It’s technically spring in New England yet the bone-chilling breeze reminds me that it could snow at any moment. Not that I mind. I haven’t gotten used to the idea of driving again after walking or taking the subway for close to a decade no matter what the weather. Plus, I need to decompress.

  There isn’t the same energy here as in New York City. Shops and restaurants line the streets, and people bustle by. In New York, you walk in an ocean of people, the excitement and livelihood pours through every crevice. Boston is much smaller in comparison, creating a notion of familiarity. People stop and talk to each other. It’s comfortable, almost homey.

  I’m not sure I like that. I much prefer solitude to solidarity.

  I reach the apartment in less than twenty minutes and take the stairs to the third floor. Once inside the four walls of the brownstone that feels anything like home, I drop my bag on the ground next to the kitchen counter, reach in the refrigerator and crack open a beer. I’m relaxed for the first time all day. That is until I hear my roommate and some woman moaning in the next room.

  Four days of living together is all it took for me to figure out his routine. I don’t have to look to know exactly what’s going on, down to the position. Alright, so he told me his lineup, but I would have figured it out relatively quickly.

  Monday’s and Wednesday’s are some girl named Molly – she’s a bartender at a pub near Faneuil Hall. Then there’s Shannon - Ms. Thursday. I’m sure he told me what she does or how they met but thankfully my brain is blocking out the details. On the weekends it’s whatever random girl he finds worthy of bringing back, puts on a cheesy movie and then makes out with them on the couch like they’re in junior high. I’m no saint but he’s definitely a pig. I can only imagine what a black light in the living room would reveal.