Conflict of Interest (Employee Relations Book 1)

by Teresa Michaels

  My only concern has to do with Jack’s parting words. “Continue to drive your partnership with Lucas. I’ve heard there’s tension. I see him as my successor, even over Mike. Help me make him successful, Gabby and the job is yours.”

  Talk about deflating my sails. With Lucas out of the office it’s been easy to pretend our last encounter didn’t happen. I’m typically the last thing on his mind so it wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t give it a second thought. But me? I’ve been freaking out.

  Since Saturday he’s officially dropped from my radar. I’d taken my parents to tour Recollections, which went way better than planned. The grounds were beautiful and the amenities were impressive. For a few hours it took my mind off of Lucas. Caring for my grandmother has helped too. Unfortunately, any time alone without distraction has him invading my thoughts.

  If securing this promotion wasn’t so important to me, both financially and professionally, I’d continue with my current modus operandi and ignore him right back. No emails. No texts. No calls.

  Following my conversation with Jack, he’s the only thing I can think about.

  How the hell am I going to get him to come around?

  Not by sitting here doing nothing. Caving, I send him a quick text.

  Me: Hey, how was New York. Would love to catch up when you’re back in the office tomorrow.

  I hit send and immediately regret how it sounds.

  The little bubbles that let you know someone’s responding to your text appear, and for a millisecond I’m actually excited. Maybe there’s hope after all. Holding onto that feeling, I watch the screen impatiently.

  And wait.

  Two minutes later and a message still hasn’t come through. The bubbles stopped about twenty seconds after they appeared. Frustrated, I put my phone away and finish what needs to be done before heading home, sadly realizing that if my success rests in Lucas’s hands then I’m screwed.

  On the walk home, I take a detour through Boston Commons, buying a hot dog from a food truck on the way, and perch myself on a park bench. Spring is finally here. Green grass has replaced the dingy brown weeds and the days are starting to get longer. My phone chimes on the last bite of my hot dog, indicating I have a new email. Hope rises from somewhere deep inside of me, letting me believe that Lucas had come to his senses. Maybe he read my text, or better yet all the emails I’d sent him over the past month and finally wants to discuss them. These thoughts filter through my brain in the two seconds it takes to unlock my phone and bring up my email. It takes far less for my heart to sink.

  There’s no email from Lucas, but there is one from John, one of Lucas’s direct reports, letting me know that his wife unexpectedly passed away late last night and that he didn’t know how long he’d be out of the office. I quickly reply with my condolences and answer a few questions about benefits before heading to my apartment in search of wine.

  I tip back the glass until it’s empty and fill it again. I can’t imagine what John’s going through, what it must be like to lose the love of your life. Knowing he’s going to need support, I confirm he’s okay with me letting his colleagues know and then email the staff with the details of the arrangements. It’s a fine line, to balance personal support with professionalism, yet when you spend hours a day with the people you work with, you become family of sorts.

  Everyone on Lucas’s staff emails back and we agree to attend the services as a team. Lucas is the only one who hasn’t responded by the time I get in bed. It’s nearly 10PM, but I call him anyway. And just as I should have expected, he doesn’t answer.

  So why am I shocked Friday afternoon when he doesn’t show at the funeral?

  After the service, a few of us take a cab back to the office. I left a few things upstairs that I’ll need to review over the weekend for when Jack returns from the UK on Monday.

  I step off the elevator and part ways with the others, and absentmindedly round the corner at the end of the hall, nearly running into Lucas’s chest in the process. He’s in the fucking office? Of course he is. His eyes travel the length of my body and then focus almost quizzically on somewhere past me. Any other day I might be tempted to decode his reaction.

  Not today.

  “No pink today?” he grins but it’s far from genuine. “Low on laundry or someone die?”

  My reaction must say it all. He knows immediately and he’s horrified. Good. Insensitive prick. My instincts tell me he’s not that cold-hearted but I’m too pissed to care.

  “Shit, Gabriella. It was meant as a joke.” His gaze falls to the floor and then rises to meet mine. He blows out a deep breath and runs his hands through his hair. “Are you okay?”

  God, he has some nerve.

  “Was that a serious question?”

  Reaching for my arm he narrows his brows in concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Do I want to talk?” I ask in disbelief, and shake off his hold. “I called you two days ago to inform you that John’s wife had died suddenly. If you checked your damn email you’d know I sent you the information as well. All of us, besides you, were there to pay our respects, to show John that we were there for him. Granted you’ve only known him for a month or so, but it would have been a kind gesture. Jesus, a card or a phone call would have sufficed.”

  “I was dealing with something personal when I lost my phone on the subway Wednesday afternoon. Why didn’t you leave a message?”

  “Was your email broken as well?”

  “I would have remembered seeing an email like that.”

  I’m about to snap. “Oh, so I’m a liar?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  And then it hits me. That day in his office when I set up the email reminder, he’d deleted it right in front of me and told me straight out that he’d check emails from me only once a week.

  “Of course you would have seen it had you checked your emails from me any day of the week aside from Fridays!”

  I drop my chin and close my eyes. I’d thought he was being an ass that day, which was a given. Apparently, he was also one-hundred percent serious. I lift my head, meeting his gaze and envision ripping his head off. Who the hell does he think he is?

  “Gabriella—”

  I hold up my hand. “Save it. I don’t want to hear it.”

  I brush past him and grab what I need from my office. When I turn to leave he’s standing in the doorway. He looks like he’s been punched in the stomach. Good to know he has an emotion other than pissed off and annoyed.

  “I’ll send flowers, or call him. What do you suggest?”

  “Now you want my advice? Well, here you go since you don’t seem familiar with the concept. Actions speak louder than words. You should consider applying that principal to your entire life,” I hiss, getting in his face.

  Sighing, I step back and shake my head. “Do you really think I reach out to you because I have nothing else to do? Trust me, I wouldn’t interact with you if my job didn’t depend on it. I mean it’s obvious you hate me. But your team? What the hell?” I suck in all the air my lungs can hold and slowly blow it out. “I’m not the only one who noticed you weren’t there. They deserve better.”

  Lucas expression hardens. “You’re being irrational. Just calm down.”

  “And you’re an asshole. I’ve got things to do. Could you move?”

  Lucas steps aside and I waste no time blowing past him, stepping into the hallway as Jack unexpectedly rounds the corner.

  “Just the person I was looking for,” Jack embraces me. “How’s John? I tried to get back in time for the service but the flight was delayed.”

  My attention volleys between the two men. How can they be so different? One man rearranges his schedule and crosses an ocean to be here for an employee, while the other has no clue what’s going on.

  “He’s holding up the best he can.”

  What else can I say? In addition to grieving for the love of his life, John has twin teenage daughters he has to raise on his ow
n now.

  “And how are you, Lucas?” Jack asks.

  “Been better,” Lucas replies.

  Jack pats Lucas on the shoulder. “Just be there for John and your team. That’s all you can do.”

  Lucas nods. “Of course.”

  Be there for him? Fucking comical.

  “Other than that, how are things going? Feeling settled?”

  “Getting there, Jack.”

  That would require some effort.

  I choose this moment to lose my professionalism and have verbal diarrhea. “Don’t let him downplay how well he’s acclimating, Jack. You should hear the ideas he has for reorganizing his team. In fact, they’re so creative I’m not sure any of us would have considered it.”

  I turn to face Lucas, who’s shocked and on his way to seething. “Oh, and let’s not forget the spin we’re putting on the New Leader Assimilation. His idea will literally blow you away.”

  Jack perks up, clinging to my words. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I’ll have Helen schedule time to review your plans first thing Monday morning.”

  I direct my attention to Jack and excuse myself. “I hate to cut this short, but I have an appointment I can’t be late for.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” Lucas offers flatly.

  “Actually, if you have time, Lucas, I’d like to bring you up to speed on my trip.”

  “Okay. Well…have a good weekend you two,” I practically sing as I walk to the elevator.

  I step out of the building and feel like I can breathe for the first time in days. The crisp air is invigorating, exactly what I need. If I hadn’t had the need to expel energy I’d have taken the T but walking six city blocks in high-heels can’t even get me down. Blisters notwithstanding, I feel great.

  I replay my outburst. Did I really just figuratively throw Lucas under the bus? Thank God we were in the safety of the office when I snapped or I might have actually pushed him into oncoming traffic. Perhaps it wasn’t my most professional moment, but personally? I’m beyond satisfied. And to top it off I have a date tonight, my first in months.

  I pull my phone out two blocks from my apartment and immediately send it to voicemail when I see its Lucas. Screw him. He can stew all weekend. At some point I need to evaluate exactly why he gets under my skin so bad and attempt to mend whatever shred of a partnership we have. Just not tonight.

  By the time I make it to my building he’s called three more times and I pray he doesn’t plan to do this all night.

  It rings again.

  I can either turn my phone off or get this over with.

  “So you do have my number.”

  “Cut the shit, Gabriella,” he growls.

  “Gabby.”

  “What the fuck are you playing at? Huh? Because of your little performance I’m on the hook for deliverables that will take all weekend. That’s if I can get them done. I don’t know half of what you signed me up for.”

  “Hmm, you sound upset,” I feign confusion.

  “Upset? Are you daft?”

  “There’s no reason for name calling. Listen, I’d love to help you, Lukie, but I’ve got plans. And besides, you’ve got this.”

  Click.

  Damn that was satisfying.

  My phone rings two more times before I finally shut it off.

  Walking into my apartment, I kick off my shoes and nearly skip across the living room and break into the running man when it hits me that I finally got the last word. My giddiness only enhances because I can’t remember the last time I was home by 5PM or had the apartment to myself before a date. To celebrate the small victory and decompress I pour a glass of my favorite wine and fill the bathtub. I throw my hair up into a messy bun and slip into the scorching water, letting the drama from work roll off my shoulders and soak until my fingers are pruney.

  When I have no choice but to get out of the tub, I dry off and lather myself with my favorite lotion. I leave my hair down and slip into my sleeveless raspberry tiered flare dress and pair it with my silver sling back pumps. Wanting to look as good as I feel, I apply a second coat of mascara and cover my lips with gloss before heading out the door.

  “Good evening, miss. How can I help you this evening?”

  “Hi. I’m meeting someone. The reservation is under Clark.”

  “Ah, yes. Mr. Clark had to take a call. Let me show you to your table.”

  I follow the maître d’ past dozens of tables, toward the dimly lit back corner, trying to get a glimpse of Chris in the crowd and come up empty. I met him getting coffee a few weeks ago and he asked for my number. Since Brad’s friend has been busy, I said yes. From what I recall, Chris is very good looking, but not much taller than me in heels, though that’s not necessarily a deal breaker.

  “Here you are. Enjoy.”

  “Thank you.”

  I power up my phone while I wait for Chris to join me, and find a host of texts from Lucas. Scrolling through them it’s apparent that his level of aggravation has continued to escalate. When I get to the last one I’m slightly worried.

  Lucas: Game on.

  What the hell does that mean?

  Pulling up my email, I note one from Jack and one from his admin, though I don’t have time to find out what they say as I can see my date in my periphery. Flustered, I turn to my date and thank God I’m not drinking since the man I’m staring at would be wearing it.

  “Glad to see you back in pink.”

  Lucas

  My nipples harden as if responding to a demand, and I curse my body more than ever for not getting on board with hating this man.

  “What the hell are you doing here? I have a date.”

  “Change in plans. I,” he says, pointing his thumb at his chest, “am your date.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” he warns, sliding into the booth next to me when I attempt to get out. “You get my text?”

  “Thought texting was impersonal.”

  “Seemed fitting given the recipient.”

  “Whatever. Real funny, Lucas. Can you please leave before Chris gets back?”

  With one arm on the table, and the other draped casually behind me along the back of the booth, Lucas levels me with an arctic glare. “I’m not kidding. We need to talk.”

  I study his features but his blank expression gives nothing away, making me slightly worried he’s telling the truth. “Where’s Chris?”

  “On his way home I’d guess.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What did you say to him?”

  Lucas shrugs as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll just call him and explain that my co-worker is a lunatic.” I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. Lucas covers my phone with his hand.

  “Won’t help. What, with you carrying our love child and all.”

  I gasp. “You didn’t!”

  “Decided to go with something realistic to explain your outburst back at the office. Hormone related seemed like the logical choice.”

  I curse myself for not paying more attention in my undergraduate criminal law class, because right now it’d be really important to understand how much jail time I’d do for butchering someone with a butter knife.

  “He’s my brother’s best friend who I’ll be seeing this Sunday at dinner,” I lie.

  “Then I guess your weekend just got interesting.”

  “My weekend would have been plenty interesting without your interference.”

  Somehow that’s entertaining to him. “Doubt that. Unless you planned on letting him dust.”

  Dust?

  Rolling the word over in my head, his meaning takes hold, and the embarrassment I felt just a week ago in a different restaurant seems insignificant.

  Oh fuck no.

  I flush with humiliation. “We are not discussing my…cobwebs.”

  “Still intact then? Good to know.”

  Everyone within a five-foot radius of our table turns when
I groan loudly. “You had no right to—”

  “And you did?”

  “You deserve far worse.”

  “Fair enough,” he concedes. “But if you’re going to volunteer me for something, you’d better be prepared to pitch in. Tomorrow, 9AM. Meet me at the office.”

  “Like hell. The last month has been bad enough but you really are a lunatic if you think I’d help you after what you’ve pulled tonight.”

  “Make the bed you sleep in, or so to speak.”

  My mouth falls open.

  Our waiter fills our water glasses and sets down a loaf of bread. Smart man that he is, Lucas takes hold of the knife and slices a piece before I get the chance to slice into him. He butters it and sets in on a small plate in front of me.

  “No thanks.” I push the plate away and continue to sulk.

  “I see you inhale a chocolate chip muffin on a daily basis. Don’t pretend you’re anti-carbs on my account.”

  I sink back into the booth, letting my head fall against the back with a thud. I shake my head. I’m at a loss for how to move forward, if that’s even possible. This is so messed up.

  “He wasn’t right for you, Gabriella.” His tone has softened and I force myself not to look to him. I’m sick of fighting but nowhere near ready to forgive him either.

  “Interesting assumption coming from someone who knows nothing about him…or me.”

  “I know enough,” he states arrogantly, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “For starters you’re not a bouquet of carnations kind of girl. He probably stole them off a table at another restaurant on his way here. If I had to guess, you’d appreciate something more creative. And he’s not your family friend. Some schlep who’s watched you at the coffee house three days a week for four months, and still doesn’t know how you take your coffee, hasn’t spent much time with you and isn’t the one.”

  Before I have a chance to formulate a response, two women with grayish-blue hair appear at edge of the table. “Ah, ladies.” Lucas slides out of the booth and hands a folded wad of bills to the first woman. “Impeccable timing.”

  He turns to me. “Gabriella, this is Harriet and Martha. They’re here on vacation from Arkansas. They’re going to dine with you tonight.”