Conflict of Interest

by Allyson Lindt

  Kenzie opened her mouth to offer some kind of denial and reassurance.

  “I didn’t know why I told him no at the time.” Riley cut her off. “He’s nice enough, he’s kind—all the adjectives a guy should have. But…” She blew a strand of blonde off her forehead.

  “Then I saw you and Scott at that investor dinner. The way his eyes never quite left you, the respect in his voice when he talked to you, the fact that you’re exactly the same way with him. Archer and I never had that. We might have some day, but seriously, I don’t think any of my friends—married, attached, whatever—look at each other with the kind of adoration he directed at you. And you’d sacrifice that because of some self-declared, impossibly immovable definition of what is and isn’t appropriate?”

  A sharp pang dug into Kenzie’s chest and tears pricked her eyelids. “I don’t have a choice.”

  Riley shrugged and turned away. “I don’t see a gun to your head.” She left, closing the door behind her, the latch clicking shut and echoing like a shot in Kenzie’s head.

  Another layer of guilt sank over Kenzie. She’d known Riley wouldn’t understand. She never did. It had to be this way. There weren’t any other options. Her stomach clenched with despair, and her eyes burned.

  As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just lay around forever. She pushed herself out of bed, shuffled the few short feet to her desk, and dropped into the mesh chair. Riley’s words taunted her as she started her laptop.

  Why was she even dwelling? That was what had gotten her in trouble in the first place—believing that life would be better if she learned how to let loose. A tiny part of her reminded her she probably wouldn’t have gotten to know Scott the way she had if it hadn’t been for that impulse.

  She mentally scolded herself. Then she wouldn’t have fallen for him, wouldn’t have lost him, and wouldn’t be aching now.

  She opened a web browser in autopilot. A blank search-engine screen stared back at her. What was she doing? She started typing in the search box, and the predictive results scrolled link after link to car dealerships.

  She clicked down to Scott Evans, Jr. She lost track of time as she jumped from one site to the next. A newspaper article about him entering rehab at sixteen for alcoholism. Junior high yearbook photos from a very private, very expensive finishing school. High school photos of a quarterback who led his school’s team to their worst record in decades, obliterating the way the school had worshiped his father’s football career.

  And blurb after blurb from gossip and society sections of local papers, older ones mentioning the well-behaved pre-teen sliding into quiet, sullen, and then the son who had disowned his own father.

  She didn’t know where to focus her thoughts first. He knew it all—everything she’d been trying to teach him about how to dress, behave, socialize, draw positive media attention, he already knew it. She traced her fingers over a black-and-white photograph of Scott in high school. He looked so very miserable.

  Then again, how happy could a person be having a lifestyle they didn’t enjoy shoved down their throat on a daily basis? She dropped her head into her arms. No wonder he’d been so resistant. He’d even tried to tell her, and she hadn’t listened.

  It was true, her job had been to make him look good in front of the cameras, but had she gone too far trying to change how he appeared instead of doing the right thing and making them appreciate what he already was?

  Damn it.

  * * * *

  Scott grabbed his phone the moment it rang, hope and nausea churning inside. “Grant, how are you?”

  “Better than you, my boy.” The usual underlying chuckle was gone from Grant’s voice. “You really screwed things up. Not just for you, but for that young lady.”

  The statement gnawed on another layer of his mood. He wanted to believe she had used him as much as he had enjoyed her, but she’d made it clear that most of their relationship was in his head.

  Scott pushed the thoughts back before they could become the jumbled mess they had every time they’d surfaced over the last twenty-four hours. “I know. I need information.”

  Grant would know what he was talking about. “I can’t give you specifics, I can only tell you the board is split down the middle. You’ve made a lot of influential men—people who expect everyone to take them seriously—believe you think their word is meaningless.”

  Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. He bit back the curse. If they voted to fire him, he’d lose the second most important thing in his life.

  Wait. First. Right?

  Right. Because Kenzie wasn’t in his life anymore. He sandbagged the flood of thoughts again. Not that he cared. Only intensely and painfully.

  “I warned you about selling your soul.” Grant’s warm sympathy interrupted the rambling thoughts.

  Scott snapped back to the conversation. “I know. But what was I going to do?”

  “Buy it back.”

  That was the fail-safe. The loophole. Scott knew that, but he was still concerned. “Buying out and firing Cartee isn’t going to convince the rest of the board I’m worthy of keeping my job.”

  Grant sighed. “You’d have to convince them Hank was the only real risk.”

  Scott’s eyes grew wide at the thought. He’d found the proof he needed that Cartee had planted the photos, but they were still real pictures. Hank had done so much more than Scott ever expected. Scott had yelled and argued with his father for hours after he’d uncovered Hank’s financial background, and he’d finally discovered the truth. Was it enough?

  “What if I could show that Hank’s money wasn’t his? That he lied about his funding and intended to displace me from his first day on the board? Do I even have a chance of convincing them I’m sorry and turning their attention back on him?”

  Through a series of shell companies and off-shore accounts, his father had funded Hank’s failing empire to force Scott out of his own company. Being disowned by his son had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d known he couldn’t buy in as himself, but he hadn’t had to. Hank had been quick to act as a face for Scott’s father since he’d never liked Scott or his business practices.

  “Men like me let our money and egos drive us. You’ve already proven you’re worth the investment. If your apology is sincere and your proof is solid, you might have a chance.”

  Scott exhaled, a whisper of relief tickling his senses. “Thanks. I owe you.”

  “You haven’t let me down yet.” Grant’s smile was almost visible over the phone.

  Scott’s mind was racing as he hung up. That was what he had to do; it all made perfect sense. Rae could make the numbers work to buy out Hank, and he would beg the board’s forgiveness if that’s what it took to win them back, especially if he could share the blame with Cartee. As long as it didn’t mean denying what had happened with Kenzie. Please don’t let them ask that of him. It was the one concession he wasn’t willing to make.

  He slouched back against the couch, exhaustion rushing in to temper the exhilaration. So that was half his problem solved. What was he going to do about the other half?

  He couldn’t ask Kenzie for forgiveness. Listening to her tear him down again was too painful a road for him to even consider. But he knew how to save his own job, at least he could try to do the same for her. He placed another call.

  Two hours later he was sitting in a small office across from a woman who insisted he call her Greta. Papers were piled high on either side of her, and loose strands of red rebelled against her ponytail.

  Reporting to her must drive Kenzie insane. The thought would have made him smile on any other day.

  “You’re a lot more trouble than someone in your position should be.” There was no malice in Greta’s comment.

  He let out a small laugh. “So I hear. Thank you for making time for me.”

  “Of course. You understand Mackenzie is one of my best, and I don’t like the way this has turned out.”

  His gut clenched at the words, adding to the al
ready churning dread of what he was about to say. He was going to sign away the last traces of something amazing, but he couldn’t think of another way. “I don’t blame you. I’m not so fond of it myself.”

  Her smile faltered. “I don’t do small talk very well. Can we cut to the chase?”

  “Right.” He swallowed, mentally steeling himself. These ties needed to be severed completely, and this was the last missing piece. “Those pictures that got out. None of those were Miss Carter’s fault.”

  He forced himself to keep talking. It destroyed him to admit it, but he knew it was true. “She was never anything but professional. She went above and beyond when it came to putting up with my crap. I was difficult, and I sabotaged her efforts for selfish reasons that had nothing to do with her or your organization.”

  Which was exactly the case, right? He had to convince himself he believed it, or it would show. He was a terrible liar.

  Greta studied him for a moment. “You know this has legal implications, right? You leave yourself open to a harassment lawsuit if Mackenzie says it’s appropriate. Breach of contract. Libel concerns.”

  He did. “I’m willing to go through whatever arbitration is necessary.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “It may be more serious than that.”

  His smile turned hard. “Then your contract should have covered that. What did it say? All claims and disputes arising under or relating to this agreement are to be settled by binding arbitration.”

  Not that he planned on dragging such a thing out, but he was willing to stick his ass on the line for Kenzie, not for a loosely worded, boiler-plate clause.

  Greta’s expression didn’t give anything away. “Point taken. Thank you for stopping by.”

  He paused halfway out of his seat, not wanting to ask but not able to help himself. “This gets her out of hot water, right?”

  Greta’s mask slipped, a whisper of a genuine smile leaking in. “I can’t guarantee anything, and I can’t discuss that with you.”

  Of course. He knew better. “Thank you for your time.”

  Chapter 19

  Would it ever get easier to approach those giant glass walls that exposed the office to the rest of the world with no shame? Kenzie pushed the question aside. It didn’t matter. After today she’d never do it again.

  The receptionist glanced up as she approached, smile not as friendly as it had been in the past, but still polite. “Mr. Johnston says you can go on back.”

  Mr. Johnston. That didn’t bode well. Kenzie returned the smile, hoping her nervousness didn’t show. She couldn’t tell Scott what she’d figured out, not that he would take her calls anyway, but she couldn’t face him. Still, she had to tell someone and Zach seemed like as good an option as anything, so she’d set up a meeting with him.

  She reached the office. It was the same basic layout as Scott’s, but instead of industry awards, artwork, and framed magazine articles on the walls, it was sterile like the lobby. Her feet froze to the floor when she saw one of the two chairs across from Zach’s desk was already occupied.

  Zach stood and gestured to the empty chair. “Miss Carter. I hope you don’t mind, we’re in the middle of some serious planning, but I’ve got time for you. Have a seat.”

  Scott never looked at her. She struggled not to stare at his back, the T-shirt with a faded Sonic the Hedgehog, the torn jeans, everything that indicated he was him and not playing the role he’d been forced into. “Thank you, but I’ll stand if that’s all right. I won’t take long.”

  Zach clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on his toes. “Suit yourself. What can I do for you?”

  She opened her mouth, and her entire rehearsed speech evaporated from her thoughts. She hadn’t meant to do this in front of Scott. He wasn’t meant to hear this. What if he hated her for it?

  Zach watched her expectantly.

  She was going to have to say something. “I think you made a mistake hiring me.” The words tumbled out before she knew what she was going to say. She wanted to flinch, but she was afraid if she stopped talking, she’d never be able to start again. “Not me specifically, but in general.”

  Zach raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.

  “You have a brilliant designer, developer, director, person driving the creative half of this company.” She forced herself not to look at Scott the entire time. “Regardless of what some suit on the board of directors says, he makes you what you are. And you can’t make him conform just because people say he should. You can’t stifle him.”

  She took a deep breath, hating the silence in the room. Should she say more? What else was she going to say? Short of proclaiming how very desperately she personally wished she could take it all back, if only she had recognized how she felt about him sooner … but that wasn’t for public consumption. Or at least, not unless they both felt the same way.

  Zach looked away from her, gaze falling to Scott, something unreadable in his expression.

  She followed his line of sight, staring at the back of the impassive head.

  Scott stood and turned, face a blank mask. His voice was cold, lined with a sharp edge. “It’s my understanding, Miss Carter, that your company has assigned someone else to work with me.”

  At his request. Kenzie swallowed, the lack of emotion devouring her as much as the formality. “That’s correct.”

  Scott’s smile looked like it had been chiseled from ice. “Your employer might not appreciate you undermining their work. Especially since, if I’m correct, you still got paid.”

  The words sliced through her. She’d expected a lot of reactions, but not to be told she was wrong. To have her concession thrown back in her face. She opened her mouth to protest.

  Scott cut her off. “You were right to begin with Miss Carter. This is for the best. You can see yourself out, I assume?”

  Hurt coursed through her, making every inch of her ache. “Yes. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

  His expression cracked, but she didn’t stay to see if it crumbled. She spun on her toe, making a straight line for the exit and hoping she could hold back the tears until she was alone in her car.

  *

  After Kenzie left, Scott dropped back into the chair, her words bouncing around in his skull, echoing with sincerity. Fuck, why did she have to do that? He was trying to forget how very much he wanted her, and she had to go and say those awful, kind words that made him want her even more, and still weren’t enough to convince him she felt the same.

  It had devoured him to be so cold, but she was only interested in making professional amends—he couldn’t let himself believe otherwise, it already hurt too much. It was better this way. She was gone now, and he could begin what was already an agonizing process of getting over her. If he could.

  Zach sat down too, a heavy sigh echoing through the room. “God you’re an ass sometimes.”

  Scott glared at him. “I didn’t ask you.”

  Zach shrugged. “Which is funny, because I didn’t ask to play middleman in some twisted kind of lovers’ spat. We don’t always get what we want.”

  “That’s clever. Did you steal that off a Hallmark card?” Scott couldn’t keep the snide from his question. “Seriously? What was the point of even hiring her? Cartee completely turned it against me. That’s going to cost me a fortune.”

  “Your girl did her job and she did it well, aside from a couple indiscretions. Don’t blame this on her.” Zach drummed his fingers on the desk, rolling a loose cigarette back and forth across his knuckles.

  “My girl?” The term crawled under Scott’s skin, filling him with a despair he didn’t understand.

  Zach’s expression didn’t shift. “You’re sure you want to take care of Cartee alone? Rae showed me the numbers. It’s going to kill you to buy him out.”

  The clause they’d written into every investor’s agreement. The one that allowed them to buy the person out for a fixed percentage above their original investment in exchange for removing them from the boa
rd of directors. The insurance they’d built in to make sure they didn’t lose their company again. “I’m sure. This really is my fault. I won’t let you pay for that.”

  Zach pursed his lips. “You really are a childish, spoiled brat. Even when you’re taking responsibility, you have to play the martyr to prove a point.”

  Scott shrugged, wishing the words didn’t hurt so much. “Frequently. And?”

  “You got what you wanted, and in the end you get to do it your way, regardless of the cost. She’s gone, you keep your job, and that painful irritation who calls himself Hank Cartee will be out of our lives.

  “And you still look like someone shot your dog. You’re not going to let a silly little girl saying things you’ve already proven distract you from that victory are you?”

  He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Scott knew what he wanted and for the first time in a long time, he suspected she was the one thing he couldn’t have. “Yeah, I probably am.”

  “You love her.”

  Love. Was that what this was? If so, it hurt like hell. And he never wanted to lose it. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

  Zach’s mask slipped, a whisper of a smile leaking in. “You going after her?”

  Not likely. “She doesn’t want me.”

  “You’re a moron. Of course she wants you.”

  She didn’t. She couldn’t. Not after everything that had happened between them. She hadn’t even called him personally to share her “revelation.” She’d gone to his business partner. Kept it public so—he could only assume—she wouldn’t have to face how he might feel personally.

  *

  Kenzie sat in her car staring at the roof, not able to bring herself to leave the parking garage. Tears stung her eyelids, and her throat was raw. She was never going to see him again. Not after the way he’d dismissed her moments earlier.

  And it was her fault. So many things she never should have done. Taken the contract. Denied how attracted she was to him. Convinced herself she’d be happy hiding something as amazing from the world as what she felt for him.