“The only shame here is on Rhode. And then on us for not fucking finding a way to get her out of the company before she does it again.” I couldn’t help but think of Micah who was working under Rhode at that moment... Maybe that turned my tone gnarlier, nastier, because I snapped, “Mandelson, I don’t care how many detectives you have on this case. I want results. Now. Within the week minimum. I need something that will let us toss her out without leaving us open to a lawsuit.
“Lewis, you’re going to open the bank accounts to let Mandelson have the funds he needs to bankroll this, and none of you are going to bitch about it.”
The lawyer dipped his chin. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You won’t ‘see’ anything. You’ll act. I want that evidence.”
Killian, my COO who was the head of the HR department, said, “I’ve already opened the files up to your people, Mandelson. Surely there’s something in there. Two men have come forward but there have to be more.”
I cast him a scornful look. His earnestness was founded in his department being the one behind the major fuck up. “There must have been employees who left abruptly—”
“You do know Rhode, don’t you?” Lewis asked, snorting all the while like a hiccupping pig. “Everyone quits eventually.”
“Some more abruptly than others, surely?” I argued.
Mandelson murmured, “That’s actually one of the issues. It’s a large department, and the turnover of staff within it is quite high. Each abrupt resignation needs to be investigated.”
“Something’s not right in her department. You had better find out what.” I worked my jaw. “Now I’ve authorized you to spend more money on this, we need answers. Quickly.”
Shoving back from the table, I got to my feet and stormed off without another word.
Lizzie, the only assistant in attendance, scuttled after me as I strode toward my office. Sadie, quite smartly, kept her head down so as not to catch my attention even if I’d already spotted her.
There was nothing that irritated me more than dealing with a bunch of whining executives. My father would approve of them and their putting the company first, but that wasn’t how I wanted it to be here.
Maybe, just maybe, the personal connection to this made it harder on me than it would usually be. Yes, that made me a bastard, but Lizzie had worked with me for twelve years, and she’d been one of my most loyal members of staff. To think that her brother had killed himself over someone in my employ was something I was finding difficult to handle.
Somehow, she had kept her shit together. Somehow, she managed to deal with Rhode. I knew she was waiting on the day the bitch was fired, and that was when salt would be rubbed in the wound, but if I couldn’t give her that, she’d leave.
The fallout from that was something the board weren’t quite capable of calculating.
Dickheads.
Shoving a hand over my head, I rubbed the back of my neck as I aimed for the bank of windows where I’d fucked Micah. Because that broke my train of thought, I calmed down some—what memory of an epic orgasm wouldn’t be like a fast-acting Prozac?—but was still pissed enough to mutter, “Surely Robert had some texts or something. You’re sure you can’t get into his computer?”
“He locked it up tight. You know that,” she grumbled, plopping back and falling onto the sofa. Her head tilted against the cushions and she watched me stride back and forth in an attempt to burn off my irritation.
What pissed me off the most was that I’d hand-picked my executives. They were my selections. Before this situation, I’d have said they were damn good at their jobs. Now, I questioned my own humanity if they could so easily dismiss an employee’s suicide because of one of our VPs.
The thought had me turning to her and, abruptly, muttering, “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m so fucking sorry about all this.”
Her gaze softened on me as she started to turn her wedding ring, fiddling with it instead of wringing Rhode’s neck, I assumed. “You’re trying, Devlin. That’s all I could ask.”
“Is it fuck,” I grumbled. “I want answers, and I’ll get them. Not just for you, but for Robert. He deserves that goddamn much.”
“You paid for his funeral, his healthcare costs...” She shrugged. “My family couldn’t have afforded that. You’ve done plenty. This isn’t all on you, Devlin.”
Those costs had been a drop in the ocean, but it was blood money. Plain and simple.
I sliced a hand through the air. “By the end of the year, she’ll be out. I promise you that.”
Her lips twitched. “I’ll take comfort in that when I want to throat punch Nuñez.”
“Who the fuck could blame you? I felt like doing the same when she was all po-faced and looking constipated in that damn boardroom. Spouting scandals at me. Those idiots are so near-sighted it’s a joke. If they didn’t learn from the recent past then they’re not as well suited for their positions as I thought they were when I promoted them.”
“I warned you about Lewis,” she chided, but she was getting to her feet once more, her phone back in hand as she peered at her messages.
When a frown creased her brow, I asked, “Everything okay?”
“James has got a fever. Michael’s had to pick him up from school.”
I grimaced. “Sorry, Lizzie. If you need to go, go,” I told her, well aware that the reason Michael had picked their son James up was because she’d had her phone switched off during that fucker of a meeting.
She shook her head. “He’s taking the afternoon off. If you don’t mind, I’ll leave earlier than usual, though?”
“Of course I don’t mind.” My lips twisted. “Give the little shit a gift from me, eh? Cheer him up? Does he still love that Japanese thing?”
She snorted. “You mean Pokémon?”
Eyes glinting, I told her, “That’s the one.”
“I dread to think of you with children, Devlin,” she said dryly.
“Me too!” was my heartfelt reply.
Her phone buzzed. “You have a meeting in ten minutes with Frida Henson,” she reminded me.
I pulled a face. “Do I really need to? For God’s sake, it’s a waste of time. She wants to use her own editors and that’s not in the contract.”
“Her last three books topped the New York Times bestseller list,” Lizzie said wryly. “I think it’s gone to her head.” She waggled her phone. “Just appease her. Tell her she can use whichever in-house editor she wants. It isn’t our fault she pisses them off by going so close to the wire we’re almost late for printing.
“Don’t threaten her though. You know what she’s like. Thinks she’s Frida Kahlo reincarnated. The last thing we need is her doing some kind of goddamn demonstration in front of Astley Tower.”
My lips twitched. “Painting the floor red with the lifeblood spilled from her art? That would almost be worth watching. Better than the crap she writes. How that shit does well is beyond me.”
“Your wallet appreciates it, so does mine,” was her rueful retort. “I have some meetings of my own. Do you need anything before I go?”