Rhode was leaning against a wall, peering out of a window, looking more like a woman waiting on her man to come home from war than a bloody ‘beloved’ socialite. She was also covered in bruises—bruises that hadn’t been there when she’d left the Marketing department.
“It’s make-up,” I rasped, suddenly concerned that, on top of everything else, Lizzie would think me capable of this level of violence against a woman.
Even if Rhode totally deserved it.
“I didn’t do that to her. I went to smack her, but the guards pulled her away.”
She clucked her tongue. “I didn’t think you’d done it anyway. I’ve already grabbed footage from the halls that night, Devlin. I know exactly what happened.” Her tone softened. “How’s he doing?”
“Badly.” I reached up and plucked my bottom lip. “Even if they have proof, she’s going to spin it, isn’t she? Twist it so that, somehow, I’m the bad guy.”
“She can try, but we have a bigger PR department.”
“This isn’t a dick measuring contest,” I argued gruffly, well aware that even if we sued, even if we threw cease and desist letters at websites and bloggers, the content wouldn’t stop spreading.
It’d go viral.
Because that’s what shit like this did.
And the only way to counter it was to go forward and reveal a truth that wasn’t mine to reveal.
Plucking at my bottom lip as I scrolled through the images, zooming in on some to enhance the bruises on her face and neck, arms and torso which she revealed in a demure camisole she’d never have been seen dead in at work.
“What’s her game?” I asked softly. “Micah’s pressing charges. It’s not like she can bury that.”
“Maybe she thinks she can. Maybe she believes she can leverage Micah’s charges with her pulling back from all this bullshit she’s selling.”
I pondered that, and almost immediately accepted that Rhode was that devious, capable of far worse than just that.
Legally, the board couldn’t do shit against me when I held fifty-one percent of the company stake. They couldn’t force me to resign, but could request me to take a step back for the sake of the company. A company that mattered to me.
Astley Publishing was one of the country’s leading publishers of Black and LGBT authors.
I’d worked hard to make it progressive and diverse, and the prospect of all the positive things I’d achieved being raked through the mud wasn’t about to put me in a good mood, but neither was I going to let that bitch bring me down.
With her having laid these particular seeds, anything I did just looked like retaliation or a cover up. Neither of which would be helpful in this situation. She’d backed me into a corner by being the one to draw light onto this sorry mess, and no Astley appreciated that.
As I scrolled through the images, of which there were dozens, scanned through the text, I asked, “Did you send Robert’s computer away like I asked you?”
“I did,” she confirmed, her voice slightly shaky with nerves.
I frowned. “Did something go wrong?”
“No. I, just—it was harder than you can know to let that out of my hands.”
Pity and resentment warred inside me. Pity for her, for Robert, resentment that Rhode was somehow still winning this war even if she wasn’t working for Astley anymore.
It was inconceivable to me that she’d come out of this unscathed.
There was goddamn video footage of her raping Micah—how did she think she could evade that?
Unless...
“You’re right. It’s about leverage.” I pursed my lips. “Well, two can play that game.”
“They can?” was Lizzie’s wary retort.
“Yeah. Inform the board I’m about to take a six-month sabbatical. That should allow things to die down. By that time, maybe her case will be up in court. If we’re lucky. These things take forever.”
“Is Micah willing to go all the way?”
I’d never actually asked him, had just assumed he would. Why wouldn’t he?
But then, I thought back to that horrendous night where I’d stood in a corner of a room in the clinic, watching as Micah was violated again, but by the law this time.
Everything he did, had done, had seen, said and touched, was up for question as he was tested and re-tested. All of that going down while he was still high on what Rhode had doped him with.
He’d been able to speak by the time the specially appointed nurse saw to him, but whether or not he’d been processing was another matter entirely. He’d answered her questions like a robot, all the while he’d broken my fucking heart. Not because of what his answers were, but because he’d been staring at me like I was the only thing keeping him going.
I swallowed at the thought, then reached up and rubbed at my eyes. Fatigue hit me hard, and I knew that there was a lot of shit I needed to admit to Micah. A lot we needed to discuss.
The Rhodes had a lot of clout in this city, and that made me question why the cops hadn’t been by to speak with Micah since the night of the attack.
“Devlin?” Lizzie prompted. “Is Micah willing to go all the way?”
“I assume so,” was all I said, not wanting to put words in his mouth. How many victims didn’t come forward because to prove what they’d been through was altogether too painful to them than the idea of their rapists walking free?
I wanted Micah to stand up and have his day in court where he saw that bitch in the dock where she belonged, but he might not want that.
In the interim, I had millions of dollars at my disposal, and I was about to use my own clout to secure the case against my ex-employee.
“Lizzie, I’m going to need you to bring Goldman, Berg, and Weiss onto this.”
“Your personal lawyers? Why?”
“Because they’ll do a better job than Mandelson,” I said grimly. “He’s grown soft. I’m sorry it took this to realize it, Lizzie.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m sorry she hurt Micah, Devlin. I never wanted—”
“I know.”
“You really care for him, don’t you?” she asked carefully, like she knew she was walking through a field of land mines.
Until Robert, we’d never discussed her personal life or mine. But ever since, the floodgates had been drawn, and I wasn’t altogether sure I appreciated the new status quo if it meant she could ask me questions like this.
I grunted, but on the brink of a non-committal answer, I found myself unable to give her that. Maybe because she’d stood by me, maybe because she wasn’t bitter toward me when she rightfully could be, or maybe it was for another reason. One that escaped me right now...
“I barely know him, Lizzie,” I rasped. “It started out all wrong, and I have no idea where it can even go, but—”
“But?” She cleared her throat when I stayed silent. “I didn’t realize you were—well, bi. Of all the things I know about you, somehow, it pisses me off that I didn’t know that.”
I snorted. “You mean, you’re okay with knowing my inseam, but not who helps me out of the pants after they’ve been made for me?”
“Something like that,” she said with a low laugh.