“You’re right, Leigh.” Gavin turned his attention back on Kinsey. “Why don’t you join me in my office? We can have a cup of coffee and discuss your failures.”
Leigh sucked in a quick hiss of breath, but before she could say anything, Gavin snapped at her.
“Leigh, I insist that you allow me to run my department in the way of my choosing—within the bounds of human resource approval, of course—or I will walk, and the licensing agreement for Archambeau’s biggest money makers will go with me.” He gave Leigh a smile that reminded Kinsey of the look Scar gave Mufasa before that awful wildebeest scene. “Who knows, I might even march my way down to Beckett Cosmetics before heading home and have them make their best offer. It is on the way, after all.”
The vein in Leigh’s temple pulsed in a steady fuck-you rhythm. “You can’t do anything while our lawyers are in mediation.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Unlike some people here”—his gaze slid over to Kinsey—“I’ve done nothing to materially harm the company, and therefore the agreement stands. I leave and the company fails. Do you really want to push me?”
Leigh stood there and worked her jaw back and forth as she flexed her fingers. She wasn’t a woman on the edge. She was someone who had enough of other people’s shit and was this close to saying fuck the licensing agreements, the company could survive without them.
That was no doubt possible, but Kinsey had done her research on the company, and it would be harder than the rounded toes of Uncle Earl’s steel-toed boots to make happen.
Bonsoir Rajeunir and Toujours accounted for about 80 percent of Archambeau’s market share. Leigh’s ex-husband, Luca, had well and truly set the company up for failure after it became clear she’d get full ownership of it in the divorce settlement. By selling Gavin the licensing rights—no doubt knowing full well what a power-hungry misogynist he was—Luca had to have sliced a knife right through the aortic artery of the woman who’d helped found the company.
“I’m sending HR up,” Leigh said.
“That will save me from having to send the email with my documentation. Thank you,” Gavin said, not sounding the least bit sincere. “My office, Kinsey. Now.”
He turned and walked through the clear glass doors of the lab. He didn’t look back, but if he had, he would have realized that Kinsey was still in the hall, the bottom of her chin just about rubbing the floor.
“Billie,” Leigh said. “We need HR up here as quickly as possible so he doesn’t try to pull any of his shit.”
The other woman didn’t pause typing out a message on her iPad. “Already on it.”
Leigh took Kinsey by the shoulders. “Gavin’s an ass. I’m sorry. I promise I’m working on it. I just have to get through this mediation process and then…” She glanced over at the lab door, her jaw tensing. “Well, then things will be different. He’ll be gone. I promise.”
Kinsey’s gut was somewhere around her knees—despite the fact that she wasn’t a confrontational person. That was part of the reason why she’d come up with Todd in the first place. Having a fake fiancé killed a lot of conversations before they could even start. All she wanted was to go to work, do the job, and go home to… Well, lately that had been to have inappropriate fantasies about her best friend’s older brother.
“It’s okay,” Kinsey said. “I’m sure everything will work out.”
Was she offering assurance or trying to convince herself? A bit of both? Yeah, totally a bit of both. Taking in a deep breath before exhaling it slow and steady, Kinsey straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and shot Leigh and Billie a smile she hoped looked more determined than shaky, then headed into the lab.
Gavin was waiting for her in his office, which meant he hollered “come in” when she knocked and then ignored her for a full three minutes while he typed on his keyboard. Several of the other folks in the lab had a pool going about this move of his and if he was actually doing any work or just typing “Gavin Longshield is number one” over and over again on a blank document.
Finally, he stopped typing and leveled a glare at her. “Tell me, Kinsey, did you take the job planning on stealing for your buddies at Beckett Cosmetics, or did you just luck into it?”
She flinched. She couldn’t help it. The accusation landed like a smack across her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He scoffed. “My information is incorrect? You aren’t living with Morgan Beckett in some ridiculously expensive apartment rent-free?”
Heat rushed up her body so fast, she was surprised she didn’t spontaneously combust. “It’s only until I can find something else.”
She’d never thought about how people would view her living arrangement. She’d met Morgan as just Morgan, and they’d become friends because of their snarky sense of humor and love of journaling, stickers, and planners. It hadn’t been about what Kinsey could gain from it, but that’s where Gavin’s brain went with it, and he’d delivered the accusation with such scathing contempt, she almost felt as if she had done something wrong.
“Of course it is,” he said with a sneer. “It wasn’t as if anyone could just accidentally find herself in such a situation. Life seldom works out that way unless it’s all been planned.”
“I’ve known Morgan for years,” she said, her voice shaking with the effort to suppress the dizzying mix of her emotions that went from shock to anger to fear that this could be the universe’s way of paying her back for the lies about Todd.
“And what better way for a dirt-poor girl from Podunk, South Wherever to ingratiate herself with the upper echelons of Harbor City than to do a little corporate stealing?” He placed his palms flat on his desk and leaned forward. “I’ve been working day and night for a year on Fontaine de Jouvence. This moisturizer will change the market and make billions. It is revolutionary, and I will not have you ruin it because Suzy Social Climber wants leverage.”
She shook her head, blinking rapidly because she would not give this jerk the satisfaction of angry crying in front of him. “You’re wrong about me.”
“I doubt it.” He turned back to his keyboard and started typing. “Just know I’m watching you. If any more of my notes in the system are accessed by unknown parties, you will be caught. Also, don’t think people in the lab aren’t talking about your cozy relationship with the Becketts. That’s not the way you want to go if you plan to be respected around here. Everyone is already questioning your ability to do this job, what with that horrendous Southern accent—why add to the problems because of your associations in light of this leak?”