My eyes were beginning to feel sore, and tiredness was seeping into my bones. All I wanted to do was get away from this guy, curl up in my bed, and feel sorry for myself in peace.
I breathed a sigh of relief as we turned onto my street in Brooklyn. When we came to a smooth stop outside my building, I began to gather myself to leave the strangest car ride in automotive history. Not knowing what to do with the chocolate bar wrapper, I stuffed it into my purse.
“I’d like you to take the rest of the week off,” Branson finally said as his driver circled toward my side of the car to open the door for me. My ex-boss’s voice was utterly calm. “Come into the office on Monday and we’ll discuss options. My assistant will be in touch to organize it.”
I pulled my gaze from the driver’s movements outside to look at him again. “Other options for what?”
“I’m sure we can come to a mutually beneficial solution here, Ms. Little,” he said, his voice dark and silky. The light from outside cast half his face in shadow, carving out the space below his cheekbones and under his bottom lip. “My assistant will be in touch, and we’ll go from there.”
The door beside me opened. “Okay,” I answered, and I got out. The car didn’t pull away until I was inside my building, watching its taillights disappear around a corner from the lobby.
I trudged up to my first-floor apartment, locked myself inside, and collapsed on the couch. I had no idea what had just happened, but at least I’d gotten good chocolate for my trouble.
The meeting on Monday was another story.
Jared’s POV
“She’s playing hardball.” I bit off the words, meeting Arthur’s troubled gaze across my desk. Cole swore and spun around, shoving his hand through his hair. I pushed away from my desk and crossed the few feet to stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows in my office.
Dozens of stories below us, Manhattan squirmed with life. Pedestrians jostled on the streets and cars sped past in a frantic flow of life and energy.
I loved the city. Loved the chaos of it, loved how there was always something to see or do. I’d grown up feeling like a cast-off, like I belonged nowhere. Now, surrounded by the life and turmoil of the millions of residents of Manhattan, I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself.
I’d built something bigger than myself. The one thing I was proud of.
And she was going to take it from me.
From all the way up here, the mayhem on the streets was quiet. All I could hear was the quiet hum of the air conditioning, my computer’s fan, and the movements of the two men behind me.
“Explain to me again,” I said, watching a cab swerve around a bike messenger and speed around a corner, “why she was hired as an independent contractor.”
The tense silence that followed my request prompted me to turn. I met Cole’s gaze as he pinched his lips.
“Cost savings,” he finally answered.
I swung my gaze to the lawyer rubbing his forehead as he stared at the wood grain of my desk. “Arthur,” I asked, “how exposed are we, company wide?”
He grimaced. “You currently have a hundred and seven employees hired as independent contractors. From my preliminary review, at least ninety-three of them could potentially have a case for misclassification.”
“Which is?-“
“A violation of state and federal employment laws. An independent contractor would have their own office, insurance, logos, letterheads. They maintain their own schedules and have specific deadlines and tasks outlined in their contracts… They’re not production assistants running around in a company-owned studio doing tasks set out by their boss.”
“Like buffing a perfume bottle for a shoot.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
I met the older man’s gaze for a long moment, then looked at my second-in-command. “I want a thorough review of every employee in this company. Anyone who’s been hired as an independent contractor should either be let go if the terms of their contract have been satisfied, or they should be offered full employment with benefits.”
I’d never seen Cole look contrite. He exhaled, then dipped his chin. “Heard. But, Jared, the labor costs alone of?-“
“Arthur,” I interrupted, heat crawling up my neck. “What’s our exposure here? Give me a number.”
The old lawyer cleared his throat and adjusted his tie with careful movements. “Well, that depends on if each of them files independently or if we’re looking at a class-action suit. And then there’s the bad press and the cost of any lost contracts…”
“Give me a number,” I repeated, my voice hard.
There was a beat of silence before Arthur said, “We’re talking eight figures. And for someone like Ms. Little, who also has a case for retaliation since she was let go as a result of a workplace accident… Well, that alone could be disastrous. Even if she settled, if the press got even a whiff of this… It’s not a good look, gentlemen. Not a good look at all.”
Exhaling, I leaned my palms on my desk. Blood rushed in my ears. I could feel my pulse in my fingertips as I tried to pull myself back together.
I could see it: the end. The end of everything I’d built. The one thing I was proud of, gone. Destroyed by a vengeful woman in red lipstick.
Anger pulsed through me. Anger and something deeper, an itch I couldn’t scratch. She thought she could threaten me? She thought she could turn around and throw the book at my face because she felt like she’d been slighted?
She didn’t have the first idea what hardship was.
I held myself apart from people because this was how I thrived, and I refused to be brought low by the likes of her. Lifting my head, I met Cole’s gaze. “Fix this,” I told him. “Immediately.”
He nodded, then ducked out of my office. Arthur, grim-faced, waited for me to speak.
It took me another two breaths to get my temper under control to the point that I could say her name. Finally, I gritted out, “Ms. Little is coming in on Monday. I want you to sit in on the meeting.”
“What’s your game plan?” Arthur asked, braiding his fingers over the paunch of his stomach as he leaned back. He frowned his bushy brows, considering me. “If you say she’s ready to play hardball, how much are you willing to pay to make this go away?”
I pulled my chair closer and sat down, then woke my computer up with a press of the space bar. Calm descended over me like a weighted blanket. I hadn’t built this business without knowing how to react quickly to avert disaster.
Ever since I’d been a small child, I’d had to rely on no one but myself. I’d been born to stand on my own. This was where I thrived.
It was why I didn’t have a wife at my side the way Wilbur Monk wanted. It’s why relationships never lasted. It’s why I was able to take the privileges I had been afforded in the form of seed money from my wealthy family and turn it into something much, much bigger.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.