A Private Affair Read online

  And you care, because? She clasped her hands together on her desk and nodded as if giving his statement due consideration. “Hmm.”

  “My job is to allay any worries and concerns and I don’t feel I succeeded conveying that to you. You seem very worried.” He paused. “More than the rest.”

  “I apologize. I’ll take care to guard my emotions more carefully next time.” If there is one.

  He leaned back. “That’s not why I’m here. I don’t want you to hide how you feel. I want to know why.”

  “Why I’m worried?” she asked just to clarify.

  He nodded.

  “You already know the answer to that.”

  “I’d prefer to hear it from you.”

  “What you want to hear from me is how worried I am about the fate of the company, the market and all that you discussed, but that doesn’t faze me because,” she quickly added, anticipating his question, “unlike you, I don’t deal with numbers, I deal with people. The human factor. The fuzzy science of emotion. You have the luxury of cutting this or cutting that without seeing the impact, but telling someone who’s worked at Simus Labs for years that they no longer have a job will be painful for me.”

  She took a deep breath and clasped her hands tighter. “I am excellent at my job, but I can’t do the hard part of letting people go with a smile or insincerity. I am worried about the lives that will be changed by this takeover, the health and wellbeing both mentally and physically of the people affected by your so called ‘friendly’ takeover, because there’s nothing friendly about losing a job.”

  He blinked with all the interest of a man listening to a weather report. She could be fired right now and although she was afraid—she had an apartment she loved and bills due—she knew a part of her would be relieved. She didn’t think she could stomach working under such a man.

  Riverton crossed his legs and glanced around her office. “I knew I wouldn’t be popular,” he said with an unmistakable tone of amusement. “I didn’t take this job for that and I know acquisitions come with feelings of distrust.” His gaze met hers. “But you can’t stand me, can you? Not just what I do or what I represent, but me.” He rested a hand on his chest, but although the motion was casual it really was a challenge as was his granite hard gaze.

  Carissa wanted to agree with him, but she knew she couldn’t admit her true feelings and keep her job. Besides, her personal feelings didn’t matter, there were others she had to consider. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  He narrowed his eyes, but she could tell nothing from his expression. She could only hope he would swallow her lie or at least let it pass. He seemed like the kind of man who could ignore what he didn’t want to hear. After a long moment, he nodded. “Yes, my apologies. So I can depend on you,” he said more as a statement than a question.

  “Yes.” She wanted to say no. No, you cannot depend on me to make this transition smooth. No, you can’t depend on me to quiet the herd so that you can swing your ax. But if she wasn’t here there was no one else to look after the employees—people like her uncle. So she kept her composure and said what was expected. “Of course.”

  He nodded then opened his briefcase and took out a piece of paper. He scanned it for a second then handed it to her. “I need the personnel files on these people. Bring them to my office tomorrow—ten o’clock sharp. I’m on the top floor, third office on your right.” He stood. “I look forward to our first meeting.” He held out his hand.

  Carissa reluctantly shook it, oddly disturbed by how soft his hand felt. For some reason she’d expected calluses. “Yes.”

  Once he’d gone, Carissa looked at the paper and saw a list of names. Eight names with their positions in the company listed next to them. Her heart fell when she saw the sixth name: Mia Wexler.

  Chapter Three

  “Does this spinach taste fresh to you?”

  “Did you even hear a word I said?” Carissa asked her boyfriend, Morris Howell, hoping not to sound as shrill and angry as she felt. She sighed. She’d just spent the last several minutes sharing how terrible her day had been and her fears of upcoming layoffs and how much she wanted to weep. She’d shared the awful feeling she felt that she might lose her job and how that didn’t bother her as much as the thought of telling her mentor that she’d soon be out of work. She’s laid her heart bare and all he could think about was his salad. She’d thought a dinner date at a nice restaurant would have lightened her mood, but so far he was proving her wrong.

  “Yea, sure,” he said frowning down at the spinach leaf on his fork. “I’m just trying to figure out where this puts us.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He glanced up at her. “Why? Did you pass gas or something?”

  “No,” Carissa said through clenched teeth. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

  He returned his gaze to his spinach, shrugged, clearly making the decision that the spinach was edible, then put it in his mouth and chewed. “Maybe it’s the dressing.”

  She knew he could be particular about his food. He was particular about a lot of things like how his clothes were pressed, the thread his tailor used, the temperature in his house, but she wasn’t in the mood. “Do you want to be left alone?” she asked.

  He set his fork down. “No, sorry.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand with a half smile of apology.

  She felt her annoyance fade. “That’s okay.”

  “It’s just that if you lose your job, that’s going to affect our five year plan.” He picked up his fork again and stabbed at his spinach salad. “The lack of income would put more pressure on me, but you’re resourceful so I don’t see you unemployed for too long. Maybe a month.”

  “Morris,” she said with a low warning.

  “Okay three.”

  “Morris,” she said again, feeling her annoyance return.

  “You’re right,” he said wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “You might not lose your job at all and there’s nothing to worry about. In another year we can confidently buy a house then get married.”

  Carissa stared at the attractive man in front of her, reminding herself that she loved him. Most of the times. But at times like this, she wasn’t even sure she liked him very much. She knew he was a good choice. Great marriage material. After two failed ones, she should know. He was gainfully employed and liked to think ahead. Neither of her exes had and she felt privileged that he’d looked past her lack of a college degree. Most men she’d been interested in couldn’t see past that supposed flaw. He also saw past her blue collar background. She knew on paper they looked like an odd match. He was a PhD candidate from an upper middle class family. She’d come from a blue collar background, was twice divorced without a degree.

  The men she was interested in usually only saw her high school diploma, blue collar background and two divorces. She’d married early, right out of high school because she’d wanted to get out of her father’s house. That marriage fell apart when her husband’s side business, as a drug dealer, got him put away. Her second marriage was to a man who was twenty years her senior and lasted five years, until she started having her own opinions. Like her father, he didn’t like that. He liked his women quiet and subservient, but by twenty-six she was ready to speak. She left him and started as an administrative assistant at Simus Labs working her way up to her current position. At thirty-four, she was one of the youngest department heads in the firm, but she had proven herself. She liked the freedom of having her own money and living her own life. But at times, she felt caught in two worlds. One world where she aspired to be and the other one in which she lived.

  She’d liked Morris because he was so unlike her exes. He was always thinking ahead, but sometimes too much so. Like now, she just wanted him to support her, she wanted to share how she felt, not reflect on how what was happening would impact their future. And for the first time she wondered if she really had a future with him.

  “What if
I quit?” she asked keeping her gaze focused on her plate.

  Morris smiled as if she’d said an amusing witticism. “But you won’t.”

  “What if I did?”

  “Actions like that are done by reckless or lazy people. Not people like us.”

  People like us. At least he’d put them in the same category. That was good right? “So you’d be angry.”

  “I know takeovers are stressful,” he said, reaching over and squeezing her hand again, but this time instead of soothing her, she felt more annoyed. “But you have to be calm.”

  She pushed the food around on her plate. “I hate the man I’ll have to work with.”

  “You’re not being paid to like him.”

  True. His words were practical and reasonable, that’s why she liked him. That’s why he was successful. Unfortunately, right now she didn’t care about being practical, she wasn’t in the mood. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I’d like to get married now.”

  “I told you that—”

  “It’s been three years. We can afford to get married.”

  “Fine, you want to move in together. Let’s—”

  Carissa shook her head. “I didn’t say move in, I said get married.”

  Morris adjusted his tie in a quick, smooth movement then leaned back in his chair. “I don’t see what the rush is. You’ve already done it twice.”

  Again his words rang true, but for the first time they hurt. Because, although they were factual, this time the tone was tinged with an emotion she hadn’t heard before—judgment. And as she looked at this successful man she decided to be practical and rational also and face the truth. “You don’t want to marry me, do you?”

  “I never said that.”

  “Then why do you keep mentioning my divorces? Do you think I’ve forgotten that I’ve had two marriages crash and burn? Do you think it’s stupid of me to want to pledge my life to yours?”

  “Look, nowadays marriage is just a piece of paper. You know I’m committed to you,” he said leaning forward and reaching for her hand.

  This time she moved it out of reach. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m giving you a way out.”

  “I don’t want a way out. I’ve invested three years into this relationship. Move in. I’m asking you to live with me, how much more of a commitment do you want?”

  Carissa stood to leave, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. “Obviously a lot more than you can give.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked watching her put on her coat.

  “What does it look like?”

  “At least wait for the bill so we can split the cost.”

  So like him, always missing the big signs for the minutiae. It didn’t matter that she was breaking up with him or that she was angry. He didn’t want to pay for her grilled chicken salad. She pulled out a fifty. “This should cover it.”

  He pulled out his wallet. “I have some change—”

  She grabbed her handbag. “Goodbye Morris.”

  “I’ll call you later.”

  She swallowed a scream. He still didn’t get it. She sat down in front of him and clasped her hands together. “Morris, this is what we call a break up. There is no need for you to text me or call me because we’re no longer a couple. I will pack whatever items you have at my place and mail them to you. I’d request you do the same.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “It would be cheaper to drop them by.”

  She shook her head then started to stand. He grabbed her arm, forcing her back down. “You can’t do this to me.”

  “Let go.”

  “I put up with a lot to make this relationship work. I don’t want to start all over again with someone else. I don’t know what I did wrong, but you owe me a second chance.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Is there somebody else? Is that why you’re finding an excuse to break up with me?”

  “It’s not an excuse.”

  “Then what is it? I haven’t changed. You know what I want. You know I’m not ready to get married, yet you’re using emotional blackmail to get what you want. It’s not like you to be this selfish.”

  “That’s not—”

  He let her arm go. “I said I’ll call you. I’ll give you a week to get over this mood or whatever it is you’re going through, and then we’ll discuss moving in together.”

  “Morris.”

  He stood. “Nobody leaves me—ever,” he said.

  That’s when she saw a look of rage she’d never seen before—one that truly frightened her. Where had this come from? He left and it took Carissa only a few seconds to realize he’d left her to pay the entire bill and he’d taken her fifty with him. A petty revenge. She hoped making her pay the bill would be all she’d have to experience with him. She didn’t want any more drama.

  As she calculated the tip, Carissa replayed the scene in her mind and found it funny. He was just angry and defensive. Not scary, she’d known him for three years. He could be petty when he didn’t get his way. She should have expected this kind of tantrum. And he was right. It was unfair to push him to change. He’d always been honest with her and expressed what he wanted—and what he didn’t want. If he’d said he would marry her now, would that have made her feel better? The problem wasn’t him. It was her.

  She was bored—suddenly restless. Tired of the status quo. Seeing the henchman today made her shine a light on her own life. She wasn’t really important. She could lose her job any day, just like her uncle had, and all that she’d struggled to build could fall away. Her boyfriend—now ex—preferred to focus on his salad than her concerns. Marriage wouldn’t have changed that. All she knew was that she felt stuck and wanted a change—a good change—but she didn’t know how.

  ***

  Carissa York was going to be a problem. He should have just fired her. He still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. Kenric sat in a bar, among the sounds of ice cubes clinking at the bottom of a glass, the low murmur of voices and the smell of wood. He didn’t know where the smell came from because nothing around him—from the tables to the panels on the wall—seemed genuine as he sipped a drink not wanting to think about anything, but unable to stop his mind. It was his second bar that evening. At the first one, he’d caught the eye of a woman he shouldn’t have and then spent twenty minutes finding a way to escape, and he didn’t want to go back to his corporate apartment yet, but at least he was out of the hotel.

  He felt on edge, as if something was about to happen. He knew she didn’t like him. He was used to that and didn’t particularly care. What truly bothered him was that she felt important to him somehow. He felt as if by just meeting her, his life had changed. He didn’t know how or why, just that something was different and he didn’t want that. He’d worked hard for this. Rivertons were always successful. They got the job done. Then why had he even paid attention to her in the conference room? She didn’t stand out. She was pretty, but not head turning with her black corkscrew curls fashioned high in a bun and a shapely figure. Her response when he spoke to her in her office had surprised him. It was more passionate and eloquent than he’d expected. It made him curious about her. He didn’t like being curious about a woman. That was his brother’s territory.

  He took another sip of his drink. What did it matter? He wouldn’t be here long anyway. Simus Labs was just another stop in his varied career and soon he’d be onto his next assignment. Barra Industries kept him busy. As one of their many VPs, he was used to this process. Over the past several years they’d acquired ten small companies, so he was used to dealing with wariness and fear, even anger. He’d gotten his tires slashed and once had a woman throw a can of soda at him.

  But Carissa’s reaction bothered him more than those two instances because she didn’t look angry or wary. He saw disgust in her eyes. That was not an emotion he was used to inspiring in a woman’s gaze. She didn’t like him and he knew it was personal, he
just couldn’t figure out why.

  He knew her background. She’d risen up the ranks through hard work. Maybe she was jealous. That wouldn’t have been unusual. He’d learned early that people would try to make him feel guilty for his success and money. His parents had taught him and his siblings that money didn’t make the world go round, but it definitely greased its wheels. People like him helped make jobs, but there were times, like mergers, when he couldn’t keep everyone.

  A woman like Carissa York wouldn’t understand that. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t matter.

  Kenric finished his drink then swore. Unfortunately, he was eager to see her again.

  Chapter Four

  She didn’t remember how she made it home. Which route she took, or if she’d gone through any red lights, but before she knew it she was walking up to her apartment. Carissa looked up at the five story structure with pride. It was her sanctuary. It was the first thing in her life that was truly hers. She’d chosen the complex for its crisp manicured trees and shrubbery, well lit parking lot and gated entrance. But most of all, she loved the windows which now reflected the golden polish of a setting summer sun. It wasn’t the size of the windows that entranced her, although they were large and beautiful. But what she loved the most was that they didn’t have any bars. All her life she’d lived in places where when she looked out a window all she saw was crisscrossed black metal obscuring her view—both looking in and looking out. Now those bars were gone.

  “Carissa!”

  She stopped a few feet from the entrance to the building, turned and saw Ashley Torville, a pretty twenty-one year old with light eyes and dark skin, waving at her from her car window. She gestured to a parking spot then motioned for Carissa to wait before driving off in her orange Kia. Carissa sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for visitors and hoped the Ashley didn’t plan to stay long. Minutes later, Ashley rushed up to her, holding a plastic bag and looking as if she’d returned from a day at one of Virginia’s beaches instead of a hard day at work. Carissa could only hope that she’d changed her clothes before coming here, and hadn’t taken casual Friday to an extreme by wearing flop flips, tight jeans and a pink billowy blouse. She rarely saw Ashley, although she also worked at Simus Labs because Carissa had recommended her for a position, as a favor to a family friend. She’d been Ashley’s babysitter when her family had lived next door to Ashley’s family in the old neighborhood. So when she needed a job, Carissa had been eager to help, especially after hearing that Ashley’s mother had suffered a stroke and two years later still had limited speech and mobility.