Grayson Patten III
“Jeannie, you will not believe what just happened. I just got my performance-” This blond beauty storms into my borrowed office, lifts these huge blue eyes, and her mouth drops open.
“Who’re you?” Her blush reaches to the top of her forehead as I stand and reach out my hand.
“James, ah… Statten. Head of Human Resources. And you would be?”
Warily, she steps forward and yet shakes with a solid grip. “Izzy. Sorry, I mean Isabella, Isabella Harte.”
Her arms cross over her well-endowed chest to where my eyes had wandered. She’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and painted-on jeans.
“Sit, sit.” After motioning her toward the guest chair, I slide back down into mine, quickly scooting forward to hide my politically-incorrect yet growing interest.
I wonder if she noticed because she backs away toward the door and glances around the small but neat office. “What happened to Jeanine?”
“I have no idea.”
Her eyes go wide. “Huh? How is that?”
Shit. Busted.
“Hold on. Let me log in.” I swivel the monitor to be sure that she can’t see, type a few keystrokes, and after a bit, blatantly make up a lie. “It says here she quit. Found a better offer.”
I feel like a total ass when she plops down in the chair, mouth turned down like she just lost her best friend. “Jeesh. She never said anything to me. That’s her kid’s picture on the desk, her awards are still on the wall…”
Isabella Harte suddenly jumps up and steps across the tiled carpet to the edge of the desk. “My God, you fired her, didn’t you!”
“Hey. Don’t blame me. I just got here.” She’s damn astute, though, and I’ll get to the bottom of this but not in front of my angry employee.
“Let’s stay focused, okay, Ms. Harte? What were you ranting about when you barged into my office?”
Immediately, I regret my phrasing, for her heart-shaped chin juts out further, her neck tics, and those beautiful eyes darken. “Ranting? I’ll tell you why I was ranting. You know, employees get rated on a one to five scale, right? I just got a fucking three. A three? I worked my ass off. I saved this company so much money but do I get credit? Hell no. Do you know what Dan said? I’m too forward. Confrontational? What the fuck? I’m not confrontational. I just tell people what they need to hear and most times I get blamed for the bad news.”
With that attitude and in this economy, she’s lucky to have a job. “Given the circumstances, a three seems quite adequate. Most people would be pleased.”
She paces the small space waving her hands in the air. “Hell no, it’s not adequate. I worked seventy-hour weeks. I brought the Prudential account home under budget and in half the time, not to mention Wells Fargo, Bank of America, and a couple others. I deserve at least a four point 0.”
“Ah huh. And did your manager tell you why you didn’t get what you think you deserved?”
She breaks away from my gaze and stares out the plate glass, down onto the grid-lock of lower Broadway. “Dan? Yeah, he did. Said my delivery was lacking, that some people think I need to soften my tone, that I’m… confrontational.”
I can’t help but smirk. “And this is how you prove him wrong?”
Her furious face turns back to me. “I’m no more confrontational than any man.”
“I see.”
However, I don’t. All I see is a beautiful woman with an axe to grind.
She no-doubt reads the look on my face. “No, sir. I don’t think you do. I spoke with three other developers and one project manager, all women, and they were told the same thing. Don’t you think that’s odd? I also have a lot of male friends, some who are a lot more confrontational than me and they did not get that called out on their performance review.”
As I think of what just happened to Uber and a couple other companies, a chill runs down my spine. “Those are serious allegations. Was that the only reason Dan gave?”
“No. My billable hours were down but Dan said he’d make sure I wouldn’t get dinged for it and yet here I am. I always get fours, dammit.”
She steps and leans over, her ample breasts almost resting on my desk. “If I file a complaint against him, you can’t fire me, right?”
“No… but you really should learn to talk out your differences with your manager.” Leaning back, I make a steeple with my index fingers and when I put the tips to my mouth, she rolls her eyes at my attempt to look engaged.
“Dan Masters really isn’t the type to take constructive criticism.” Brows raised, she’s daring me to disagree and I can’t. The man is a genius with customers but a hothead with his own staff.
Apparently done, her hand reaches to the door handle. “I can tell by the look on your face you’re not going to do a damn thing. Listen, ah, Mr. Statten, right? Forget it. Forget I said anything. I’ll just take it to a friggin’ lawyer and see what he has to say about it.”
What the fuck?
Vaulting over the cheap desk, I land in front of her and she has the good sense to cower.
“What did you say?” I seldom lose my temper but she just pushed all my buttons.
I don’t move when she tries to push me aside to get out the door. “It’s illegal to treat women differently than men, even in the software industry. You can’t tell the women employees that they need to tone it down unless you tell the males the same thing.”
“Maybe he did.”
“Yeah, right.” She looks at me like I’m worse than dog shit as I stare back.
There we stand, chest to chest, nose to nose, non-verbally daring each other to back down but I’m the one who made the huge mistake.
I stood too close.
Her sweet pheromones trickle up my nostrils and her heaving chest is too close. Her lips are too full, her eyes too damn blue, and hell, she’s just too fucking pretty.
Thank God, my upper brain engages because the one below my navel has something else in mind. I move aside to let her pass but not far enough and her breasts brush against me.
Ah damn, the black centers of her eyes are dark when she looks up at me.
“Sorry. I promise I’ll look into this. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. This really is a good company to work for.”
A sea of blue surrounded by thick blond lashes stare into mine for the longest time and my throat goes dry. I probably would’ve promised her anything right about now and that pisses me off.
“I tell you what. Take the rest of the afternoon off. Send me an email when you decide what you want out of life.”
“I sure will.” Her syrupy sweet smile matches her tone and she walks out the door.
Damn.
I lean against the wall and hit it with the back of my head. Then, I open the personnel records in our database and find Isabella Harte.
Apparently, Dad hit a home run when he hired her; salutatorian of her class, BS in computer science, graduated with a 4.0 GPA.
Overachiever.
I wonder how much of what she said was pure bullshit and check her previous year’s review. It’s true that under a different manager, she walked on water.
No doubt, she fucked the first one’s brains out to get that kind of rating and I bet the other women she mentioned were only trying to make her feel better. There’s no way, with all of our in-house training, that Dad’s managers would be so blatantly discriminatory.
Still, her threat worries me. I promised my father I’d take his company public and something like this could escalate.
Too bad she’s such a troublemaker. That Midwest, girl-next-door thing makes my blood run hot. I bet if she wore heels, she’d be the perfect height to pull against my hard-on. Then, her big blue eyes would half-close and those blonde lashes flutter…
Hell, no!
I force myself to reflect upon her accusations. If she actually says something to lawyers and it gets out, she could screw up everything.
I’m not about to let my dad down.
I storm into my COO’s office and close the door. “Xavier. We need to talk.”
As usual, he’d dressed in his California laid-back mode, with ripped jeans and a retro-band t-shirt. “Dude. Chill. It’s all good.”
His attitude isn’t cutting it with me, not today. “Isabella Harte is claiming that women are not being treated fairly.”
He sits up behind the shining oak, seemingly more interested but I wonder if it’s just for my benefit.
After a few clicks on his keyboard, her picture pops up on his monitor. “Relax, she’s always bitching about something. You’re the one who said we needed to be more selective about raises. She’s probably PMS’ing. She’ll be fine in a few days.”
I shut the office door hoping to God no one heard him. That kind of trash talk was fine in our frat house but this is real life. “Jeez Xav, you can’t say that kind of shit out loud. My dad is counting on us.”
He slaps me on the back and shoots me a grin. “I was just kidding. Why are you so uptight? Sit down. How is he?”
“Fine. I’m sure he’ll beat this thing.” It’s not true but it’s the answer that everyone wants to hear.
Swallowing back the huge lump in my throat, I change the subject to something I can control. “I got accountants lined up for this week. You ready?”
“Hell no. You didn’t give me enough warning but don’t worry. Go on up to the hospital. I’ll see to things here. You go take care of him.”
That’s exactly what I’m doing. Xavier doesn’t know the half of it and after this morning, I have no intention of telling him.
My dad may be a real trusting sort but me?
Not so much.