Beg For Me: Chapter 34

Lorraine, the human resources manager, is a woman in her mid-sixties with steely gray eyes, frizzy gray hair, and a wardrobe consisting entirely of black clothing. Her outer appearance matches her personality, which is as gloomy as a rainy Winter’s day.

I can tell the moment I walk in the door that she’s dreading this conversation as much as I am.

She says somberly, “Hello, Sophia. Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”

I sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair across from her desk, wondering if the ugly thing was brought in just for me. With the harsh overhead lights, the chill in the air, the cold slab of plastic under my butt, and her unfriendly stare, I might as well be down at the police station, locked in an interrogation room.

A “chat,” my ass.

This has hatchet job all over it.

“I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to the point. When we met last for your performance review, you expressed a desire for more than the salary increase presented. I’m pleased to share this new offer with you.”

She slides a piece of paper across her desk toward me. Frowning, I glance at it. A new offer? This isn’t what I was expecting.

Aware of her steely gaze tracking my every movement, I pick up the paper and scan its contents. Surprise jolts through me, but I don’t outwardly react.

“This is a substantial increase.”

“Thirty percent, to be exact. Quite a bit better than the eight percent originally offered, I’m sure you agree. You’ll also note your benefits have been expanded to include double the amount of paid time off, life insurance valued at three times your annual salary, and an improved deferred compensation plan for tax advantages.”

Her expression gives nothing away, but I smell a rat.

Why am I not being fired? Why this, now?

Looking at the offer more closely, I notice something strange. “Tell me about the security detail.”

“In light of recent events, we thought it prudent.”

“Recent events,” I repeat, watching closely for her reaction.

If I thought she’d equivocate, I was wrong. She says bluntly, “If you’re going to be followed by the paparazzi, you need protection. They can be very aggressive. It’s standard procedure for executives with raised profiles. Your daughter will be provided protection as well.”

I blink, startled at the mention of Harlow. “My daughter?”

She stares at me coldly for a beat before saying, “I’m sure her safety is your priority.”

Her accusing tone makes my hackles go up. Is she suggesting I’m negligent?

“Of course, but—”

“She’ll be followed by men with cameras who want to sell her picture to the highest bidder. From now on, you’ll both be hunted, for lack of a better word.” Her voice softens slightly. “And I’ve seen your daughter. She’s a very pretty young girl. She’ll be an irresistible draw to those vultures…and to whatever degenerates see her pictures and want a closer look.”

I sit with my mouth open, staring at her in cold shock.

The thought of Harlow being subjected to what I felt when I saw the tabloid pictures of Carter and me is horrifying. And to think she might be followed…watched…

Hunted.

My blood runs cold.

“I can see you hadn’t considered that.” Looking smug, Lorraine leans back in her chair and folds her hands over her stomach. “Fortunately, the security company we’re contracted with is extremely competent. You’ll be in good hands with them.”

I try to take it all in, but it seems I’m missing something. The last time I spoke with my boss, he was furious with me about dating Carter. He said he’d have to speak to the company’s legal, making it sound as if my future at TriCast was in doubt.

Now, he’s offering me more money, better benefits, and bodyguards?

My mind whirring, I slowly push the paper back across the desk. Then I mirror Lorraine’s posture, leaning back against my chair and clasping my hands.

“What’s the catch?”

Her smile is small and satisfied. She knew that question was coming. She reaches into her desk drawer and withdraws another piece of paper, which she wordlessly presents like it’s a fat stack of cash.

I take it from her, noticing immediately the title in large black print declaring it’s a binding non-disclosure agreement.

“I signed an NDA when I was hired.”

“There are a few updates from the previous version.”

That sounds ominous, so I look closely at the document, going over each line and section carefully. When I arrive at the end, I laugh in disbelief.

With a flourish of the paper in her direction, I demand, “Is this a joke?”

“No. Those are the conditions of the offer.”

“Everything in here is unethical, not to mention unfair!”

Her answer is as dry as unbuttered toast. “If there’s one thing age has taught me, it’s that life is unfair.”

Simmering in anger, I read aloud from the paper in my hand. “Monitoring of personal phone calls, messages, and private life.”

She nods. “In order to ensure you’re not discussing trade secrets with the competition.”

Unbelievable. “Approval of all public appearances.”

She nods again, as if that’s entirely reasonable.

“How would that even work? Do you expect me to give you a schedule of my intended whereabouts at the start of every day? Am I supposed to send a text message to my surveillance team when I’m going for a walk, headed to the gym, out grocery shopping?”

“That sounds like a good start, yes.”

“That’s ridiculous! And what about this bullshit about holding me accountable for anything Carter does that you find…what’s the word?” I peer at the paper again. “Objectionable?”

“I thought that term was overly broad, but nevertheless, that’s what was decided on.”

“Approval of all social media postings? Never speaking about my relationship in public? Not attending any of the same industry events? This is lunacy! It’s totally illegal! Everything in this document infringes on my privacy and personal freedoms.”

“I assure you, it’s entirely enforceable. It’s been vetted.”

“By whom, a team of ruthless dictators who want to strip me of all my human rights?”

When she doesn’t reply and only sits there, gazing at me in stony silence, I stand and toss the paper back onto her desk. “I’m not signing that.”

“Then you won’t receive the salary increase or any of the benefits.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. I’m well aware that retaliation is illegal under California law. So is coercion. So is blackmail.”

“You’re not being fired. You just wouldn’t receive what you asked for. Employees ask for things all the time that their employers don’t accommodate. It’s simply business.”

“Let’s not play games. You’re trying to punish me for my personal relationship with Carter McCord.”

“No, we’re protecting our company’s interests and offering you a very generous compensation package in return.”

Though I’m fighting to stay calm, my palms are sticky and my chest is tight. My voice rises louder than I intended. It echoes off the walls, which suddenly feel too close. “This is a bribe. And I’m not having it.”

She studies me for a moment, taking in my stiff shoulders and clenched fists. Finally, she nods, as if she knew all along we’d arrive here.

“There is one other option. An option where you’ll receive all the benefits of the new offer but won’t be obligated to sign the new NDA.”

She gestures for me to sit. After a moment of deliberation, I do, eyeing her warily.

She remains silent so long, just staring at me, that I lose my patience. “So? What is it?”

“You’re a bright woman. Why don’t you take a guess?”

Maybe it’s the hint of amusement in her tone or the faint gleam of victory in her eye. Whatever the cause, I instantly grasp what she’s getting at and am rocked by the audacity of it.

“You want me to collect inside information from McCord Media. You want me leverage my relationship with Carter to gain competitive advantage for TriCast. You want me to spy on him.”

“Bingo. Give the girl a cookie.”

Heat floods my face. My cheeks and neck are burning, and I know they must be splotchy and red. “You’re disgusting.”

She waves a hand in the air dismissively. “This isn’t a popularity contest. I’m not running for public office. You’ve got a job to do, and so do I. Put aside your tender little feelings and look at the situation objectively. In a few months, when this affair with the playboy prince runs its course, you can either walk away with nothing or you can walk away with a vastly improved financial situation that will benefit you for the rest of your life.”

This woman takes the human right out of human resources. Employees are nothing but a bunch of cogs in a machine to her. For all her chilly interpersonal skills, she’d be better suited managing a cemetery.

My mother would love her.

I demand, “What did Hartman promise you to get you to do this? It had to be something big to risk the lawsuit you’ll soon be defending.”

Without batting an eyelash, she coolly replies, “My arrangement with Mr. Hartman is not your concern. As for a lawsuit, that would be extremely stupid of you, considering this conversation never happened, and I have witnesses who’ll attest to that.”

“Witnesses? There’s nobody in this room but us!”

“My two assistants will testify under oath that they sat in on this meeting, and the more problematic portions of this conversation never occurred.”

“Why the hell would they do that?”

Her answer is cryptic, as is her smile. “People are surprisingly cooperative when they understand what they’ll lose by saying no to me.”

“In other words, you’re blackmailing them too.”

“That’s such an ugly word. I prefer to call it informed consent.”

“Whatever you want to call it, it’s still illegal.”

She shrugs. “You don’t get to be the most successful media company in the world by playing by the rules.”

I see it very clearly, how low she’ll go to get what she wants. And in her position, with access to all the sensitive personal information she has on every employee in the corporation, the ways she can abuse her power to manipulate people are infinite.

I stand and glare down at her. “Second most successful media company in the world. McCord Media holds the top spot. And I’m not committing espionage for this company.”

She scoffs. “Don’t be so dramatic. This isn’t a James Bond movie. I’m not asking for military secrets. All I’m asking for are a few valuable pieces of information here and there. McCord Media is privately held and notoriously secretive, so any tidbits you can provide would be welcome. It would be so easy! Men are ridiculously susceptible to pillow talk. Think of yourself as a modern-day Mata Hari.”

Though I’d like nothing more than to wrap my hands around this awful woman’s throat and choke the life out of her, I grit my teeth and force myself to remain calm.

“You’re forgetting that Mata Hari was executed for treason. And I can’t believe you’d stoop so low. You’re supposed to be an advocate for the employees of this company, not corrupt and unprincipled.”

She makes a face at me, as if I’m a child who’s acting particularly naive. “My job is to protect this company’s interests. The end.”

“Even if that means putting the company at serious legal risk by engaging in completely unethical behavior?”

She waves that dismissive hand at me again. “We’re getting lost in the weeds. Here’s the bottom line: you have forty-eight hours to consider the offer. If you decline, you won’t receive another raise for the remainder of your tenure at TriCast, however long that may be.”

Her pointed look makes it clear they’re going to make it so unpleasant for me if I don’t comply that I’ll quit before being fired.

“And if you foolishly choose to bring legal action against us, you’ll be publicly exposed as a liar who attempted to engage in a shakedown of her employer for financial gain.”

“A shakedown? What nonsense are you spouting now?”

Her cold gray eyes glitter, and her voice drops to a menacing purr. “We’re aware of your brother’s situation. Gambling debts can be so ruinous, can’t they? Any loving sister might resort to extortion to help. And now there’s your elderly mother to support. She’s an odd bird, that one. Once upon a time, there were rumors that the bakery she and your father ran had ties to the Mafia. As a money laundering front, to be exact. And your ex-husband…” She tuts. “That’s quite a story. Embezzlement, coercion, fraud. Well, birds of a feather, as the saying goes. Everyone close to you exhibits an alarming lack of character. Except your daughter, of course, poor thing. A trial would be so hard on her. All her mother’s dirty laundry dragged through the streets…” Her smile is lethal. “She might never recover from the emotional toll it would take on her.”

I see I was wrong about my assumption that she was dreading this conversation. She’s loving the shit out of it. She’s probably got a clit boner from the power trip.

“Lorraine, you’re a raging bitch.”

“Thank you. But more importantly, I’m a realist. A woman my age has limited options. You’ll understand that soon, Sophia. You’re not a spring chicken anymore either. Think of your future. Think of your daughter. And do the right thing.”

I’m not a spring fucking chicken?

Enraged by the entire conversation, I pull my shoulders back and straighten my spine, staring down my nose at her with all the fury and disgust I feel.

“You’re right. I’m not a spring chicken. I’m not any kind of chicken. I’m not afraid of you, Hartman, or your threats. And if this does go to trial—and it will, because I’ll make sure of it—I’ll wipe the courtroom floor with you both.”

“Really?” She chuckles. “With whose money? Because attorney’s fees are outrageous, and everyone knows litigation is ungodly expensive. A lawsuit could drag out over years. Many years. Are you sure you’re in a financial position to handle that? You could be looking at easily half a million dollars. And all for a fling with a notorious playboy with the attention span of a squirrel who’s got a trio of pretty young blondes on speed dial for when you’re not around?” Her cruel smile oozes with satisfaction. “You really should’ve asked Nick for alimony.”

I’m sickened by the realization that Hartman has obviously done a deep dive into my personal life. Carter’s too. They’ve thought of everything. They looked for all the chinks in my armor, they gathered their facts and laid the trap, and now they’re offering me a honey pot laced with poison and threats of cold-blooded sabotage.

I see it all in a flash. The online smear campaign. The fake news stories. The hit pieces from “anonymous” sources about my family and my past, which they’ll be sure to make appealingly sordid. I see in vivid color all the ways they’ll retaliate to destroy my career and my credibility if I try to expose them or don’t go along with the plan.

They’re swinging an awfully big stick.

Mine needs to be bigger.

After a moment of silent deliberation, I say, “I can’t decide so quickly. At least give me until the end of the week. I need to think it over.”

Her tone turns dry. “Stalling won’t change anything.”

“You can’t drop this bomb on me and expect me to make a snap decision. I need a few more days. You’ll have my answer by Friday.”

She examines me with narrowed, suspicious eyes, then concedes. “Fine. Friday it is. But we’ll know if you contact an attorney or reveal this conversation to anyone outside this room.”

That makes me grind my molars. “How? Are you spying on me already?”

She merely smiles. “Be a team player, Sophia. You have nothing to gain and everything to lose by refusing.”

Including my honor, self-respect, and integrity, things she obviously knows nothing about.

I turn and walk out, biting my tongue.

Threats, spying, blackmail, intimidation… Hartman will sink to any low to get what he wants. He and his sidekick Lorraine are counting on me to fold under the pressure. They think they hold all the cards.

Too bad for them I’ve got an ace hidden up my sleeve.

The moment I’m down the hall and out of earshot of the receptionist, I withdraw my cell phone from the pocket inside my jacket. I hit the red button on the voice notes app to stop the recording, then rewind to the start and listen to the two of us speaking, loud and clear. My lips curve into a tight smile.

If there’s one thing I really hate, it’s being underestimated.