Page 138 of Sin
Richard looks up. “Sin.”
“Laurel Cross.”
Recognition flickers. “The one leading the new product launch?”
“Yes.”
He writes something down. I hate that. The scrape of pen on paper feels like a sentence being passed.
“How long?” he asks.
“Almost three months now.”
“Was she directly reporting to you?”
“Not officially.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“She reported through Tate for the product line, but I oversee the company. I’ve reviewed her work. Approved travel. Sat in meetings. Gave feedback on prototypes.”
“So yes.”
My jaw tightens. “Yes.”
He writes again.
“And the relationship was consensual?”
My eyes lift to his. “Completely.”
“I need facts, not offense.”
“It was consensual, Richard.”
“Any texts that support that?”
“Yes.”
“Do not delete anything.”
“I haven’t.”
“Good. Any threats? Promotions? Pay changes? Travel arrangements that could be argued as preferential?”
I look toward the window. Chicago sits gray and sharp below us. Let’s see, there’s Seattle, Amsterdam, my private jet, hotel rooms, locked offices…
Richard sighs. “Sin.”
“Yes.”
He leans back. “I’m going to say this plainly because you need plain. Divorce is one issue. The workplace relationship is another. Jenna may use both, but the shareholders and board will care most about the second.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” He taps his pen once against the pad. “You’re not just a man having an affair. You are the CEO of a company sleeping with a key employee during a major product launch. Even if she was willing, even if she pursued you, even if every part of it was mutual, there’s a power imbalance. A big one.”
The words land hard. Not because I haven’t thought them. Because I have. Every day.
