Page 20 of True North

I stopped at the threshold to his office, leaning on the doorframe with my arms crossed. “Marty, it’s not even eight in the morning. If you want to talk to me you’re going to have to change your tone.”

For all his bluster and nonsense, Marty wasn’t a terrible boss. He wasn’t great, either, but beneath the passive misogyny there was a backbone made of jelly donuts, so at the very least, I could put him in his place when he went overboard, or simply when his voice started to grate on my nerves.

He gnashed his teeth, his jaw ticking with anger. “Would you please come here?”

I gave him a bright, beaming smile. “Well, if you’re going to ask so nicely.” I moved to take a seat in front of his desk, and to my confusion, Angela took the one right beside me.

I shifted my bemused attention from her to Marty, holding my hands up in a placating gesture. “Look, I know what you’re going to say⁠—”

“In sincerely doubt that.”

I arched a single brow in challenge. “You’re mad because of Matthew Wilkes.”

Marty’s face fell in disappointment that I’d been right and he was wrong. “Fine. So then you know why I’m pissed.”

I stiffened at that, narrowing my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “Actually, I don’t. I’d think you would be happy to lose a client who turned out to be a sexist pig who borderline harassed one of your agents.”

He froze for a beat, his back going straight and causing the buttons that were already putting in too much effort to strain farther across his ever-growing potbelly. “If that’s the case, why haven’t you made a complaint?”

Oh, this asshole. “Well, Marty, I haven’t made a complaint yet because I’ve been off work since it happened. I handled it myself but had every intention of coming in this morning to make a complaint to you.”

Heaving out a sigh, he dropped his elbows onto his desk and scrubbed at his face. “Christ. What a fuckin’ mess.”

I let out a huffing laugh of indignation. “Not really. I would think you’d want to put the safety and wellbeing of your agents over a client who turned out to be a raging asshole.”

“He may be an asshole, but he’s an asshole whose money we needed.” That was one of the many problems with Marty. He tended to value money over anything else.

“If you think I’m going to⁠—”

Angela jumped in then, the next words out of her mouth explaining exactly why she’d followed me in here. “I’ll do it.” She was bouncing in her seat like an eager little bunny on speed. “I’ll take him on as a client.” Her face twisted up in a haughty sneer, her disdain for me dripping off her in oily little puddles before shifting her focus back to our boss. “I’ll give him a call and clear this whole mess up,” she said, her tone indicating it was a mess of my making. “And I’ll make sure he’s happy, boss. You have my word.”

The tension he’d been carrying melted away, and his pudgy frame sank deeper into his chair that was already being tested to the max groaning under his weight. “All right, Angela. Wilkes is yours if you can get him back.”

“Marty, I⁠—”

I was cut off when Angela let out a little squeal of victory and shot to her feet. “I’m on it. Don’t worry, Marty. I’ll take care of everything.” She might as well have skipped out of the office for all the excitement radiating off her.

Jeez. The woman really got off going head-to-head with me. But that wasn’t something I could concentrate on currently.

“Marty, what the hell?” I asked as the glass door to his office closed behind her.

He looked at me, nostrils flaring. “The hell is that we can’t afford to throw a whale like Wilkes back into the water because he made you uncomfortable.”

My mouth dropped open I astonishment. My brain struggled to wrap around what he just said. “Uncomfortable?”

“Iris—”

“The man didn’t make me uncomfortable, Marty. He actually scared me a little.”

That got his attention, his back going stiff. “Did he touch you?”

“No, he didn’t touch me.”

He sank back with a roll of his eyes. “Christ, Iris. You’re being dramatic.”

The fire that came with being a redhead mixed with feminine rage to stoke the flame deep in my belly. Rising to my feet, I leaned forward and slapped my hands down on his desk, making him jump. “I’m not being dramatic, asshole. I know a predator when I see one, and Matthew Wilkes is a predator. And you just served Angela up to him on a silver platter.” My anger grew with each word until I was practically yelling in my boss’s face.

Unable to handle confrontation (especially of the female variety), he shrank back into his chair to try and put more distance between us.