“Run the numbers and let me know what we’re talking about, but go ahead and see if they’re willing to meet. I don’t have to tell you to do what you can to make this go away, Ben.”
“No, sir, you don’t.”
“Get me a solid settlement figure as well as talking points at least two hours before we meet. I’ll want to go over them with you and discuss strategy so we’re on the same page in there. You and me. No one else from legal.”
“You think that’s wise?”
“Unless you tell me it’s a dumb-ass move, that’s my plan. Appear as confident and in control as possible. Don’t give them even a crumb of proof this shit is shaking the foundation of Quantum Ventures.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How soon can you make this happen?”
“If they agree? I can try to get a meeting today.”
“Whatever it takes, do it.” And he hung up.
Leaning back in his chair, he locked his hands behind his head and propped his feet on the corner of his desk. Anyone who saw him would think he had everything under control. Superficially, he might. But he still had one huge problem to deal with. He was going to have to sit across the table from the attorney listed on the injunction, the attorney who had warmed his bed right before she sold him out for an office with a better view.
Rachel Sullivan.
The cabbie pulled up to the front of her office. “Twenty-seven even.”
She handed him thirty and got out, standing on the sidewalk and staring up at the glass-and-chrome high-rise. Her future, or what was left of it, waited beyond those doors.
She crossed to the revolving door and was in the process of entering the lobby when a single idea settled at the forefront of her mind.
What if this was all a bunch of smoke and mirrors?
Isaac had all the information on Caffeinated Brainiacs. He must have had an employee roster. Wouldn’t he have questioned the psychologist’s credentials and work historypriorto agreeing to fund the app’s development? Theoretically he would have had access to all the candidates’ applications...including hers. What if he had selected her knowing her firm had represented Date Me in previous filings, from the initial patent to the lawsuits corporations of its size were always involved with? He could’ve easily used his access to Power Match’s information to single her out and ensure that any suit brought forward was compromised.
But how could he have knownyouwould be the one tapped to represent Date Me?her subconscious whispered.
She ignored logic and embraced fury. Anger, so long as she managed it, would carry her much further than fear and its inherent weaknesses.
Whatever happened, she wasn’t going to let someone, boss or lover, browbeat her over something she had possessed no knowledge of. Period.
No man had the right to play her like a pawn on a chessboard. She had lived that life, suffered for it and she was done with it. Never again would she be any man’s pawn. If she was anything, she was a queen.
And it was about damn time the other players on the board realized it.
She headed straight to Jim’s office, where she tried to explain her actions. Jim wasn’t as sympathetic as she might’ve hoped. Once she’d finished speaking, he made a call, stood and directed her to the elevators. They rode up in silence, exiting on the top floor.
Rachel followed Jim to a large conference room she’d never seen before. A long mahogany table gleamed under unobtrusive lighting. There were only two unoccupied chairs on their side of the table. Across the massive expanse, perfectly centered and sitting shoulder to shoulder, were three older men, all of whom Rachel recognized: Andrew Taylor, Christopher Lord and Bradley Mitchum. They were the founders of what had become one of the most prestigious corporate law firms on the East Coast.
Jim sat down without looking at her, pulled out his pen and shuffled through his papers over and over, reorganizing them to the point his every action seemed absurd.
Rachel had a moment of stark clarity that struck so suddenly she almost laughed out loud.
Jim had always espoused teamwork and team values, claiming he would fight for any member of his team under any circumstance if they were in the right. Rachel had been honest with him. She’d done her best to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that she hadn’t been in the wrong for what had occurred outside the office, in her private life, without knowledge of the brewing conflict. She knew now that every word she had uttered had been irrelevant—nothing more than wasted breath. Jim wasn’t the man she had come to respect over the last seven years because he wasn’t the man she had believed him to be. Looking at him now, she knew with absolute certainty that he wasn’t here to defend her. He was here for the opportunity to distance himself from whatever she was deemed guilty of. And, on the off chance she salvaged what was left of her career, he would be there to stand up and act like he had believed in her all along. In the end, he would do whatever was required to save his ass.
Rachel was on her own.
Andrew Taylor gestured toward the plush chair clearly reserved for her. “Have a seat, Miss Sullivan.”
“Sir.” She sat and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap. She’d brought nothing with her. No cell phone, pad of paper, pen. Nothing. So she would sit and answer their questions respectfully unless—and until—they gave her reason to do otherwise.
Christopher Lord leaned forward, rested his forearms on the table and laced his fingers together. “I’m sure you know why we’ve asked to speak to you, Miss Sullivan.”