Page 10 of Not Safe for Work
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“Then let me refresh your memory.”
He clicked play right where she least wanted him to: When she had said that thing about pressure detectors in the soles of her shoes. And it wasn’t just the words, either—it was the way she looked when she said them: flushed with the thrill of it; defiant, almost.
Suddenly she could see why Abel had been so attracted. Why he had called her that morning to ask to see her again. Not that any of it helped her now.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Ms. Elliot?” Hartford said.
And then it was back to thinking of excuses.
“In fairness, the heels are really uncomfortable.”
“Yes, and so is being confronted by this sort of behavior in a place of business. Look at yourself, woman. Eyes already half closed, lips already parted.”
“It just felt nice when he took them off, for goodness’ sake.”
“Oh, I see. Then pleasure trumps propriety in this scenario? You may do whatever you please simply because it feels good?” he asked, only he wasn’t really asking.
It sounded more like he was talking to himself.
And when he did, his voice cracked. It cracked so viciously that she glanced up, brow furrowed.
“I didn’t say that, Mr. Hartford,” she said, her tone a little steelier now.
While his voice descended into near chaos.
“No, but you implied it. You suggested in every touch you offered to him and every disgusting thing you asked him to do! Look at you there, with your breasts thrust out and your legs spread—it’s as though you barely care about your standing in this company at all!”
“Sir, I do care about my standing in the company. You know I do,” she said.
But he was no longer listening. His eyes were fixed on the screen.
“Look at you encouraging him, moaning and writhing.”
“In fairness, Mr. Hartford, he hardly needed any encouragement.”
“And yet you gave it to him, you pushed him to do the same in return—how could you? How could you?” he demanded, voice now so brittle she was sure one more push would break it. And she was right. He spoke three more words, and all of them were full of despair. “How could he?”
He stood up abruptly the moment they were out. Then, before she could say another word, he turned his back on her.
His visibly shaking back. Thomas Hartford was shaking.
She couldn’t carry on being indignant while he was shaking.
“Mr. Hartford, are you all right? Because I feel like you might not be. All right, I mean.” She turned the recording off and waited. But still he didn’t do or say anything.
“Not that it’s a problem at all, if you aren’t. I can just cancel your meeting at four and rearrange the conference call with investors from the Parkman Group. Call the car around, maybe, and have it take you home.”
Still nothing. So she stood.
She went to him and thought of putting a hand on his shoulder.
However, the second she actually did it, he spoke into the tension-filled air of the office.
“None of that will be necessary, Ms. Elliot. You’re fired.”
