I pushed open the door and went to the sink, putting my trembling hands beneath the water, rubbing them together, trying to calm down. I thought I heard something, someone so I stood up taller, steeling myself for one of Missy’s cronies to come out, ready to report back that she’d successfully gotten under my skin. But the door swung open and it was Mia.
Mascara making dark streaks down her face. Mia, falling apart.
I took a step in her direction, wanting to say or do something to let her know that everything would be okay.
She threw venom that stopped me in my tracks. “What the hell are you looking at?”
She stomped past me without another word, yanking open the door and leaving me wondering why I even tried.
But I couldn't shrug it off. She needed help, and not of the 'or else' variety.
****
Natasha was watching me pace back and forth in the lounge area with this little smirk on her glossed lips that told me Missy had already talked to her about the meeting.
Missy's harsh words...Mia's face...
I'd spent the past hour wondering if I should do the very thing Natasha's smirk dared me to do. Play the Jacob card.
Under normal circumstances I would never. Ever since it was made public that I dated Jacob, I knew that my co-workers minced the few words they spared for me, worried any comments might make their way back to him. There was a part of me, the piece that kept walking the strip between the sofa and table, that thought I would be tattling. That if it were under different circumstances where I didn't have a close relationship with the boss, I would handle this situation differently. I'd take my grievance to the source and we'd settle it as professionals. But I'd tried talking to Missy, politely suggesting that maybe we try a position that was a little less boot camp and her response had been to keep my mouth shut. I was a secretary, and her word was law.
But I'd seen the fallout from her heavy handed intervention with my own eyes. Mia’s face wasn't that of someone that was close to realizing the error of their ways. She was a girl on the verge of collapse and Missy's words were just the shove to knock her over the edge.
So yeah, I was considering playing dirty, but I could worry about Missy's ego or I could worry about the client.
I stopped pacing.
You knew what you were gonna do as soon as you saw Mia's face.
I put one foot in front of the other, not backing down from Natasha's death stare. "Is Jacob in?"
She ran a hand through her white blond hair. "He is. Is he expecting--"
I didn't wait for whatever obtuse or hidden threat she could work into her next statement, starting down the corridor. I knew she was on my heels, talking about how I needed an appointment and how I still owed him professionalism even if we had a personal relationship.
I almost laughed. Professionalism? Like she was some stellar example of it, all but saying ‘nanananana’ in a sing song voice for the past fifteen minutes. But not even the desire to give her a piece of my mind could outshine the purpose of my unscheduled meeting with Jacob.
I swore he was in the exact same spot he'd been in when I left before the meeting. I opened my mouth but Natasha had already muscled her way to the front.
"Mr. Whitmore, I informed Miss Montgomery that you were very busy, but she insisted."
I had to bite back amusement at the fact that her volume went from loud and sure to barely audible by the time she got to ‘insisted’. Probably because his eyes left his paperwork as soon as she said my name.
He didn't even have to say a word before she turned around and left, closing the door with a click.
"How was the meeting?"
It was pretty obvious he knew it was a train wreck. If the little awkward exchange between Natasha and I wasn't a dead giveaway, the stress filled expression on my face and the single arched brow on his, was.
"We started off with a bang. The client was thirty minutes late."
The arch dropped immediately. "This is about Missy."
The fact that he knew she was in the center spoke volumes, but I nodded slowly to confirm it.
"I get that she's rough around the edges and gets the job done." It was probably the reason she survived the purge after Jacob took over. Even then, he must have seen an invaluable asset to Whitmore and Creighton. Every successful company had a Missy behind the scenes; someone willing to get their hands dirty and cut through the bull.
"But?" Jacob said, waiting for the next bit.
"I think she may have gone too far today."
He steepled his hands beneath his chin. "What happened?"
"She pretty much told Mia Kent she'd become a p**n star if she didn't do exactly what she said."
"A... p**n star?" Jacob repeated slowly. He dropped his hands to his desk. "Surely she was speaking metaphorically. Followed it with a laugh or joke of some sort?"
I could tell from Jacob's reaction that he was trying to make sense of it and the more he worked over the situation, the angrier he became.
His voice took on the low, dangerous tone that always had everyone scurrying for cover. "You can't be serious. She couldn't have been serious!"
I'd already crossed the biggest hurdle. I worried he'd appreciate her tough as nails approach and tell me the client needed a dose of reality. He'd done the opposite...but he was still glaring at me like he wanted to shoot the messenger.
He rose from his chair, buttoning his jacket with a precise, controlled movement. But his eyes betrayed him. Jacob was about to chew Missy out.
I took a tiny step back, but knew I needed to explain the real reason I came here. Even though I was aware that Missy would throw me under the bus if our roles were reversed, I didn't come so he could string her up.
"Nine times out of ten, her angle would have worked. But Mia is not some jaded celebutante that needs a stern talking to." I moved back to where I stood, finding my groove. "She's eighteen. She's just a kid. And she's terrified. Scared straight isn't the right way to handle her--she needs understanding. We need to remind her that she is wasting her potential and headed down a dark path, sure...but not by berating her."
I waited for him to respond, not sure if he saw so much red that my words didn't register or was contemplating what I said.
He played his cards close to the chest, his eyes, his face unreadable now. I had no idea which way the wind would take him. Would he march downstairs and give her the same talking to she gave Mia? Would he take my words to heart and ask for my suggestions? It was all guesswork. I held my breath and crossed my fingers for door number two.
"I take it Miss Kent was far from receptive?"