“I know. I’ve been up all night trying to decide what to do…”
“Have you thought about calling Bruce Rawson?”
Except for her shuddering breaths, she’s quiet for a really long time. “I can’t.”
“I don’t see another choice.”
“It’s complicated. It’s…” She lets out a frustrated huff. “Shit, I’ve come this far. You might as well know everything.”
My heart stutters, and suddenly I know she’s going to confess. It’s bittersweet. I wanted Sloan to open up to me. Craved her trusting me enough to give me her truths. And what the fuck does that say about my feelings?
But now that we’re here, I’m worried it’s too much, too soon for her. And once this genie is out of the bottle, she can never put it back in. Will she stop talking to me so she doesn’t have to confront the fact I know her dirty secrets? “Sloan… Baby, you don’t have to—”
“Bruce Rawson is my biological father. When I met him as a teenager, he blew me off. After I got my master’s, I approached him strictly for advice. He assumed I was there to blackmail him, so he hired me to shut me up. He’s never paid me a moment of attention after that.”
And suddenly I get what drives Sloan. “You’ve given most of your adult life and your ambition to win your father’s approval?”
The ugly cry starts again. “I’m just a poor little girl with stupid Daddy issues. Pathetic.”
Clearly, she isn’t ready to face him—and risk his rejection again. She’s upset about that, too.
I can’t afford to feel so sorry for Sloan that I fail to do my job, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to cut all the bastards in her life who are making her miserable. “You are not pathetic. You’re in a shitty position. Of course you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset,” she sobs. “I’m angry.”
Denial. I get that. She doesn’t want to admit that she feels crushed because she’ll also have to admit weakness.
“Baby, you have every right to be pissed as hell. None of this is your fault.” Yet I can tell she somehow feels responsible.
“I didn’t push harder for that report sooner. I didn’t ask more questions when I noticed all the VPs acting oddly after Shane took Bruce’s position.”
“You mean after your brother usurped your father. They’ve all made choices; none of that is your doing. If you had known and done nothing, I’d understand your regret. But you and I have been digging for weeks to get this much information. It was sheer luck that Carissa ran across something that would finally help this nightmare make sense.”
“What good does it do me to realize the company I’ve dedicated my career to is a house of cards I can’t stop from falling?”
The heartbreak in her voice is painful. “There are other employers. You’re no slave to Reservoir, and if the worst happens, you can soothe yourself with the knowledge that you were the only person who tried to stop its demise. If you’re worried that Daddy won’t ever love you because you didn’t save his company, that’s on him. He’ll have to live with the knowledge that he both allowed his worthless son to piss away his hard work and ignored the daughter who did her best to rescue it. But you can’t make him choose differently. All you can do is decide how to move forward for your best possible outcome.”
She doesn’t speak for protracted moments, but her breaths turn less choppy and audible. I know she hears me, and I’m sure she’s thinking. “If you were in my place, what would you do next?”
“Great question.” It’s really the only logical one, and I’m not surprised Sloan is already trying to think past her emotions and devise something both helpful and workable. “How much of the blackmail material do you have your hands on?”
“Just Smith’s. Carissa only showed me the footage because she was shocked to see my boss with this woman who clearly isn’t his wife, especially given the date stamp on the video.”
That’s not optimal, but even if she can get her boss on board, it’s a start. “Blackmail him.”
“Shane already is, and I—”
“Hear me out. Tell him that you’ll tell his wife about his indiscretion with the stripper if he doesn’t get you the dirt on all the other VPs and convince them to stand up to Shane collectively. If all the VPs rally to oust him, it might work.”
“I don’t know… Someone would still have to assume the leadership position, and after this fiasco, I don’t think any of them are qualified.”
“No.” If I ran that company for even five minutes, I would fire them all—not for their moral choices outside the office but for letting the whole ship go down so they could save their own asses. No one will convince me they didn’t drag out the release of that financial statement. They knew it wouldn’t survive scrutiny.
Vaguely, I wonder why Bruce Rawson hired Jeremy. Did he instinctively know that he couldn’t trust Shane and wanted to implement some oversight? Did he have some inkling that the company he’d spent his life building was quickly sinking? There’s a reason he hired McBride to consult…
“So who would run Reservoir? I love this place. You know I’ve given it my all, but…I’m not qualified.”
Sloan is underselling herself again, but I understand why she feels that way. Being CEO would be challenging as hell for her; she doesn’t have executive experience. But if anyone could put in the mental energy and elbow grease to make it happen, it’s her.