She raised her head, looking at me with questions in her eyes. "No." There was something about her expression that told me she knew there'd been no signing bonus.
"I'll talk to Ms. Curtis about it. And of course, I'm paying for your time tonight."
There was a flash of heat in her eyes. "I don't need a handout, Mr. Dunsmore." She let out a breath. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful about your offer. But it's important to me that I succeed on my own."
I nodded, liking her will and gumption.
“Everyone who works for me earns their keep.”
She nodded. “Good. That’s what I want.”
By the time we left the restaurant, I knew enough about her to feel better about her being my assistant in terms of the job that needed to be done. The fact that I found her intriguing as well as sinfully sexy would still be a problem. But I couldn't fire her because my dick liked her. That wouldn't be fair to her. And of course, it sounded like she was financially strapped. So, I would just have to find a way to manage my libido.
The next fewdays into the following week went smoother with Ms. Pearson. That wasn’t to say I wasn’t abrupt or gruff with her. I was that way with everyone. But her insights into the board members gave me rejuvenated hope.
I sent her, as well as the rest of my staff, home mid-day on Christmas Eve. The board members’ heads would likely explode to see an empty office, but there was no work to be done. Banks and most other companies we did business with were closed. They’d be back tonight for the party, which was even more reason to give them time off.
It wasn’t a good habit to get into, but I had a shot of whiskey before entering the boardroom. I covered up my intake of liquid courage with a breath mint.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” I said, sauntering into the boardroom like I owned the place, which I did. Or nearly.
“Where is everyone?” George Keyes, a likely traitor in my midst, said.
“It’s Christmas Eve, George. Or should I call you Scrooge?” Or how about Brutus? Or Judas? There were a few lifted brows at my impertinent remark, but none laughed. I sighed and sat at the head of the table. In my father’s chair. I hoped it would grow on them about who was in charge, but they still looked at me like I was a usurper.
“Your father never—”
“My father is in prison. Perhaps if he had more Christmas spirit, he wouldn’t be there.” I was pushing it, I knew, but I was tired of these motherfuckers.
“Maybe we could just get started,” Simon Jones offered. I still hadn’t figured him out. He normally sided with the board, but he sometimes would say things that suggested he supported my ideas. Ms. Pearson hadn’t been able to learn anything interesting about him.
“Yes. We understand that your business trip was a failure,” George said. Now that I thought about it, he really was a lot like my father.
“I didn’t come home with anything but potential for the future. Did you tell my father that when you visited him in prison?”
Two board members’ brows shot up in surprise as they looked at George. George glowered at me while the other members, including Simon, looked down and cleared their throats. More traitors.
“He could run things better from prison than you are here, son.”
I nodded. “So you keep telling me.” I looked at each of them. “Do all of you support continuing to run a corrupt company?”
“That’s overstating things,” Simon said. “Yes, your father could be ruthless, but he didn’t break the law.”
I laughed. “So why is he in prison?”
“That had nothing to do with us.” George waved his hand, and I wanted to reach across the table and strangle him for acting like what happened to Amelia wasn’t important or a part of the business.
“Bullshit, and you know it. You know he wanted to use Max Clarke to help the business.”
“I don’t know why we have to rehash this. Your sister and Mr. Clarke are fine. If not for your father, they wouldn’t—”
“That’s bullshit too. Don’t go acting like drugging people is everyday business. Or is it?” I stared at them all again. A few had the good graces to look uncomfortable.
“This is not why we’re here.” George’s face reddened. “We’re here because you’re right. Your father’s deeds have put a negative light on the company. But you’re not helping, Jimmy.”
I gritted my teeth. I hated being called Jimmy. There was nothing wrong with the name, per se. But whenever anyone called me that, it was to infantilize me. I was no child.
“What am I doing or not doing?”