Inappropriate by Vi Keeland
Chapter 4
Grant
“Mr. Lexington, it’s so good to see you.”
Ireland’s head swung back and forth. If I’d had any doubt about whether she’d known who I was in the coffee shop earlier, the confusion on her face now confirmed she’d had no clue.
“Did he just call you…”
Bickman appeared at Ireland’s side, and I glared at him. “Give us a moment. I need to speak to Ms. Saint James.”
Ireland’s eyes lit up. “You son of a bitch. You knew who I was the entire time?”
Bickman was still standing behind her like I hadn’t just told him to beat it. “Did you not understand what I said?” I growled at him.
“Sorry, Mr. Lexington. Of course. I’ll go back up to my office. I’m on the eleventh floor if you need me.”
Yeah. You’ve done enough already. I told the security guards to go back to their posts and went to take the box from Ireland’s hands. “Let me hold that.”
She pulled it away from my reach. “You’re Grant Lexington?”
“I am.”
“And you knew who I was at the coffee shop?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“God, I gave my number to a liar. That’s worse than a serial killer.”
“I never lied to you.”
“Yes, but you neglected to mention the fact that you’re my boss’s boss’s boss.” The box she held started to slip, and she almost fumbled it. “Oh God. Our emails! We’ve exchanged emails, and you didn’t think it was relevant to mention who you were when you knew who I was?”
“I honestly didn’t know who you were when I first walked over to take the empty seat. But I would’ve mentioned it at lunch…”
She shook her head. “Lunch? Screw you. Better yet. Screw your whole damn company.”
Ireland walked around me and stalked toward the door.
“Ireland!” I called after her.
She kept walking. I probably needed my head examined, but watching her out Bickman and tell me off made my dick twitch. It was even better than the current view of her sexy ass as she tore out of my building.
I smiled and shook my head. Maybe we were both a little nuts. “So I’ll call you about our lunch date later then?” I yelled after her.
She raised a hand without looking back and gave me the finger.
I chuckled.
My gut told me it wouldn’t be the last time I saw Ireland, but for the moment, I had other pressing things to attend to.
***
“Mr. Lexington, it’s nice to see you. I’m sorry you had to witness the unfortunate events in the lobby. We had a disgruntled terminated employee who wanted to make a scene.”
A young woman popped her head into Bickman’s office. She didn’t immediately notice me since I was standing to the side of the doorway. “Can I go back into my office…” She spotted me and trailed off. “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”
“It’s fine,” I said with a nod.
Bickman made the introductions. “Siren, this is Grant Lexington. He’s the President and CEO of the company that owns our little station.”
“Oh. Wow,” she said.
I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Bickman puffed out his chest. “Siren’s just been promoted to on-air reporter.”
So this is the unqualified woman Ireland was going off about?
Bickman told the woman she could continue moving into her new office, and I watched his eyes drop to her ass when she turned around. Once she was out of earshot, I confirmed my suspicion.
“Is she Ms. Saint James’s replacement?”
The asshole looked proud. “Yes. She’s a graduate of Yale and…”
I cut him off. “How did you get ahold of Ms. Saint James’s vacation video?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do I need to speak more slowly? How. Did. You. Get. Ms. Saint James’s. Vacation. Video?”
“I…uhh…saw it on social media.”
I arched a brow. “On her public social media?”
“No, her private Instagram account.”
“So you’re friends on social media then? Since you can see things posted to her private accounts?”
“Yes. Well, not technically me. But I have access to an account she’s friends with.”
“Elaborate.” I was starting to lose my patience.
“I have some social media set up in an old employee’s name. A basic profile.”
“So you’re telling me you’re using someone else’s name to stalk all your employees’ private social media?”
Bickman tugged at the knot of his tie. “No. Just the troublesome ones.”
“The troublesome ones?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t need to tell me any more. Ireland hadn’t been exaggerating. This guy was really a piece of work. I walked to his desk, picked up the receiver to his phone, and pushed a few buttons. When Security answered, I said, “This is Grant Lexington. Can you please come up to the eleventh floor? I have a terminated employee you need to escort off the premises.”
When I hung up, Bickman still didn’t seem to get it.
I put my hands on my hips. “You’re fired. You have until Security gets up here to clean out your desk, which I’m pretty sure is more than the amount of time you afforded Ms. Saint James.”
The dumbass blinked a few times. “What?”
I leaned in and spoke slowly. “What part of you’re fired didn’t you understand?”
Bickman said something—though I don’t know what the hell it was, because I walked out of his office and went to the woman I assumed was his assistant based on where she sat.
“Are you Bickman’s assistant?”
The older woman looked nervous. “Yes.”
I looked down at the nameplate on her desk and extended my hand. I guess I really should’ve stopped by this building more often. Half the people didn’t even know who I was. “Hi, Carol. I’m Grant Lexington, the CEO of Lexington Industries, which owns this station. I work in our other offices across the street. Mr. Bickman is no longer with the company. Don’t worry about your job, though. It’s safe.”
“Okay…”
“Who covers for Bickman when he’s on vacation?”
“Umm… Well, Ireland used to.”
Great.“Well, who is the most senior person besides Ireland?”
“I guess that would be Mike Charles.”
“And where does he sit?”
Carol pointed to an office.
“Thank you.”
I spoke with Mike Charles and put him in charge, and then I watched as Security escorted a flustered Bickman out of the building. When I was done, I went back across the street.
Millie stood as I entered and followed me into my office, reading me a list of calls I’d missed and some other shit that went in one ear and out the other. I took off my jacket and rolled up my shirtsleeves.
“Can you please send an email to my sister to let her know I fired Harold Bickman in Broadcast Media? Mike Charles is going to hold the reins while things get sorted out over there.”
“Umm…sure. Though the last time you hired someone for Kate’s division, she wasn’t happy. She’ll probably be in your office within ten minutes once I call.”
I sat down and blew out a deep breath. “Good point. I’ll tell her myself. Ask Kate if she can come across to my office to talk.”
Millie eyed me over her notepad. “She’d probably like it if you went to her for a change…”
Millie was right. My sister definitely begrudged that she always had to come to me. “Good point. Tell her I’ll be coming over to talk to her in ten minutes.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Can you also send a messenger with an apology letter to Ireland Saint James? Tell her I’ve reviewed the circumstances surrounding her termination and to be back at work by Monday.”
Millie scribbled in her notebook. “Okay. I’ll get right on that.”
“Thank you.”
As she got to the door, I thought of something else. “Can you please add a dozen roses to go with the letter to Ms. Saint James?”
Millie’s brows drew together, but she rarely questioned my judgment, and she’d already commented on how my sister was going to react. So she scribbled more in her notebook and simply said, “Will do.”
***
The next afternoon, Millie walked into my office carrying a box of flowers. She looked nervous. My name was scribbled across the top of the box in red marker. “These came for you via messenger just now.”
I opened the long, white box and unwrapped the tissue paper. Inside were a dozen roses, but all the heads had been cut off the stems. A folded piece of stationery lay at the top. I picked it up and opened it.
Keep the flowers. I’ll need a fat raise if you want me back.
—Ireland
I laughed out loud. Millie looked at me like I was nuts.
“Can you please call Ms. Saint James? Tell her I don’t negotiate via messenger. Set up a lunch meeting for today at La Piazza at one o’clock.”
***
I looked at my watch. If it were anyone else, I’d have walked out the door by now. Yet fifteen minutes after my scheduled lunch, I was still sitting at the table alone, drinking a glass of water, when Ireland Saint James walked in. She looked around the restaurant, and the hostess pointed to where I was seated.
As she made her way toward me, she smiled. It caught me off guard when my heart started to pump faster. Unlike yesterday and in the clips I’d watched, today her hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail. It showcased her high cheekbones and full lips, focusing attention on just her face. Some women needed window dressing in the form of hair and makeup, but Ireland was even more beautiful without that shit. She had on a royal blue silk shirt and a pair of black slacks. The outfit was pretty conservative, yet she still managed to snag the eye of every man and woman as she made her way through the dining room.
I stood and tried not to let her see how much her appearance affected me. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry. I was early, but when I walked out to my car, my tire was flat. I had to grab an Uber.”
I extended my hand. “Please sit.”
Ireland took her seat, and the waiter came right over. “May I get you something to drink?”
I looked to Ireland. She smirked and unfolded her napkin. “I don’t usually drink during the day, but since I’m unemployed, not driving, and he’s paying, I’ll have a glass of merlot, please.”
I tried to contain my smile. “I’ll just have a sparkling water.” I glanced at Ireland. “Since I am gainfully employed.”
The waiter disappeared, and Ireland folded her hands in front of her on the table. Ordinarily, people deferred to me to lead the conversation, but this woman wasn’t ordinary.
“So,” she said. “I spoke to my attorney, and he says I have a case against your company for harassment, breach of contract, and emotional distress.”
I sat back into my chair. “Your attorney? And who might that be?”
“His name is Scott Marcum.”
I knew the name from her background investigation a few years back. He’d been her boyfriend at the time. I wondered if they were still together.
“I see. Well, I came to offer you your job back, with an apology and perhaps a small raise. But if you’d rather go through our attorneys, that’s fine, too.” I started to get up from my chair—calling her bluff.
She fell for it. “Actually, I’d rather not deal with attorneys. I was just letting you know what mine said.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Letting me know so you can use it as leverage against me?”
She folded her arms across her chest, mimicking my stance. “Are you going to sit down so we can have a conversation or stomp out like a child?”
The woman had giant balls; I had to give her that. If she only knew how her attitude made me want to take a peek between her legs and check for some. We stared at each other for a full sixty seconds, and then I caved and sat down.
“Alright, Ms. Saint James. Let’s put our cards on the table. What is it that you want?”
“I heard you fired Bickman. Is it true?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like the methods he used to monitor his employees.”
“Good. Me either. Plus, he’s a dick.”
My lip twitched. “Yes, there’s that, too.”
“Did you follow me to the coffee shop?”
“No. And for the record, I don’t follow women or my employees around. I happened to walk in to grab a cup of coffee. My phone had rung in the car, and the connection was bad and dropped the call. I needed to compose a text to the caller so she wouldn’t worry.”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were when you realized who I was?”
“I already answered that question for you the other day. It was a coincidence that I sat down at your table. And then when I realized…I was intrigued about what you might say.”
The waiter brought her wine and my water, and Ireland alternated between watching him and looking at me.
“We’ll need a few minutes,” I said. “We haven’t looked at the menus yet.”
Ireland’s eyes were on me again when the waiter disappeared. She seemed to be mulling something over.
“Any other questions?”
She nodded. “Who was on the phone?”
“Pardon?”
“You said you were on the phone while you were driving, and the call got dropped, and you didn’t want the person to worry.”
I sipped my water. “My grandmother, not that it’s any of your business. Are we done with the interrogation now? Because I was considering putting the drunken emails you sent me behind us. But if you’d like to rehash every last interaction we’ve had, we can discuss those, too.”
She squinted at me and drank some of her wine. “I want a twenty-percent raise, and consideration given to Madeline Newton for Bickman’s position.”
Interesting.I scratched my chin. “One thing at a time. I’ll give you ten percent.”
“Fifteen.”
“Twelve and a half.”
She smiled. “Seventeen.”
I chuckled. “That’s not the way this works. Once you go down in a negotiation, you don’t get to go back up if you’re not liking the way things are going.”
She frowned. “Who said?”
I shook my head. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you your fifteen, but for that, you’ll also have to sign a release form, giving up your right to any potential lawsuit for anything Bickman might have done during his tenure.”
She thought about it. “Okay. That’s fair. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t going to sue you anyway. I think our society is litigious enough. Plus, I don’t like dealing with lawyers.”
“What about Scott Marcum?”
“Especially Scott Marcum.”
Good to know. “So we have a deal then?”
“As long as you’ll give consideration to Madeline Newton for Bickman’s position. She’s the best person for the job, and has been passed over twice.”
“If she applies, I’ll make sure she’s given due consideration.”
“Thank you.” She put out her hand. “Then I guess we have a deal.”
I shouldn’t have noticed how tiny and soft her hands were, how much her skin felt like silk, but I did.
I cleared my throat after we shook. “I’ll let Mike Charles know you’ll be taking the reins back immediately. I have to admit, I’m surprised you won’t try for Bickman’s position yourself.”
She shook her head. “I’m not ready for it. But Madeline will do a great job. Unlike Bickman, she’s smart and fair, and people respect what she says. Well, actually, to be fair, Bickman was smart, too. Just not when it came to women.”
This woman just kept surprising me.
“You thought Bickman was smart?”
She nodded. “He was. It was everything else that was horrible.”
“How did you two manage to co-exist for so long if he was that bad?”
“He was rude and demeaning, and I got my joy from the little things I did that drove him nuts. I pretended it balanced things.”
My brows narrowed. “What little things?”
She smirked. “Well, he had certain pet peeves. For example, he couldn’t stand when someone tapped their foot. It would make him turn the color of a tomato while he held in exploding about it.”
“Okay…”
“So I would tap my foot and watch the vein in his neck pulse when he pissed me off.”
My brows rose.
“He also once mentioned that he hated when people wore too much perfume or cologne. So I kept a bottle in my desk drawer for those times when I saw him ogling a woman’s ass. I’d douse myself before going into his office and pretending I needed help with a story.”
“Creative,” I said.
“I thought so.”
Ireland Saint James had a wicked side, that was for sure. I probably shouldn’t have, but I found it rather sexy.
The waiter came back over to take our order, but we still hadn’t checked out the menu. “Have you decided yet?”
Ireland held her menu up to the waiter. “Actually, I’m not going to be staying for lunch. So it’s just Mr. Lexington.”
“Alright.” The waiter nodded and then turned to me. “For you, sir?”
“I need a few more minutes.”
After the waiter walked away, I raised a brow. “Not hungry?”
“I’m always hungry. But I need to change the flat to my spare so I can drive the car to the tire shop. My roommate has to work at three, and she’s going to give me a lift back home so I don’t have to wait there. Last time they took hours, and now that I’m employed again…I have a ton of work to catch up on.”
I nodded. “Do you have AAA?” I wasn’t sure why the hell I’d asked. Was I going to go over and roll up the sleeves of my custom-made shirt and change it for her if she didn’t?
“No. But I know how to change it. I’ve done it before.” She laughed. “I once went on a date with a guy who got a flat while driving me home. He’d never changed a tire, so I changed it for him.”
I smiled. “I bet he didn’t get a second date.”
She finished off her wine. “Definitely not.”
My mind conjured up a quick flash of Ireland changing a tire. Only she wasn’t changing some guy’s tire while dressed for a date. She had on a pair of Daisy Dukes, a shirt tied in a knot exposing a fuck of a lot of tanned skin, her hair was in pigtails, and she had a smudge of grease on her cheek. The grease was fucking hot.
I shook my head and cleared my throat. “I’ll let people know to expect you back at work.”
Ireland stood, and I followed suit. She extended her hand. “Thank you for getting involved. Obviously, you didn’t have to. Especially after the horrible emails I sent.”
I nodded and shook. “I think everything worked out the way it should have.”
She gathered her purse and started to walk away, then turned back. “Oh…and I gave you my number for lunch. Obviously this means I can’t go out with you.”
“Of course.” I smiled. “Turns out you’re not my type anyway.”
Ireland narrowed her eyes. “And what exactly is your type?”
“The non-pain-in-the-ass type. Have a good day, Ms. Richardson.”
