Conflict of Interest (Employee Relations Book 1) (7 page)

My eyes slowly trace the few steps he had taken when he gracefully retreated, stopping when they land on the back of my door. “Oh, and he shut me in my office. Like I’m in a time out.”

“Seriously?” she scoffs.

“Seriously,” I confirm.

“Sorry, Gabs. I know you were really looking forward to meeting him.”

She’s right. I was excited to meet him. When his former HR partner emailed me late last week, informing me of what a stellar employee we were getting, and how lucky I was to have him working on our team, I assumed that meant he and Lucas had a good relationship. Now I wonder if they’d ever met.

I sigh and change the subject, not wanting to admit how thrown I am by Lucas’s behavior. “Where are you? You’re panting like a dog.”

“Brad asked me to meet him for lunch today, but had to cancel last minute. I’m two blocks from your office. Can you get away?”

Brad and Summer have been seeing each for almost a year. He lives in Connecticut but travels to Boston for business frequently and has an apartment here. I’m not a huge fan, but he makes her happy so I keep my mouth shut as much as possible.

I glance at the back of my door and sigh. Technically I should still be meeting with Lucas. Ducking out mid-day to wallow in self-pity isn’t my thing, but screw it. Getting out is exactly what I need.

“Lucky for you, my calendar’s suddenly clear.”

I hang up and slip back into my shoes. Smiling, I grab my purse and open the door to my office. My smile fades as soon as I lock eyes with Lucas, who stops mid-stride exiting through his own doorway. The good manners that have been ingrained in me since I was a child, beg me to make conversation and smooth over whatever misunderstanding lies between us. But the way he squares his shoulders, with his jaw firm, puts me on the defensive. I quickly tear my gaze from his, and instead high-tail it to the elevator.

“I’ll have the loaded bacon cheeseburger, cooked medium, with fries and a side of gravy.”

Summer’s eyes go wide.

“Stop judging me,” I warn, pointing my finger at her. “I’m in need of comfort food.”

She holds her hands up to fend me off. Biting her lip, she scans the menu again and laughs. “I’ll have the same,” she says, handing our menus to the waitress. “Alright. Spill already.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You’ve had some shitty business partners in the past. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Where should I begin?

“None of them were so upfront about despising my profession. It wasn’t just that he was dismissive. He acted like I was beneath him, like I’m incapable of understanding his role or the organization. And to top it off, he can’t even remember my name. I must have reminded him that I go by Gabby a handful of times. Does he call me Gabby? Noooo! It’s Gabriella,” I imitate with my best Irish accent.

“That’s pretty hot. I’d let him call me whatever he wanted.” She’s got a point. Even if his accent is diluted, his voice alone is seductive enough to melt a pack of Kerry Gold, if not my panties. In fact, I’m positive that’s how he’s gotten ahead in his career.

I groan. “You’re not helping Summer.”

“Are you sure you didn’t misinterpret?”

“He speaks English, there was no room for a translation error.”

“There has to be something else going on,” Summer rationalizes. “He just moved to a new city with what, a week’s notice? That’s a lot to deal with.”

“Pftt. His one and only goal was to make sure I understood who was calling the shots…and it’s not me.”

“Napoleon complex?” she poses and I have to laugh.

“I doubt there’s an insecure hair on his body, and he’s got to be over a foot taller than me.”

She folds her arms, leaning forward on the table, and wags her eyebrows. “Hot?”

I glance at her through my lashes while shredding a napkin and shrug. “I guess if you discount his personality, some might consider him attractive.”

She doesn’t need to know that I faked a phone call when I first saw him walk by so that I had time to compose myself before we met. Or that I could easily get lost in the depths of his piercing blue eyes. Spend hours running my hands through his thick, dark chocolate colored hair. Let him…wait, what the hell am I doing?

Stop it,
I scold myself.

Summer arches her perfectly sculpted brow as the waitress sets down our food.
Did I mention I’m not the best liar?
She doesn’t press the topic any further throughout our meal, and for that I’m grateful.

It’s probably for the better that he’s an ass. If he was half as nice to talk to, as he was to look at I doubt I’d be able to be in the same room as him. The sick thing is, it’d taken me too many minutes after he left to process that he’d essentially told me to screw off, yet I’ve spent half the day thinking about him.

We spend the next twenty minutes devouring our food and talking about our schedules for the next few weeks. Summer travels frequently, which is an aspect of her job I don’t envy.

“Did that make you feel better?” Summer asks when we’ve both polished off our entire meal.

“Up until the last bite,” I admit, rubbing my belly. “I might throw up.”

“Me too. You can thank me for jumping on your emotional eating bandwagon by going to kick-boxing with me tonight.”

“Deal. Hitting something sounds like a good idea.”

She watches me thoughtfully for several seconds and then sits forward. “I’ve been in your shoes a few times before. Having to find a way to break down a colleague’s walls.”

She takes a sip of her water and flags the waitress to let her know we’re ready for the check. “In one situation, the guy was just a prick. He’d been promoted to the executive ranks way too quickly and had a huge ego. No matter what I did, he wasn’t going to change. He treated everyone the same so eventually I was able to let it go.” She shrugs. “With Beth, it took a while to earn her trust and when I did it ended up being one of the best partnerships I’ve had. She’d had a bad experience with HR in the past and stereotyped anyone in the profession.”

Summer pauses to sign the receipt. “I guess what I’m saying is, hang in there and try not to take it personally. It’s frustrating but give him a chance.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Giving him the benefit of the doubt would be the mature thing to do.

“I’m always right.”

We step outside and finalize our plans to meet at the gym. “Oh, and one more thing. You’ve busted your ass to get where you are. If he turns out to be a prick, promise me you won’t let it consume you. Give it a shot and if it doesn’t work, let it go. He might fail without your help and he might not. Either way, if he’s not willing to partner it’s his loss. You’ll find a way to get recognized without killing yourself to get there or taking responsibility for a success that isn’t yours to own.”

Having Jack on my good side to help promote the program I’ve developed isn’t my only motivation for building a solid relationship with Lucas. Rumor has it that my manager isn’t coming back from maternity leave. How successful I am at filling her shoes in the interim will play a huge role in determining whether or not Jack thinks I’m ready to move up. It’s a huge role, no doubt about it. But I want it and I know it’s time.

But just because I have a personal agenda for pushing the partnership doesn’t mean I’ll treat him differently than my other business partners. I’d just rather it develop a little more quickly and after our first meeting, I’m a little nervous that it might not happen at all.

“I promise.” Summer knows that letting go of relationships, be it personal or professional, isn’t easy for me.

Walking back to the office, I stop for a coffee and think back to what Summer said. Maybe I had misunderstood what he said, or perhaps he’s just unnerved by moving to a strange new city and taking on such a huge role. By the time I step out of the elevator I’m convinced that approaching him to clear the air is a good idea.

I stand tall and head for our hallway. When I get to his door he’s heads down, writing in a notebook.

I knock.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you.” I smile when he glances my way and I swear he almost does too. “Do you have a minute?”

His phone rings before I cross the threshold and I’m disappointed that he looks relieved. He hasn’t shown me many expressions, and the ones he has aren’t encouraging.

“Lucas,” he answers curtly. He rises from his seat and confidently strides toward me till our shoes are nearly touching. His proximity combined with his towering presence and the intensity of his glare sends me backpedaling two steps into the hallway.

He lowers his phone to his shoulder. “I’m busy.” With his free hand he grabs the doorknob and shuts me out.

Again.

Returning to my office I replay our initial conversation for the hundredth time and circle back to my first conclusion.

Maybe he’s just a dick.

This is going to be harder than I thought.