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I hate being pitied.
“If she got you, don’t blame yourself,” he drones on. “It’s a nasty business when romance is mixed with something as cold and calculated as spying. But that’s how it’s always been. Heck, during World War II, the British domestic counterintelligence agency made a whole science out of it. And I suppose business is war, in a way. It’s a fight for profits, am I right? A battle when you come down to it. There’s only so much money to go around. That’s why we see these aggressive tactics come up sometimes. It ain’t pretty, but there you have it.”
“I need you to stop making theories about the nature of business and give me facts. Your sources—they’re trustworthy, you say?”
“I know they are. Like I said, hear a story from one, and you can’t quite call it a fact. But two or three, like I’ve done? That’s a scoop you can count on. That’s why I put in the groundwork. Pound pavement. I put in the hours, Brock, believe me. Heard it from multiple people: they all said they’d seen Gwen Temple with their own eyes, right there in Clarice’s office… the two of them scheming away, thick as thieves.”
“I don’t believe this.” I scrape the back of my neck with my fingertips. “You’re sure.”
“Positive. Take my word for it. You said you have a lawyer involved, right? I recommend you call her immediately.”
He claps my shoulder, then launches into the logistics of how to pay him—as if I can think about invoices right now.
I can’t.
I’m filtering the last four days through my mind, trying to figure out how I got tricked.
Fooled.
Blindsided.
I let her into my home, into my life, into my heart.
Brian leaves, and I stumble back into the elevator. When I get to my office, I snap at Diana, get her and the team out, and close the door.
For the next two nightmarish hours, I conference via telephone with my lawyer, who works out of her office in Manhattan.
By the end of the call, I know what I have to do.
I have to fire Gwen Temple.
Not only that, but my lawyer advised me to have HR pull the trigger rather than have the discussion myself. I was honest with my lawyer about the complicated situation with Gwen and how lines had been crossed.
Her advice to keep my distance is logical but heartbreaking.
It’s with a heavy heart that I pick up my cell and ring Elizabeth Rixon.
Chapter 19
Gwen
I am so behind on scanning and digitally filing the shipping forms. They’ve piled up to the point that now I have two or three mindless hours of work ahead.
I usually try to stay on top of them to avoid this exact situation. However, this week has been… different.
Very different.
I have ignored this growing pile of forms because of my other duties.
I shuffle the papers and try desperately not to think about those other duties. I was supposed to take Brock’s calls this week, not fall in love with him.
I grimace, and think about what I just witnessed, up on the fourth floor, a couple hours ago: Vanessa, cozied up to Brock in his office doorway.
When the executive assistant phone rings, I sigh and set the shipping forms aside. Kate’s name is on the screen.
“Hey, Kate.”
“G-G-Gwen?” A very wet-sounding sniffle travels through the phone. “Is my brother around?”
