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His gaze dropped to a single sheet of paper on the desk. He picked it up. “I have something here I’d like to show you.”

He handed me the paper, and big, bold letters at the top made my stomach drop.

Fraternization Policy.

And at the bottom? My loopy signature acknowledging acceptance of said policy.

I knew breaking this rule would come back to bite me.

Lifting my eyes toward him, I kept my expression as blank as possible. “Why are you giving me this?”

He offered the faintest smirk. “I’d like you to read the highlighted portion. Out loud.”

I held his gaze, but he seemed disinclined to move forward until I did as he asked. After a deep breath, I read, “‘Number six. To avoid conflicts of interest and promote fairness, any supervisor, manager, executive, or other company official in a sensitive or otherwise influential position at Henley Distillery Co. is prohibited from pursuing a romantic or sexual relationship with any employee he/she supervises or whose terms or conditions of employment he/she may influence. Violation of this policy results in a conflict of interest, and the more senior employee will be subject to demotion or termination.’”

My heart sank straight to my pointy-toed boots.

Shep hummed thoughtfully. “Do you know who wrote that policy?”

“I could venture a guess.”

He let loose a quiet laugh. “My son always was one for fairness.”

Sitting in stony silence, I tried to quell the dread opening a chasm in my chest.

“I’m given to understand you recently received a bonus that was approved by the Director of Operations. Is that correct?”

I said nothing. What was the point? He already knew the answer.

“A rather hefty sum, but I suppose he thought you were worth it.” A beat of silence passed, and his eyes went colder than ice. “Was that before or after you opened your legs for him?”

Outrage built a fire in my chest, but I remained silent.

He smiled, joyless and cutting. “I could fire him for this.”

“You wouldn’t,” I whispered. Camden loved this place, this company. This was his mother’s family legacy. He’d be devastated to lose it.

Shep’s face hardened. “I would. I’d do more than that. If it were in his best interest, I’d remove him from his position and dissolve his trust. I’d sell this distillery to the highest bidder.”

Words deserted me.

He speared me with his sharp, gray gaze. “But I won’t do that…if you leave.”

My throat went dry. “You—you want me to quit?”

“No. I want you to leave him. I want you to turn down my wife’s ridiculous offer. I will pay you to leave us be. You’ll make more by leaving than staying with a disinherited man.”

Ice crept through my bones, shards of it slicing my insides with each breath. Did he really hate me that much? He’d take everything from his son or pay me off to get rid of me?

My mind went into calculation mode. It made little sense. For all his faults, Shep loved his son, and this would cause a permanent rift between them. If Camden knew his father—this man he loved and respected—planned to sell the Henley legacy just to rid himself of me, it would stab a knife straight into his chest.

Why are you doing this? I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t form. It couldn’t be simply from that city council meeting. This was visceral.

When I didn’t speak, Shep continued, “Nothing I take will hurt him more than having to watch you walk away smiling with his mutilated heart and half his material wealth in your hands. To keep you from breaking him, I would take it all away.”

“I’d never do that.”

He snorted. “Sure.”