No, not good. Maybe, Paul, remember how I told you if you wore that Santa costume, your own mother wouldn’t recognize you? Uh-uh. Best leave his mother out of the discussion.
Before she settled on an approach, the door swung open and Paul walked into the office. He stopped short when he spotted her. “Chelsea. Hello. I guess Cindy told you I wanted to speak with you?”
God, he sounded tired. His normally smooth, combed-back dark hair showed wear and tear, and his glacier blue eyes bounced around the room as if afraid to rest in one place too long. Once again she thought of all the pressures he shouldered, and her gut twisted, knowing she was about to add to his stress. There was no way to sugarcoat this. Best to dive right in. “No. I’m here because, um, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Me first,” he interrupted, cutting her off mid-dive. “I need to get something off my chest. It’s overdue.”
After months of tense silences and secretive behavior, which she’d attributed to the—ha, ha—joke of an audit, he now had something to say that couldn’t wait? If he was so anxious to talk, why couldn’t he have taken three lousy minutes out of his day to tell her he’d given the Santa suit to someone else?
“Cindy is pregnant.”
Chelsea’s jaw dropped. “Cindy Ruffy, our director of human resources?”
Paul nodded.
On the heels of shock came unease. Why not make an announcement to the entire team? Why pull her aside for a one-on-one meeting? But even as those questions took shape, she admonished herself for finding fault. The woman was single, and, as far as Chelsea knew, not dating anyone. Her pregnancy would raise speculation—mostly of the unflattering variety—because Cindy’s throw-people-under-the-bus approach to her career hadn’t earned her many fans at Las Ventanas. Maybe she hoped a controlled distribution of the news would help minimize the gossip?
Paul seemed to be waiting for a response, so she said, “Goodness, I had no idea. I didn’t realize she was interested in starting a family, but, if she’s happy, I’m happy for her. Do we know the father?”
“Yes. Chelsea, I— There’s no good way to tell you this. I’m the father.”
She’d heard the expression “shocked speechless” before, but never truly lived it. Never experienced this strange paralysis where her lips and tongue disconnected from her brain. After a couple false starts, her synapses finally unfroze. “You and Ruff-Ruff?”
He frowned. “I know this comes as a shock, but I expected better from you.”
“Likewise,” she said, unreasonably proud her voice gave no clue of her crumbling heart. Then, before she could stop herself, she ruined it by asking the clichéd question. “Are you in love with her?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“Don’t go there, Chelsea. You’re a sweet girl. Dedicated. Generous. Trusting. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He made her sound like a golden retriever. “Then be honest with me. I deserve an explanation.”
He smoothed a hand over his hair, and sighed. “Cindy and I have a lot in common. Like me, she hasn’t spent her entire life within the protective bubble of Montenido. She’s bold and worldly.”
Bold? Worldly? “She’s from Fresno.”
“She goes after what she wants and she doesn’t let anything stand in her way. I’m like that, too. I’ve asked her to marry me, and she’s agreed.”
Truth lodged like a cold, hard lump in her throat. Neither the pregnancy, nor Paul’s feelings had snuck up on him over the past few weeks. This had been going on for a while, but he’d held off on breaking the news to her until the timing worked for him. “So while I slaved my butt off like a good little worker to help with a transaction I didn’t even know about, and you claimed to be tied up in meetings, you were actually sleeping with…her.”
He dropped into the chair beside hers and took her hand. “I didn’t plan this. Nobody’s at fault. There’s no one to blame. I deeply appreciate your support and loyalty as my career has taken off, but we’re in such different places now. You must sense it too. I hoped you would understand.”
She pulled her hand away and stood. “I understand completely.” He’d used her, strung her along for his benefit, and she’d been so eager to please him and win back the affection she’d sensed him withholding, she’d been pathetically easy to use. Granted, their relationship hadn’t been long, but she’d given it her all. She always did.
Clinging to her shredded pride, she shook her head and hurried to the door. She would not cry. Not here. She refused to let him see her fall apart. “I understand you’re not the man I thought you were. Good-bye, Paul.”
“Wait. You said you had something to tell me?”
She laughed, a bit hysterically, and opened the door. No need for true confessions on her part. What she had to say now would be quick, unrehearsed, and straight to the point. Without turning to look at him, she replied, “I resign, effective immediately. For obvious reasons, I decline the exit interview with HR.”
Chapter Four
Rafe fanned a handful of bonus envelopes onto Barrington’s desk. “These still need to be delivered to the employees.” From his seat in the guest chair, he absently studied the overblown desk and weighty bookshelves. Not his taste. It reminded him of a cut-rate version of his father’s office at St. Sebastian Enterprises’ New York headquarters.
Barrington glanced at the envelopes. “Leave them with me. I’ll have payroll mail them to the employees.”
“One is Chelsea Wayne’s. I saw her earlier today. I’d like to go ahead and deliver it. Can you direct me to her office?”
“She’s not here. Chelsea resigned shortly after the party.”
Shit. Had she resigned because of what happened in the supply closet? If so, what reason had she given Barrington? He couldn’t afford rumors of misconduct to pollute this deal. His father’s conditions for stepping down as chairman of the board had been very clear: three completed acquisitions, flawlessly executed and seamlessly integrated. Las Ventanas brought the count to two. At least it had, until this afternoon, when he’d given in to the rush of taking a risk. Now the goal he’d been chasing started spiraling out of reach like a fly ball he’d taken his eye off for one second too long.
“Resigned? That’s very sudden, isn’t it?” He kept his voice cool, despite his concern, and eyed Barrington until the other man lifted his head and returned his stare. “After all, she’s a rising star at Las Ventanas. We had plans for her.”
Barrington’s gaze slithered away and he cleared his throat. “I had to deliver some disappointing personal news to her today. Being unprofessional and immature, she reacted by tendering her resignation.”
The ground firmed under his feet and the trajectory between goal and attainment aligned once again. Her departure didn’t revolve around their case of mistaken identity. Even so, her resignation presented a problem, and, more frustrating, Barrington didn’t seem to appreciate that fact. “I’m surprised you’re so calm about it, Paul. A source gave me the impression you and Chelsea were close. Some would say intimate.” Since his “source” was Chelsea herself, he felt reasonably confident making the statement.
The helmet-headed blowhard chuckled and wagged a finger at him. “Your sources are good, but not quite up-to-date. We dated, casually, for the past few months, but I broke things off with her today.” He sighed, as if burdened by the strain of the ordeal. “Chelsea took it hard. She opted to resign.”