“No. No reaction,” he cautioned himself, speaking out loud to help control the impulse to make confetti of the picture. “That’s what sets me apart. Cool. Think it through,” he soothed.
Sitting back behind the desk, he took up a pen, made a series of notes in his own brand of shorthand. No one could read it. No one but him.
He listed all the points at which Paul had thwarted him. Putting it down on paper, starting with their fraternity, made the pattern clearer. His list had grown so long, he had to use another sheet.
His blood pressure rose as he got closer to the present time. So many incidents.
“It was you, then,” he muttered. “Never Todd. Todd was just your puppet, your front man. How did I miss this?”
He had to hand it to Paul. Only now, with Todd out of the way, could he see the pattern.
“Clever, very clever. But as always, I’m a step ahead.” He dashed off a few more notes. “I know now, and I’m going to act. This time I’ll get you both.”
With a giggle, he thought about the Wicked Witch of the West’s line from The Wizard of Oz. “‘And your little dog, too,’” he cackled.
With a last flourishing stroke of the pen, he added his final reason to the list. Right after that, after the sentence about Torie taking up with Paul, he wrote:
“Time to kill Paul Jameson.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Martha can be nice,” Paul protested, closing and locking his desk. He picked up the paper schedule and several files, and crammed them into his briefcase.
“To you, maybe. She made it quite clear that I was unwelcome,” Torie replied, gathering her own things as well. Not that there was much to gather. “Do you mind if I use this portfolio and pad for a few days? I’ll get another, and get it back to you.”
Paul frowned at it. “Keep it, it’s a spare, and I don’t think I’ve ever used it.”
“Thanks,” Torie said, joining him at the door. Riding down on the elevator with a host of other people, they stayed silent, but once in the car, Torie gave him directions to her office.
“I know where your office is,” Paul replied, pulling into traffic. “Did you call ahead?”
“I guess I should.” Her stomach coiled into a knot at the thought. “At least alert Tristan that I’m coming by.”
“Much as I’d rather surprise him, yeah, you should.”
Torie managed the call, even with her hands shaking. She didn’t mind conflict, nor did she have a problem with her boss, but this unwarranted distancing of the firm from her personally was new territory. Heck, everything was new territory.
“Tris will be waiting for us,” she said, closing her eyes at the thought of being escorted to her desk, watched, stared at.
“Nice of him,” Paul said dryly, the sarcasm evident in his tone. “Of course, since it’s your desk and they haven’t fired you, he really doesn’t need to escort you.”
“Of course.”
The visit was as stilted and painful as Torie imagined. She’d imagined bad. It was worse. Tristan followed them to her office, and anyone still in the building stared at her as she walked in, following her with their eyes. She could feel the speculation building in her wake.
“Torie,” Tristan said, his eyes shadowed. “I’m so sorry about this. I really…”
“Not sorry enough to vouch for me, stand up for me,” Torie said, fighting back tears. She’d never played the weak female card here before, and she wasn’t about to now. Nothing would be worse than crying, so she locked it down. “I’ve worked hard for this firm, helped build its reputation, served on every board or committee you ever asked me to serve on. Given that, I somehow deserve this kind of treatment?” She motioned toward the door, where she could see people peeking over their cubicles to see what was going on.
“No, but—” he began.
“But nothing,” she snapped, letting anger take the place of the tears. “This is so wrong.”
He glanced at Paul, who up to this point had been silent. “I know it’s tough, but the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. We might have lost clients.”
“Did you?” Paul spoke for the first time.
“Uh, I don’t know,” he waffled. “I don’t think so, but we were advised to do, um, damage control. Quickly.”
“Oh, so putting me on admin leave is damage control? What about saying you believe in me? In my innocence? What about supporting one of your longest-serving, most loyal employees by believing in her?”
“Torie,” Tris stuttered. “You’ve got to see our side.”
“No, actually, I don’t. You never hesitated to use the fact that I was a woman, and one of the best in my field, to your advantage. From contracts to PR, you made sure everyone knew you had a crack engineer who met the government requirements for gender equality. Nope, never missed an opportunity on that one, did you?”
“But—” Tristan began.
“Yeah. But when it came to trash-talking reporters with no real information sniffing for more, you caved. You gave them a story. Don’t you realize that? You made this far more of a story than it was originally by doing your little admin leave deal.”
“When you come back, we’ll do our best to make it up to you.”
“Uh huh. That’s going to take some doing.” Torie unlocked her desk, found the safety deposit box key, took several other items as well, then relocked the desk.
“D’you mind leaving that unlocked? We needed some files earlier today and couldn’t find them.”
“No. I won’t.” She turned to Paul. “I don’t have to do that, do I?”
“No, and you can press charges if they break the locks.”
“It’s our desk,” Tris protested, shocked.
“Yes, but unless you terminate her employment, in which case she would clean out the desk, the contents can be considered her intellectual property to which you have no right.”
Tristan looked at him in horror. “What are you, her lawyer?”
“Yes, actually, I am.”
Tris’s face went pasty at the rejoinder, and he almost staggered when Paul handed over his card.
“This is Pratt and Legend,” Tris said.
“Yes. We’re among the best in the city, I believe.” Paul smiled.
While the two men were facing off, Torie took a moment to check her files. So far, nothing had been disturbed. Paul’s words had reminded her that she had a stake in things. Given that, she selected several items from her file rack on her credenza. The folders contained ideas for breaking into new markets, ideas she was developing to present. They also included her personnel report on all her employees, and the review she’d been preparing on herself.
“Uh, Torie, I don’t think…”
“These are ideas in development. My ideas. I believe my attorney already indicated I was perfectly within my rights to take them with me.”
“Indeed you are, Ms. Hagen,” Paul said, nodding with a serious air. He turned a frowning gaze toward Tristan. “So, do you feel you need to be here, supervising what Ms. Hagen is doing? That feels a bit like harassment, don’t you think, ma’am?” He turned to her and raised an amused eyebrow when Tristan couldn’t see it.
“Uh, no. I guess not. Torie,” Tristan said, shrugging helplessly, “I’m really sorry about all this.”
She didn’t say anything. Part of her wanted to tell him it was okay, that she understood. Since she really didn’t understand, she kept silent. Paul’s presence helped her keep up the façade.
Tristan backed out of the office, and Paul shut the door behind him.
“Well,” he said and grinned. “That was fun.”
Torie sagged onto a corner of the desk. “You have an unusual sense of fun.”
He came over and put an arm around her shoulders, gave a squeeze. “No, it probably was nerve-wracking for you, but you put on a good show. I would never have known you weren’t cool as a cucumber. Except…”