INDISPENSABLE: Part 3: A Billionaire Romance by Maryann Barnett Page A
Authors: Maryann Barnett
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with a number yet to be determined, for a payout and for him to stop the crazy vendetta he has against you.”
“He’ll want everything the company has.”
Sarah smiled. “I also have a line-up of young, female employees that will testify against him if needed. He can take a reasonable payout and get on with his life, I’ll even offer him some of his clients back for his own firm, or we can bring him down and send him to jail.”
“I hate that those men, men I trusted, made those young ladies feel unsafe while working at my company. It’s appalling. They should all be in jail.” Brock frowned and his eyes sparked with anger.
“Perhaps, but if he signs, then he knows we’ll always have that evidence, and I’m certain he won’t want to do anything of the kind again. If he does then, bam, we’ll move.”
“We’ll give it a go. I’ll set up a meeting.”
“The second thing we need to do is set Jason up with what he needs—likely a little more money. I’m happy to take a pay cut to allow for that.”
“I’ll work it out with finance.”
“Thirdly, I work two days a week from the office here, and three days from home—except for anything major.”
“Right. Well then. I guess we see how this goes.”
“Thanks, Brock—for understanding, for giving me space.” Sarah stood up ready to leave, pleased the talk she’d been dreading had gone so well.
Brock stood up as well and then leaned across his desk. He eyed her with determination. “You’re doing the right thing, Sarah. But I’ll miss you around here.”
Sarah simply nodded and left. There was no answer she could give him that didn’t involve being emotionally connected to his reaction. She just walked away because she’d set the rules and now she had to do the hardest part, enforce them. And, yes, she would miss him too.
****
Brock seriously needed to smash something against something. His coffee cup against the wall, that paperweight against the computer screen, his fist against a jaw. Yes, she was right, and he’d never hated anyone being so right as much as he did at this moment.
Why did his life always end up being way too complicated? In a perfect world, he’d choose to not need to be a Dom. He’d be the gentle, missionary-position man Sarah needed. He wouldn’t be married to the wheelchair-bound mother of his child. He wouldn’t be sitting here lamenting how awful life was when he knew he’d put himself exactly where he was in life.
He’d respect Sarah’s wishes; he’d be her boss, have the occasional dinner, and tie down his feelings. He still had the warehouse to make himself feel good—the one thing that’d gotten him through his adult life, the thing he leaned on to de-stress and feel somewhat normal.
He didn’t have buddies here; his best friends were his wife and an American posing as a Frenchman in Paris. He never went to his personal family dinners. Apart from his beautiful daughter, it was him and the dogs. And the warehouse.
Heather he caught up with here at the company, and they did a lot of stuff together, but he never really spent as much time on the family unit these days. He figured the less Heather’s mother saw of him, the reminder of why her life had turned out the way it had, the better. He should touch base with the mother of his child. She was the person who’d known him the longest. Maybe she could help him understand how to function in the real world.
For years, Brock had known he needed to get out more and be normal . Easier said than done. He had a high profile and cameras clicked wherever he went. At least, they did if he was out for anything other than work. Maybe he should go live in another country for a while where his face wasn’t so well known.
He could take Heather and her mother for a family holiday. He picked up his phone and texted his daughter. Feel like a holiday? Anywhere you and your mom want to go. You just have to put up with me there as well.
He looked up Rick’s
“He’ll want everything the company has.”
Sarah smiled. “I also have a line-up of young, female employees that will testify against him if needed. He can take a reasonable payout and get on with his life, I’ll even offer him some of his clients back for his own firm, or we can bring him down and send him to jail.”
“I hate that those men, men I trusted, made those young ladies feel unsafe while working at my company. It’s appalling. They should all be in jail.” Brock frowned and his eyes sparked with anger.
“Perhaps, but if he signs, then he knows we’ll always have that evidence, and I’m certain he won’t want to do anything of the kind again. If he does then, bam, we’ll move.”
“We’ll give it a go. I’ll set up a meeting.”
“The second thing we need to do is set Jason up with what he needs—likely a little more money. I’m happy to take a pay cut to allow for that.”
“I’ll work it out with finance.”
“Thirdly, I work two days a week from the office here, and three days from home—except for anything major.”
“Right. Well then. I guess we see how this goes.”
“Thanks, Brock—for understanding, for giving me space.” Sarah stood up ready to leave, pleased the talk she’d been dreading had gone so well.
Brock stood up as well and then leaned across his desk. He eyed her with determination. “You’re doing the right thing, Sarah. But I’ll miss you around here.”
Sarah simply nodded and left. There was no answer she could give him that didn’t involve being emotionally connected to his reaction. She just walked away because she’d set the rules and now she had to do the hardest part, enforce them. And, yes, she would miss him too.
****
Brock seriously needed to smash something against something. His coffee cup against the wall, that paperweight against the computer screen, his fist against a jaw. Yes, she was right, and he’d never hated anyone being so right as much as he did at this moment.
Why did his life always end up being way too complicated? In a perfect world, he’d choose to not need to be a Dom. He’d be the gentle, missionary-position man Sarah needed. He wouldn’t be married to the wheelchair-bound mother of his child. He wouldn’t be sitting here lamenting how awful life was when he knew he’d put himself exactly where he was in life.
He’d respect Sarah’s wishes; he’d be her boss, have the occasional dinner, and tie down his feelings. He still had the warehouse to make himself feel good—the one thing that’d gotten him through his adult life, the thing he leaned on to de-stress and feel somewhat normal.
He didn’t have buddies here; his best friends were his wife and an American posing as a Frenchman in Paris. He never went to his personal family dinners. Apart from his beautiful daughter, it was him and the dogs. And the warehouse.
Heather he caught up with here at the company, and they did a lot of stuff together, but he never really spent as much time on the family unit these days. He figured the less Heather’s mother saw of him, the reminder of why her life had turned out the way it had, the better. He should touch base with the mother of his child. She was the person who’d known him the longest. Maybe she could help him understand how to function in the real world.
For years, Brock had known he needed to get out more and be normal . Easier said than done. He had a high profile and cameras clicked wherever he went. At least, they did if he was out for anything other than work. Maybe he should go live in another country for a while where his face wasn’t so well known.
He could take Heather and her mother for a family holiday. He picked up his phone and texted his daughter. Feel like a holiday? Anywhere you and your mom want to go. You just have to put up with me there as well.
He looked up Rick’s
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