Bold little thing, isn’t she? I like this new, unfiltered Gemma already.
“An unreasonable man? My, we’re certainly not holding back now, are we?”
She meets my gaze head-on, unflinching. “Figured there’s no point. Might as well own it.”
I smile. “Well, I do disagree. See, from where I’m sitting, I’m the height of fucking reason. I pay my people well enough to retire by thirty if they’re smart about it. And I make my expectations clear from day one. No one signs on with Ashbury Thornton blindly. They know exactly what they’re getting into, and they choose it anyway. So you’ll have to forgive me if I have little patience for whining when I push them to be the best damn versions of themselves.”
She narrows those fiery green eyes at me, a muscle ticking in her jaw. “Maybe the problem isn’t with your expectations, but with your approach. You can be . . . let’s see, how do I put this delicately? A demanding, antagonistic pain in the ass.”
I throw my head back and laugh, genuinely tickled by her brazen honesty. “Gemma Jones, unleashed and uncensored. I’m quite enjoying her so far. But I don’t have all night to sit here and verbally spar, as entertaining as it is. So, what’s it going be? You still planning on jumping ship, or are you going to stick it out with me?”
She takes a long, contemplative drag of her cigarette, exhaling slowly. “Sorry. It’s a no.”
What?
I stare at her for a long moment, sizing her up. When she doesn’t so much as move a face muscle, I let out a frustrated sigh. What employee doesn’t react to a fifty percent top up?
I find myself doing something shocking. “Fine. I’ll double your salary.”
She can’t help the blood draining from her face, her pupils dilating with shock. And damn if I’m not reacting too. I rub my palm roughly against the leather armchair. I may be a billionaire, but it’s not an offer I make lightly. I know exactly how much she’s paid and how much this stunt is going to cost me. Miss Jones will be raking in more than most of my top execs, and that’s saying something.
“Okay. I’ll consider your proposal,” she says at last. “But I have a condition of my own.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Ollie shouldn’t be managing so many juniors. They can’t go to him with problems—he has no patience for inexperience. He gives scathing critiques, which works on a certain type of person to a degree. But he hurls demeaning insults at junior employees to assert his dominance. He has no qualms about publicly berating or humiliating juniors in front of others. Other financial institutions have already woken up to the fact that staff can’t be treated this way. It’s notMad Men.”
“Not this song and dance again,” I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Fine.” She stands abruptly, calling my bluff with a defiant tilt of her chin.
“Gemma,” I growl. “I can’t just upend someone’s entire job description on a whim because you say so.”
“It’s just a change in protocol. The juniors shouldn’t be tossed straight into the shark tank with Ollie. We have other managersbetter equipped to actually mentor them, nurture their potential. When they’re ready for Rottweiler Ollie, we hand them over. We can spin it to him that we’re prepping them for hiselite squad,” she says with a sarcastic edge. “Put me in charge of the restructure, Liam. Let me handle it, and I promise you’ll see a marked improvement in junior retention and performance.”
She stares me down unflinchingly, tendrils of smoke curling around her like a halo. I have to admit, I’m impressed. With all the incentives she could’ve demanded, all the perks and pay bumps, she chooses to go to bat for the most vulnerable members of the company. It’s admirable, even if I’m not entirely convinced the change is necessary.
“I don’t know why but you’re desperate to beat Vertex out of the UK market,” she says. “Which means securing that massive TLS acquisition is priority number one. And you need me now more than ever.”
I’m honestly floored by the sheer audacity of her power play. And the infuriating thing is, she’s not wrong. Come hell or high water, wewillwin that TLS bid. There’s no way I’m letting that arrogant prick Harrington outmaneuver me on my home turf. Not in this lifetime.
“All right. You’ve made your point,” I concede, holding up a hand in surrender. “We’ll hash out the details of this restructuring tomorrow.”
She tries and fails to hide the brief flash of triumph that lights up her face before the mask of professionalism slams back into place. “Good. You’ll see the long-term benefits, trust me. I’ll need that guarantee in writing, though.”
“Not a problem. See how reasonable I can be?”
She lets out a derisive little snort. “Please. We both know you’d toss me aside in a heartbeat if it served your bottom line.”
“Fortunately for you, keeping a valuable asset like yourself aligns with my interests currently.” I regard her coolly, one eyebrow arched. “Are you satisfied now?”
She swallows hard, her bravado starting to wane. “I’d be a lot more satisfied if this whole mortifying ordeal had never happened. How am I supposed to look you in the eye after . . .”
“After I’ve had the distinct pleasure of perusing your fantasies?” I smirk, fully aware I’m being an asshole.
Her head snaps up, green eyes flashing fire. “Don’t think for a second this means I have any affection for you, Liam. I loathe you as much as ever.”
“You’ve made that quite clear. But we both know that’s not how sexual attraction works, is it? You can hate my guts with every fiber of your being and still want to fuck my brains out on a primal level you can’t control.”
