In all my years running this firm, I’ve never crossed that line with an employee. Especially with someone as crucial as my head of HR. It’s a recipe for disaster and I know it.
But I’m still a red-blooded man. And despite my better judgment, she’s still a knockout in that dress. Maybe I should institute a potato sack dress code just for her. But who am I kidding? Even in those baggy yellow sailing pants, I wanted to bend her over the nearest flat surface. The woman is a menace to my self-control.
It’s only Tuesday, and I’ve been struggling to concentrate since our . . . encounter on the boat over the weekend.
“Aspy?” I raise an eyebrow, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “What, did you find James Bond hiding in the copy room?”
“A spy. A mole, whatever it’s called,” she snaps, not appreciating my humor. “That’s the only explanation for why my recruitment campaign is tanking. I went over everything with a fine-tooth comb, Liam. I personally interviewed our top two candidates. They were practically salivating over our offer package. They were ready to sign.”
She slaps a folder down on my desk. “I have all the emails here in chronological order from Kim and the other candidates who pulled out. They were thrilled with their contracts. Then suddenly, they start to stall. Four days later, they decline.”
I lean back in my chair, my blood already beginning to boil. “What are you saying? That someone is committing corporate espionage?”
“It has to be it. Someone is leaking our recruitment information to Vertex, giving them the ability to undercut our offers. They know precisely who we’re targeting, what we’re offering, and they’re using that knowledge to poach the candidates.”
Frustration courses through my veins. Of course Alastair’s behind this. The man’s as predictable as he is irritating. “Who has access to the information?”
“HR, obviously. But also IT, Legal, Accounts, senior management, and the team leads for the departments the candidates would be joining. They all review the proposed contracts at some point in the process.” She frowns, her brow furrowed in thought. “What I don’t understand is how Vertex can afford to consistently outbid us. They must be offering well above market rates to lure the candidates away after they’ve already verbally accepted our offers. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Not from a business perspective, but it makes perfect sense,” I counter, my jaw clenching.
Gemma’s gaze sharpens. “This is personal. Between you and Alastair.”
“Yes,” I admit, seeing no point in denying it.
“Come on, Liam, you expect total honesty from me. I think it’s only fair that you extend the same courtesy.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. I don’t make a habit of discussing my personal life with my staff, even Gemma. “We’ll discuss this over dinner. How’s tomorrow evening? Along with a plan of action. This is too sensitive to hash out here, in the office.” I pause, eyes locking with hers. “And there are other matters we need to address as well.”
She swallows, her cheeks flushing. “Okay. . . sure.” She takes a breath, her expression turning serious. “There’s also a situation that I may need to bring to the legal team. In case there are any consequences.”
“Let’s hear it.”
She proceeds to inform me about the absurd love triangle that has developed between three of my employees. It never ceases to amaze me how foolish people can be.
“The HR team is interviewing them separately to gather facts and any evidence of unprofessional behavior,” she explains crisply. “We’ll assess whether Emily is stepping out of line or if Daniel’s personal biases are clouding his judgment.”
I lean forward, my elbows on the desk. “What does the company policy state regarding workplace relationships?”
“In summary, employees must disclose any romantic relationships. But they aren’t strictly forbidden—with one exception. We have an explicit policy prohibiting supervisory relationships. Romantic involvement between a manager and their direct report is not permitted.”
She looks away from me, and the air between us thickens with the unspoken acknowledgment of the line we crossed on Saturday night. The policy we violated.
“It also states relationships shouldn’t interfere with work responsibilities,” she adds, quieter.
I nod, my jaw tightening. “Which is precisely what this absurd trio is failing at spectacularly. If they can’t separate their personal entanglements from professional duties, then they have no business engaging in a relationship in the first place.” I pin her with a pointed look. “If disciplinary action proves necessary, you have my full trust in your judgment.”
She nods. “I’ll handle it.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken implications of our own hypocrisy.
“It’s frustrating how some people struggle with compartmentalization,” I say pointedly, testing the waters. “Clear boundaries allow for . . . indulgences without compromising professional focus. I’ve never found that to be an issue. And you, Gemma?”
The pulse in her throat jumps. “I think you’ve seen that from my diary. I’ve been compartmentalizing my frustrations about you for years while maintaining professionalism.”
A surprised chuckle escapes me—she certainly has me there.
“Are you planning to disclose our . . . indiscretion to HR?” I ask, my tone neutral.
