Of course, he did. Drew’s his golden boy. But fighting him head-on won’t get me answers. “If the allegations are false, we’ll craft a strategy to address them.”
“There’s no if,” he fires back.
“All right.” I let that go, keeping my cool. “In order to do my job, I need the facts. Let’s start with what can be corroborated. Did you host a party at the Platinum Hotel on Sunday night?”
“That’s not uncommon. It was a networking event mainly for industry people who attended the conference.”
“How many attended?”
“Twenty, maybe thirty.”
“Drinks were supplied?”
“That’s standard when hosting an event.”
“Was anyone noticeably drunk?”
“I wasn’t babysitting.”
“Were there drugs?”
“Not that I ever saw. But I wasn’t spying inside bathrooms.”
“Were young women in attendance?”
His composure falters a fraction. “No one underage, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Did you proposition any of the women for sex, offering or implying a job or career advantage?”
“Are you serious?” His eyes narrow, disbelief etched into his expression.
“The allegations are serious,” I reply evenly. “So, yes.”
“Come on, Alexandra,” he says with an arrogant smirk. “Do you honestly think I need to get a woman drunk or promise her a job to get laid?”
Before I can even respond, I hear a commotion outside. A woman’s muffled protests grow clearer when the door explodes open with a resounding crash.
“Sir! Sir! You can’t—” Drew’s assistant stumbles in, frazzled, trailing after a familiar, furious figure.
Chaz.
On my God.
He storms into the room like a force of nature, his brown eyes blazing. He heads straight for Marshall, but his forward momentum slows when his eyes land on me. Everything shifts. Shock ripples across his face, quickly followed by confusion and betrayal.
“Call security!” Drew yells, his voice pitching an octave higher with panic.
The room is pandemonium, but my attention is centered on Chaz. I can only imagine this somehow involves Sophia and how quickly this could escalate.
“No one needs to call security,” I assert, pleading in silence with Chaz to leave.
But he doesn’t back down. Instead, he turns to Drew. “You sick son of a bitch. That was my sister.” His voice is low and lethal. “You can call whoever the fuck you want.”
I leap out of my chair, stepping between Drew and Chaz’s raised fist, my heart hammering. “We should talk outside,” I say firmly, hoping he’ll listen, but he’s too riled up.
“So you can calm me down? Placate me? Feed me some bullshit? You know what he did, and he’s not getting away with it. I will beat this motherfucker into the ground before I let that happen.”
Security barrels into the room, heightening the tension and my fear.
