“Marvey, that’s inappropriate—” Patricia Strale starts, but he talksover her.
“Oh, please, Pat. You know what is inappropriate? Using company resources to wine and dine your girlfriend while our stock tanks. That’s inappropriate.”
“The relationship had no bearing on company operations,” I say through clenched teeth. “Bailey has been very useful. She presented at the investor meeting—”
“She made PowerPoint slides look pretty,” Marvey interrupts again. “My twelve-year-old nephew could have done that. What she couldn’t do was keep her legs closed long enough for you to close a deal.”
I’m on my feet before I realize it. “Watch your mouth.”
“Or what?” Marvey grins. “You’ll throw a tantrum? Shove me like you shoved that reporter? That is exactly the problem, Daniel. You’ve lost control.”
“Gentlemen, please.” Eleanor Hayes—the only board member who has ever been decent to me—raises her hands. “This isn’t productive. Daniel, dear, I think what they’re trying to say is that we’re concerned about the direction this is all heading.”
“Concerned is putting it mildly,” Patricia says. “The Whitmore deal fell through, and Larsson pulled out. Three other investors have requested emergency meetings. We’re hemorrhaging money because the captain is too busy playing house to steer the ship.”
“I’ve been steering this ship for fifteen years,” I say quietly. “But one scandal and suddenly I’m incompetent?”
“That girl saw you coming a mile away. Batting her eyelashes, playing the ingénue, making you feel like a big man. And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker.” Marvey leans back, folding his arms across his belly.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“We should get to the point, please.” Eleanor clears her throat gently. “Daniel, I know this is difficult. But perhaps taking a step back might give you space to sort out your personal—”
“You want me out.” It’s not a question.
Silence.
“Temporarily,” Patricia says carefully. “Just until the scandal dies down and we can restore confidence with investors.”
“Three days,” Marvey adds. “That is all we’re giving you. If things haven’t improved by Friday, we’ll have to make some difficult decisions.”
“Difficult for who?” I look around the table. “For you? Because it seems pretty easy from where I’m standing. First sign of trouble and you’re ready to throw me overboard.”
“That’s not fair—” Eleanor starts.
“Isn’t it? I built this company from nothing. From a tiny startup in my apartment to a billion-dollar enterprise. I made you all rich. And the second my personal life gets messy, you want my head.”
“Your personal life is affecting the bottom line,” Whitfield says coldly. “That makes it our business.”
“Your bottom line,” I correct. “God forbid Daniel Williams has a moment of human weakness. You can’t have that affecting your summer homes.”
“Now you’re just being petulant,” Marvey says. “Listen, kid. You’re good at what you do; no one is denying that. But right now, you’re a liability. Take the time off. Get your head straight. Maybe find a nice woman who isn’t on your payroll.”
“I’m not stepping down.”
“Daniel—” Patricia’s voice sharpens. “You need to think carefully—”
“I have thought carefully.” I lean forward, palms flat on the table. “And here is what I think. You need me more than I need you. Every contact is with me. Not the company. Me. You push me out, even temporarily, and half those relationships walk out the door with me.”
“Are you threatening us?” Whitfield’s eyes narrow.
“I’m stating facts. You want to play hardball? Fine. But remember who holds the cards here.” I straighten my tie. “I’ll fix the scandal, but I’m doing it my way, and if you don’t like that—” I look around the table, “—then by all means, vote me out. But be prepared for the consequences. Meeting adjourned.”
I walk out before anyone can respond.
The elevator ride down feels endless. Forty-four floors of silence and second-guessing.
Did I just commit career suicide? Probably.
