“Me either.” She looked at me. “We aren’t supposed to entertain any investors who suggest layoffs.”
“Ha!” Mr. Lay snorted. “That would be impossible. Surely you’ve seen the numbers?”
She didn’t respond to him.
Instead, she stood in the doorway clutching the belt of her gray coat in one hand, a thermos in the other.
Her cheeks were flushed with fever, her hair half-tucked into her collar, her watery eyes proof she’d managed to escape from my bed.
“Gentlemen,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. “My CFO is currently sick and will be going back home within the next few minutes…”
“I’m feeling better now—much better, actually—considering what I’m hearing.”
“We’re just getting started on fine-tuning the logistics, Miss Stone.” Mr. Lay gave her a pleasant smile. “If you’d like, I can give you a quick recap.”
“I just want to know if I heard you right about laying off forty-nine point eight percent of the staff. Is that correct?”
“Oh, well—yes.” He was still smiling. “Doing that will immediately save costs, and not saying ‘fifty’ definitely makes it sound better.”
“You’re going to lay people off the week before Thanksgiving?” She looked directly at me. “Four weeks before Christmas?”
“Everything is still up for negotiation,” Mr. Lay said. “If you bring us on, I can promise you we’ll be more than fair.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Lay, I’m not talking to you.” She glared at me. “I’m talking directly to Mr. Cross.”
“Why can’t you just—” I shut my folder as she coughed a few times. “Can someone get Miss Stone some water, please?”
“Yes or no, Mr. Cross?” She moved closer, swatting an intern’s glass away.
“Andrea…”
“It’s a simple yes-or-no question, Mr. Cross.” She was inches from me now—eyes fierce, voice trembling. “Are you literally sitting here planning to fire people after telling me otherwise?”
“Mr. Lay,” I said, ignoring her even though a knot tightened in my stomach, “pick up where you left off before the intrusion. As I promised, I’ll save my questions for the end.”
“Um…” He glanced nervously between us. “Yes, sir. So—if we order employees by seniority, we can start the first round of terminations with the people who haven’t been here that long. Afterwards?—”
“So you’re a bold-faced liar.” Andrea seethed. “You lied to my face, wrote a contract that means shit to you, and you’re determined to be a heartless asshole who values your margins over people.”
A collective gasp snapped through the room before silence swallowed the air.
“Everyone out,” I said quietly. “Now.”
Chairs scraped, papers rustled, and the door slammed shut in an instant.
“This is exactly why I told you to stay your ass at home.” I looked at her. “You just ruined my first impression with them.”
“I wish I’d done it sooner.” Her voice broke, breath uneven. “I believed you when you promised—fucking promised—that no one would lose their job. I defended you. I actually—” Her voice cracked again. “I thought you were better than this.”
The words hit harder than they should have, but I refused to get emotional.
“Interesting choice of phrase, Miss Stone,” I said. “I could say the same about you right now.”
“How could you even consider this?” Her chest rose and fell like she couldn’t pull in enough air. “This is people’s lives.”
“It’s mine, too.” I hissed. “I didn’t buy this company for shits and giggles, and regardless of whatever the hell is happening between us, my long-term goal hasn’t changed.”
“If you go through with this, I’ll never speak to you again.”
