Leo took a step away from their table. A step away from her.
“I haven’t violated policy. This”—he gestured over his shoulder to Faith—“isn’t any kind of conflict.”
“This shouldn’t be happening at all,” the older man said crisply.
“This?”Faith wasn’t about to be talked about like an inanimate object. She stood too, but her optimistic heart compressed when Leo shifted away as her shoulder brushed his.
“Nothing happened until after the grant paperwork was signed,” she insisted.
Carlisle’s eyes snapped to her, his assessing gaze cataloging her body just as it had at the foundation office all those months ago. And even though she was dressed in business casual this time, he obviously still found her wanting.
“How soon after?” he asked politely.
Leo’s jaw clenched, and guilt poured off him in waves. Their silence was enough of an indictment for the man in front of them.
“Pull the grant,” Carlisle barked, clearly unconcerned that their little scene was starting to attract attention from nearby tables. “The Digham Foundation has rules for a reason, and I won’t let some pushy new employee trample all over them.”
Faith slowly sank into her chair.
The grant. She was going to lose everything because she’d fallen back in love with the one person she shouldn’t have. She risked a glance at Leo, but he was locked in place, fists clenched and expression furious. He looked ready to explode, but Carlisle carried on with his casual evisceration of their lives.
“Or you could resign. Then the grant stays in place, and it doesn’t matter what you do in your personal life.” His smile was triumphant. A master chess player moving into checkmate.
The men locked eyes, and Faith was scared to even fidget for fear they’d point those flinty stares at her and she’d be turned into stone.
Finally Carlisle gave a jovial smile and waved at someone over Leo’s shoulder. “I need to get back to the foundation. So much paperwork to review, you know, and a six-month probationary review just around the corner. I’m sure it’s all on the up-and-up, but if it’s not…”
God, the probationary review. So many ways BUILD could lose its funding. A quick glance at Leo wasn’t any help; his chest rose and fell as he took in great gulps of air, but he still said nothing.
Carlisle dropped any pretense of a smile as he leaned forward to get right in Leo’s face. “Be in my office first thing tomorrow with your resignation letter or with paperwork terminating the grant. Your choice.”
He pulled back and straightened his shirt cuff. “I warned George Voit you were a bad choice.” He sniffed, then he turned and walked away.
After a stunned moment, Faith was the first to speak.
“Fuck that guy. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
Leo looked queasy. “I pushed the board to approve you for a grant you didn’t apply for.” His voice creaked from his throat. “I told them you were on board before you’d agreed. We had sex in a closet two seconds after you signed the paperwork.”
Faith’s heart sank. “Yes, but—”
“We’ve been sleeping together for almost a month. It doesn’t look good, Faith.”
Sleeping together? Was that all they’d been doing? She’d thought they were building something real, something permanent. And she’d thought he felt the same, but now he was reducing it to a just month of sex? She pressed her fingers to her mouth and was surprised to find them trembling. “Okay.” She exhaled a steady stream of air, groping for calm. “Okay. But nothing started between us until after I signed—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He was looking everywhere but at her. “He’s a thirty-year veteran, and I’ve been here for barely six months. He’s got all the power here. I’m just…”
He swallowed but didn’t finish the thought, and Faith gestured wildly around the room.
“So we’ll network. We’ll find you another job.”
Another thick silence enveloped him as he rotated ever so slowly to face her.
“What?”
His surprise shocked her, and she lurched to her feet.
“What do you meanwhat? I assumed…”
