Page 9 of Twisted Truth

I can’t believe she’s sticking her neck out like this for me. This is Asher Langford, and she’s standing in my corner against him. He could fire her on the spot if he felt like it. I owe Emily—big time.

“I will trust your judgment for now,” he says to Emily. Then he turns to me and his expression drips with disdain again. “I will not tolerate sloppy behavior like this. This is your one and only chance, Ms. Hale. From here on out, you will not be late, you will not be disruptive, and if you don’t perform, you will be off this team and potentially fired. Do you understand?”

I nod, searching for my voice. “Yes, sir.”

Embarrassment and anger rise inside me. This man may be the owner of this company and one of the richest and most powerful men on the planet, but he’s a jerk. How was I supposed to make it on time when I had to commute in only thirty-five minutes? He’s completely unreasonable.

He clenches his jaw then drops the packet of paper he’s holding onto the table and takes a step back. He looks up at Emily. “I’m going to take a ten-minute break. You can get Ms. Hale up to speed, and I’ll be back.”

He practically stomps across the room and slams the door behind him as he goes. He hates me. He truly hates me, and he’s not even trying to hide it.

Everyone’s eyes are wide as saucers and staring at me again, and I wish the earth would swallow me whole. I don’t think I’ve ever made a worse first impression before. Yay for firsts.

And fuck my life.

3

ASHER

Is today some sort of cosmic joke? First, the problems with Greenspan, then the lashing from the board, and now I’m stuck with this misfit team that I’m being forced to put my life and my trust in. There are hundreds of millions of dollars on the line for fuck’s sake.

This team better deliver, or they’ll all find themselves fired.

And what is Emily doing, backing up Ms. Hale? I’ve never seen anything so unprofessional as that woman’s entrance into the meeting. Does she think this company is some sort of circus? I wanted to fire her right there on the spot. I almost did. But I’m on thin ice with the board, and I don’t need any complications. I’ll simply ignore the shit employees and root them out over the next few weeks—and if they aren’t up to scratch, they’re gone. I’ll probably end up starting with Ms. Hale.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Matthew. I’m not continuing this meeting alone. And since he’ll need to be by my side every step of the way in this fun little project, I want him in all these meetings. Plus, if there’s anyone who’s great with social media and aesthetic, it’s Matthew. He already helps run severalsocial media accounts for his boyfriend, Devon, who’s an interior designer.

“Yes?” Matthew says, answering my call.

“I want you down here in this meeting. You need to attend all of these meetings with me from here on out. Twenty minutes in, and it’s clear these employees who were hand-picked by the board are shit at their jobs. I swear the board is sabotaging me to get those shares back. If this is going to work, you’re going to have to help me.”

“Done,” he says, hanging up.

I let out a long breath. Fuck this meeting and fuck the board. I am not going to let this team’s incompetence sink me. If there’s one thing I’ve never allowed myself to do, it’s fail.

“Absolutely not,”I snap, tossing a photo down on the table an hour later.

“Can I ask what’s wrong with her?” Emily asks.

“I thought you all were well acquainted with PR,” I growl, what’s left of my patience slipping by the second. “How do you think the public will react to her?”

We’re going through the list of eligible women the board gave to me one at a time. I know some of the women on the list. I’ve grown up in the same circles as most of them. I’ve even dated or slept with a number of them. But the team wants to thoroughly weigh the potential of each of the candidates before they’re crossed off the list. They compiled photos, backgrounds, and any information they could get their hands on for each woman. And we’re sitting here discussing them like pieces on a chess board. We’re dissecting everything from their family and connections to their careers and pasts, and any media attention they’ve received.

“I think they’ll be impressed with her achievements,” one ofthe women, Cara, I think her name is, says. Others nod, and others aren’t as easily swayed.

The team wants to find a woman that has merit, which is fine and good, but they’re also forgetting a vital attribute the woman must possess. And I hate, truly hate, to point it out. Because not only do I not want to look like an ass, but because it should be glaringly obvious.

“Her achievements are impressive,” I agree, “and that is well and good. But what is the first thing the public is going to be introduced to?”

No one speaks.

“Oh, my god,” Matthew groans, his patience slipping right along with mine. “She’s too plain. I don’t understand why we are still keeping her and a few of the others in the running. We are here to whittle this list down to the final few candidates, and you all cannot understand that the fastest, easiest way to get rid of those who aren’t a good fit is to simplylookat their photos and judge accordingly.”

Most of the women give Matthew and me withering stares.

“Is this to be some sort of beauty pageant, then?” Cara asks, clearly annoyed. “All you care about is if the woman is beautiful?”

“No, that’s not all I care about. But it is important.” My tone is defensive.