Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
At her name, though, she moved outward, lifting her chin, rising up to her full height.
"Gem-ma," she clarified.
"Whatever. Your quitting was incredibly inconvenient, you know."
Incredibly inconvenient?
Quin's face held the same surprise and confusion as I felt.
That wasn't how people who were plotting kidnapping and murder acted.
"Having to actually replace your own toilet paper roll must be so taxing," Gemma drawled, and it took a lot not to smile, not used to her being so snarky.
"What are you doing in my house?" he asked, moving away from his mess. It would likely sit there until the housekeeper came back in the morning to handle it.
"We're here to discuss a business problem," Quin informed him.
"I don't discuss business in my home. Without an appointment."
"In their defense, you would have no idea if you actually had an appointment unless someone else told you," Gemma told him, on a roll.
"You were the worst assistant I'd ever had," Phillip shot back as we followed him past the front door and into his study--a room decorated entirely in dark wood and leather.
"Alright, you're done talking to her," Quin informed Phillip with enough aggression to make his shoulders tense. "We're here to talk about your cancer cover-up."
I knew the second it was out of Quin's mouth that something was wrong, that we were wrong.
"Cancer cover-up," Philip repeated, brows furrowing. "Oh, that nonsense about a few cases after lifelong use? Newsflash, people, all chemicals can cause cancer after using them in huge quantities over a long period of time."
"We're not talking about that. We're talking about your so-called 'more natural' product about to hit the market."
"It doesn't cause cancer. Jesus. You environmentalists. Suspicious of everything."
This wasn't an act.
I'd known a lot of good liars, but this wasn't a lie.
He truly believed their product was safe.
"It killed several of your employees," Gemma snapped, not quite buying it.
"What?"
"The fuck is going on here?" Quin mumbled under his breath, barely loud enough for me to hear.
"Don't act like you don't know about it. You had files about it on your computer."
"There are a lot of files on my computer."
"There was a detailed file from Roland Eggers right before the cancer killed him."
"I knew we lost Eggers. He was a good man. But I know nothing about any correlation between his illness and working at our company."
"Don't try to tell me that you don't know what is going on in your own company," Gemma snapped.
"I know what is told to me in emails and meetings."
That was likely fair enough.
No CEO knew every little detail about every department of their company. They delegated and expected those who he delegated things to to update him regularly on possible progress or setbacks.
At this point, we had to ask ourselves one simple question.
Who, aside from Phillip, stood to gain the most from keeping this in the dark?
My head whipped over, finding the name practically flashing across Gemma's eyes as well.
David.
He was suspicious, paranoid, ruthless, threatening.
And smart enough to keep his boss in the dark.
"I think I need to make a call," Phillip said, already reaching for his cell phone, putting the pieces together himself.
We all stood there on bated breath, half expecting him to lay it all out over the phone.
But, to our surprise--and his credit--he just demanded David come over, that there was something they needed to discuss immediately.
"Now, who the hell are you guys?" he asked when he hung up, gaze moving over all of us.
"Quinton Baird," Quin supplied. "We... fix things," he supplied carefully.
Luckily enough, men like Phillip Harper knew exactly what fixers were, how they operated, why they were needed.
"Hired by?"
"Doing a personal favor for our former employee," Quin supplied, nodding toward Gemma.
"And she needed you to fix, what, exactly?"
"A wrong in your company."
"We don't know if there is a wrong in my company," Phillip said diplomatically.
There were a few more tense sentences shared before the front door opened and slammed closed, as footsteps clicked on the marble as they made their way toward us.
I could feel Gemma moving in behind me more, her breathing starting to rush out of her as David came around us, casting a curious gaze at both Quin and me, and--likely--just the side of Gemma since her head was hiding behind my shoulder.
"These people have come here to tell me something very interesting about my company."
"What could they possibly have to tell you about your company?" David asked, and I could already see what his role was. CFO, sure, but also the resident ass-kisser, ego-stroker, the one who convinced Phillip that everything was fine, that he was the lord and master.
When he was the puppet master who had his boss on a string.
It was all making so much fucking sense.
Who stood to gain the most from pushing a product through despite the scandal?
The man in charge of making the company money. The man who likely stood to gain an obscene raise when it was a commercial success.