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“Thank you.”
Emersyn’s departure added a frailty to Rowan’s emotional state. It had been nice, having her here as backup. Shoring up her mindset, she picked up where she left off.
“Anyone else want to leave?” She glanced at each person there, one at a time. Another man squirmed in his chair, but no one else moved.
“Good,” she said, the smile returning to her face. “Over the next few weeks, I’ll meet with each of you.”
“Are we being interviewed to keep our jobs?” a dark-haired woman at the opposite end of the table asked.
“Absolutely not. As of this moment, your jobs are secure. I want to get to know you better, to hear any ideas you might have for future growth, and to increase your satisfaction with your jobs.
“So you can take our ideas and make them your own,” a blond-haired man said.
Rowan frowned. “It saddens me that the direction of this department to date makes you think that.” She speared one of the scowlers with her gaze. “If any of your suggestions are merited and utilized, you will get credit for it.”
“Right,” the man said. “We’ll get the credit. Never happened before. I bet it’s not going to happen now.”
“You don’t trust me yet. I get that, and only time will change your attitude. I guarantee you, if you stick around and work hard, we will earn each other’s trust. In the meantime, I do expect you to respect my position. Now, are there any questions?”
No one raised their hand.
“Great. Then let’s get to work. This division is going to live up to its credentials because of you.”
She stood by the door and shook each person’s hand, asking their name as they left. About five people in, Rowan glanced up and faltered as she noticed Gerard standing outside the conference room, watching her. How long had he been there? And had he liked what he’d heard? She couldn’t tell from his detached expression.
Shaking her head, she tried to ignore him and went on greeting the men and women of her division. When she glanced his way again, he had disappeared. It galled her that he’d been checking up on her, seeing how she handled herself.
You don’t trust me yet. The words she’d spoken to these people rang true with her and her boss. He needed time to understand how capable she was. Rowan would prove to him that he could trust her. Prove to him that she could do this job. And prove that to herself as well.
Later, back in her office, Rowan sank into her chair. She’d done it. Met with her employees and stood her ground. More proud of herself than she’d been in a long time, she took a moment to bask in the glow of her new position. Closing her eyes, she envisioned herself and the Global MegaCorp Division…tomorrow, in a month, in a year.
Then she opened her eyes and booted up her computer. Time to get to work.
Back in his office, Gerard admitted to a grudging admiration for his newest director. She’d been forthright with her employees, not holding back, stating truths they probably needed to hear. She’d held her own, even when that asshole got up and left.
He didn’t want to respect her. Hell, he didn’t even want her here. His thoughts over the last day had strayed to her often, and that wasn’t a good sign. He firmly believed in that no fraternization clause, even though a part of him, deep inside, knew he’d mentioned it to her to shore up his own ability to stay away.
His phone rang. “Yes?”
“Mr. Silverman is on line one for you,” Sandra said.
Gerard raised his eyes to the ceiling. Richard Silverman was the oldest person on the board and the one most stuck in his ways. He’d been a thorn in Gerard’s side ever since he and Emersyn had taken over for their retiring father and looked for any excuse to make Gerard look incompetent to the board. He’d probably heard about the new hire and wanted to rake Gerard over the proverbial coals. The CEO after Gerard’s name meant nothing to the man.
Heaving a deep sigh, Gerard thanked Sandra, stretched his neck from side to side, and punched the blinking line button. Better to get this over with.
Rowan McCarthy had better get the job done and do it well, or he’d be the one paying the price.
Chapter Five
Late on a Monday evening a month later, Rowan sank into her office chair and pulled the pins from her loosely upswept hair. Shaking it out, she looked around an office she’d tried to make her happy place. Emersyn had offered her an executive office, but Rowan preferred to be nearer to the action so had moved into a bland, beige office near the rows of cubicles that were the main hub of the division. A couple of colorful art deco paintings hung on the wall over her credenza to offset the sterile atmosphere. Since she had a window, she’d wrestled several plants in. They were scattered around on her credenza and in floor pots. The palm thrived, as did her rubber plant, her dragon tree, and the philodendron she’d started when she entered college. She spent so many hours here; it made sense to surround herself with what made her happy.
It had been one hell of a first month managing this division. Two analysts quit her first day on the job. A third propositioned her twice—never mind the “no fraternization” clause Gerard Barrett had made sure she knew about. He quit rather than do the mandatory sexual harassment training.
Now, the office was pretty much empty. Everyone except Michael Wentworth, her second in command, had gone home to start celebrating tomorrow’s Independence Day.
It was nine p.m., and fatigue had taken over. Rowan wasn’t even sure she had the energy to go home. She kicked off her shoes, put her feet up on her desk, and crossed her ankles.
Michael poked his head in. The man’s suit was still as sharp as it had been at the beginning of the day. How did he manage that? By day’s end, she often felt like a rumpled Shar-Pei.
