Page 81 of Sweet Wicked Vows
Every single one of them, from different parts of the business, all victims to being harassed and assaulted by their superiors.
It made me sick.
Each one of those poor women were squashed under the thumb of Reynolds’ law team, and simply fired on the spot and given a check as if it were enough to make up for the wrongs theysuffered.
Walking into the office that day was one of the hardest things I’d done. I was repulsed and so full of rage toward every single person in the building who allowed it to happen that I wanted nothing more than to go to the press and accept full responsibility.
Those women deserved better.
All I could say was thank the heavens for Jaxon.
He was my small lifeline during the shit storm.
He took full control of the situation like he’d been doing for weeks on end. Holding meetings upon meetings, sending emails left and right to try and soothe any doubts that potential and current clients had.
First the fucking mob, now this?
How could Dad have allowed such things to happen?
The irony of all his charity work, the hundreds of thousands of dollars he gave away to organizations helping the vulnerable, was downright laughable.
He was willing to hand over checks like they were nothing. But standing up and actually doing something himself was apparently out of the question.
After a long hellish day of trying not to scream and cry at each new email coming through from media outlets and hate mail from the public, I was never so glad to come home.
Not the home I grew up in.
The home where the second I walked through the hall into the kitchen, I found Poppy singing to herself while she cooked up dinner, and Jaxon sitting at the kitchen table reading a book with Bell curled up on his lap.
The sight warmed me from the tips of my toes to the top of my scalp.
“You’re home.” Poppy grinned. “Just in time. Dinner is almost ready.”
I hadn’t eaten anything all day, my stomach too twisted into knots that the thought of food brought bile surging up. My stomach released a pained growl at the smell of baking bread and roasting chicken.
“Are you reading a romance novel?” I glimpsed at the book in Jaxon’s hands. “No judgment, but I didn’t peg you as the type who enjoyed reading fluffy and smutty romance.”
Jaxon didn’t look up from the book. “There was nothing else in your library except these sorts of books.”
Something was wrong. I could see the unsettledness, the slow-burning resonating beneath his skin. Like the waves of a tsunami drawing backward before total destruction.
“There’s plenty of other books in the drawing room,” I countered, unease growing as he continued to focus solely on the pages. “Pretty sure there is something a bit more tailored to your taste other thanThe Duke’s Grand Gesture.”
He flipped a page.
“Don’t mind him.” Poppy opened the oven. “He’s been in a foul mood ever since he took a phone call.”
“What phone call?”
“None that concerns you,” he replied, deadpan.
What a jackass.
“You could make yourself useful.” Poppy floated over to Jaxon. “Set the table and try not to break any more of the wine glasses while you’re at it.”
Jaxon rolled his eyes. “The glass slipped from my grasp.”
“So you say,” Poppy said. “Don’t see how a glass can slip from your fingers while you are on the phone and end up on the other side of the kitchen, but whatever you say.”