Page 101 of A Bossy Roommate

Bernie clears his throat and sits up in his seat. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be meeting under better circumstances, but there’s a serious discussion we need to have.”

“Let’s hear it,” I press, trying my best to not let my impatience show.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Huxley pipes up. “Slow down a bit, Bancroft. No need to be pushy.”

I regard him with a mask of indifference, fighting with my patience to deal with whatever bullshit he’s about to throw my way. “Maybe I don’t enjoy being kept in the dark or being summoned to a ‘serious meeting’ without any preparation or knowledge of it beforehand.”

“Then I guess we’ll cut right to the chase.” Bernie folds his hands. “We’re giving Harbor View to Huxley.”

My first instinct is to say nothing. Weeks ago, I would’ve exploded on them and demanded an explanation. After all, I’d worked my ass off to land that client, by putting most of my time into it and asserting myself against all naysayers. Judging by Bernie’s face, this isn’t the end of the unwelcome news. This is just preparing for the kill.

“All right, if that’s what you feel is best.” I lean back in my seat. “I don’t see why we had to have a whole meeting about it.”

“That’s not all we wanted to talk to you about.”

I remain silent.

“It has just come to our attention that a handful more of Legacy’s top clients have decided to end their contracts with us.” He mentions the two smaller clients that I’m already aware of, but then he goes on to name three of our larger and closest clients—Miller, Banks, Parker—who I hadn’t anticipated would terminate their association with us in the near future.

“Why?” I ask, this time unable to keep my voice cool.

It doesn’t make any sense. As far as I’m aware, those clients are happy with us. I’ve personally spoken to most of them myself, and they’ve never given an inkling that they were unsatisfied with the work we’re doing. The workI’mdoing. The ones who have officially left (aside from Granger) are small fish in a big pond, hardly the kind to make a dent in our earnings.

“In a nutshell,” Bernie says, “it seems one of our main competitors, Ecclestone Construction, has offered them more for less.”

Huxley shakes his head in frustrated agreement, but he doesn’t say a word.

“That’s it? That doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to terminate year-long contracts with a company as trusted as we are.”

“It isn’t just about the money,” Bernie explains, fixing his eyes on mine. “During the last month, several of ourclients have had issues at building sites and complained about mismanagement. We’ve had contractors poached, shipments lost, projects delayed, and that’s just to name a few?—”

“All of those clients are yours,” Huxley jumps in, pointing his finger at me, “and were given to you to oversee. It has become apparent to us that you can no longer handle your position here with the company.”

I hear Eden inhale sharply, no doubt ready to say something. The quick glance I give her silences her.

“Gentlemen,” I say, keeping my cool. “You know me. You know that if I make a mistake, I’m upfront about it. Projects have snags all the time. None of these outside issues you mentioned were caused by mismanagement, and I don’t see how they fall onto my shoulders. Especially since I’ve spent those same weeks successfully fixing each of those matters. Which, you know, is my job. My team and I have been working around the clock putting out fires left and right.”

“Ah, yes, your team,” Huxley says, turning his attention to Eden. “Let’s talk about your lovely assistant. Or should we call her…yourwife?”

Eden stiffens, the tension radiating off her in waves. I press my leg against hers, so she remains focused. “Excuse me?”

“Yes.” Bernie nods, having the decency to appear uncomfortable. “Saul has brought it to our attention that the two of you are married.”

And there it is. The reason why Huxley has been avoiding me.

I’m not going to let them get a rise out of me. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to this meeting.”

“It’s a marriage that was arranged to fool a poor old lady battling a severe ailment,” Huxley adds. “Which, if I’m honest, is one of the mostdespicablethings I’ve ever heard. And I’m sorry, dear board members, but do we really want to have such aruthless, corrupt, lying individual on our staff? Let alone onour board?”

Huxley looks like the cat that got the canary. The rest of the board members murmur to each other. Huxley’s expression is smug, giving me all the reasons to want to punch him in the face. So that’s what he’s been up to the last couple of weeks.

Someone must have told him that Aunt Eleanor had referred to Eden as my wife, and he had decided to investigate. How he learned of the other stuff—the reasoning behind it being to fool my aunt—I’m not sure. But the one slip-up had been enough for him to decide to dig deeper.

“That’snottrue,” Eden speaks up, glaring daggers at Huxley.

I anticipate her response—however, I can’t allow her to go through with it. If faced with further questioning, I don’t want her to become entangled in a web of deceit. Despite having her sign a non-disclosure agreement, which, I admit, was a dick move on my part, considering that Eden is the epitome of trustworthiness and loyalty, it’s time for me to put an end to it.

Under the table, I take her hand, squeeze it. I feel hers stiffen, but only for a short moment before she squeezes back, holding my hand tightly. I’m not hiding how close we’ve become, not in the least. If circumstances were different, I would have raised our joined hands, shown them that we’re a team, but this isn’t the time. Huxley would use it against us, against her, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.

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