Page 55 of The Physical Attraction Seminar
I’ve never liked this man, and neither has my father or Uncle Steve. Whenever he enters the room, there is always an uneasy tension in the air. Harold is one of those people who claims to prioritize the best interest of all the shareholders, but his actions reveal his self-centered motives.
The other eight members of the board sit around the conference table, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting nervously.
“Let me guess? You’re here to attempt to throw out the non-fraternization policy?” Harold hardly allows me to enter the room before he begins his interrogation.
“Actually, yes. But I’m not going to really have to try that hard because if you don’t get rid of it, then I’ll resign as CEO.”
“If he goes, then I go,” Harrison adds.
“And if they go, so do I,” Reid joins in.
The board members exchange side-eyed glances, their suspicion palpable. Meanwhile, Harold rubs his hands together with an air ofmalevolence.
A slow smile spreads across Harrison's lips, revealing his satisfaction. “I’m sure you all remember the clause that states that if no one from the Banks family lineage remains in the business, then the entire company must be dissolved at once.”
Harold’s face falls and he grumbles under his breath about his disdain for that clause. Thank you to my great-great-grandfather and his brothers for writing this clause in the original company documentation. It’s been passed down through generations of other official B.B.E. agreements, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to fulfill its purpose.
“Ahh, so you are familiar with it?” I ask.
“You all can’t use that any time you want to get your way.”
“I wouldn’t feel the need to use it if I didn’t think my board was turning against me.” I lock eyes with each of the nine board members, and a wave of guilt washes over their gazes.
“We wouldn’t need to have a meeting like this if you weren’t guilty of violating the non-fraternization policy to begin with,” Harold states.
“I don’t feel guilty about anything.” I look over at my brothers, maintaining a cool composure. “What do you guys think? Do I seem guilty of something?”
“Nope,” they say in unison.
“If that’s the case, then where were you last week, Mr. Banks?” Harold's tone is growing more assertive.
“Well, I went to a handful of client meetings. Sat in my office, typing away endlessly for another forty or so hours—financial models, deal structures, legal stuff. Tried a new Italian place for dinner one night, but that was about as wild as it got,” Harrison starts.
“Worked. Played golf. Went home,” Reid adds in.
“And I was on vacation.”
Since he never specified which Mr. Banks he was speaking to, it's only fair to assume that he's addressing all of us.
“With your assistant?” Harold asks with a raised brow and a sly smile, thinking he’s getting the upper hand.
“She’s not my assistant anymore.”
“She was while the two of you were on a beach vacation together,” he says the sentence like he knows it’s a fact.
“No, actually, she wasn’t. She quit before our trip started.”
I’m lying.
Harold knows it.
The board knows it.
I know it.
Their only problem is that they can't provide any evidence to support their claim.
“That’s not true. I know that’s not true.” Frustration is evident in Harold’s tone, his face growing darker shades of red as time passes. “Explain why your calendar wasn’t updated, then? The woman on the phone told me where you were. Are you calling her a liar?”
