Between the lawsuit, meetings with the legal team and senior management, and almost no sleep in the past forty-eight hours combined with a wicked case of jet lag, he was wiped out. One-thirty in the morning was when he’d stumbled into his apartment drunk with sleep deprivation. He might as well have slept at the office. At least he’d have been able to catch a couple more z’s and been saved the morning commute. But then he wouldn’t have been able to change clothes, and it had been nice to sleep in his own bed and shower in his own bathroom. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until he was back.

  Kennedy probably has something to do with that.

  He swiftly pushed the thought aside. No matter what he felt about her, Kennedy had made her feelings for him very clear. She wasn’t interested in starting anything up with him again.

  Jack stopped in front of his desk. “You want me to do this? I don’t mind dealing with the press. I’ve been told I have a nice speaking voice and I won’t need a microphone.”

  “By who, your mother?” Nate quipped, eliciting an amused smile from his friend. Mrs. Holly Walters made helicopter parents look like ’70s-style hippies.

  Nate glanced down at the printed statement he’d spent an hour writing up last night and now knew by heart. “Nah, I have it covered. Anyway, Aurora said it’ll go over better coming from me.”

  “She’s probably right,” Jack conceded as he rocked back on his heels, hands shoved in his pant pockets.

  “As I have you here, has anyone in HR been able to find Alberta Simpson’s last performance review?” This was the stuff that made him lose his shit. How was it that no one could find the performance review of the person at the forefront of the lawsuit? Not only did the company keep printed copies of them, they were also digitized. The damn thing had to be sitting on one of the servers.

  “Not yet, but I’m sure it’ll come up. Bonnie probably filed it in the wrong place. But don’t worry. I’m having IT search the backup servers.” Jack sounded irritatingly unperturbed.

  “You’re sure she was given a paper copy?” In the lawsuit, Alberta claimed otherwise.

  “Bonnie swears Alberta received one once she signed off on it. Said it was sent to her via internal mail. If Alberta didn’t receive it, why didn’t she say something at the time? Annual reviews were over six months ago.”

  Fair question, Nate silently acknowledged, but it didn’t explain why the company couldn’t find their copy of the damn thing.

  “She probably misplaced it.”

  Nate slanted him a look. “I don’t know. It might look like we’re hiding something.”

  Jack let out a short laugh. “Hide what?” Pulling his hands from his pockets, he raised them in surrender. Check me, I’m clean. “We’ve got nothing to hide.”

  Nate couldn’t afford to have his CTO’s confidence, not when there was so much at stake: the company’s reputation, employee morale. Not being able to attract top-notch talent would affect the company’s ability to grow.

  “Didn’t you read the lawsuit in full? In that missing review, she claims Flynn promised her the position that went to Brent.”

  Duncan Flynn, the director of Project Management, couldn’t have picked a worse time to get married. Sun, warm weather, clear blue skies, and sandy beaches... What sane man would opt for that when he could be in Manhattan, where the humidity was 500 percent? Currently, the lucky bastard was in Greece on his honeymoon and wouldn’t be returning to work for another two weeks. Jack had left a message at the emergency number Flynn had provided but had yet to hear back. Undoubtedly for a good reason. He was busy screwing his new wife.

  “As far as I’m aware, Duncan always had Brent in mind for the position when it opened up. It makes no sense he’d promise it to Alberta.”

  “Fine, but we’ve got to get our hands on the damn performance review. I don’t care what it takes—I want it for the next meeting Legal has with their lawyers.” His current and former employees were being represented by Goldberg & Johnson. If this had happened four years ago, the law firm would more likely be defending Constellation.

  Funny how things change with time.

  Not that he’d have wanted them representing the company. He wasn’t out to crush his workers. No, his goal was to do whatever he had to do to make things right, and if that meant signing his name on a big fat check, so be it. They had more than enough money. What was most important were the results of the investigation. Did the allegations have merit, and could they be validated? If so, he wanted the problem fixed, and he’d do whatever it took to get it done. Constellation wasn’t the most diverse tech company in the industry by accident. He and his team had put the process in place to make it happen. But if there was something wrong in the gears, he wanted it fixed.

  Jack nodded. “Aye, aye, boss. I’ll see what I can do.” Before leaving, he paused at the door. “You’re absolutely sure you don’t want me to do this presser?” He quirked a brow. “Or I could stand up there behind you, you know, for moral support?”

  “Nah. It’ll look better if I’m standing there alone. Just me taking responsibility and willing to field questions from reporters.”

  “All right, then, I’ll just stand in the back. See you in a few. And good luck.”

  After Jack’s departure, Nate stared at the empty doorway.

  Good luck.

  He looked at his statement and prayed much wouldn’t be needed.

  * * *

  The founders of tech giants had become a common source of news over the years; their hobbies, their passions, their philanthropy, their politics. But toss in the controversy of a lawsuit alleging racial and gender discrimination and the media would break down the door with a battering ram for a story, although—to be fair—they much preferred to be invited in. Which was why Kennedy wasn’t surprised by the size of the crowd gathered in the lobby of Constellation’s headquarters, a portion of which had been roped off for the occasion.

  An impressive bit of architecture here, with lots of glass, light wood, and geometric elements throughout. The ceiling loomed three or four stories above and contained bright recessed lighting.

  A glance at her watch had her quickening her pace. The press conference should be starting soon. On her way to her destination—preferably a spot in the back—she caught a glimpse of Aurora. She was sitting in the front row, chatting with the woman next to her, her hands gesturing as if she had more than a drop of Italian blood in her. On any other day, Kennedy would have joined her, but today she aimed to be as unobtrusive as possible...which must be the reason that this morning, of all days, she’d gone to her closet and pulled out a sleeveless multicolored “look at me” floral wrap dress to wear to work. Plus, every seat in the place was taken and the standing room only area was already three rows deep.

  She found a spot near the floor-to-ceiling windows behind a cluster of women. Thankfully, they were all shorter than her, meaning she’d have an unobstructed view of Nate when he finally took his place behind the podium set up at the front.

  “Are you a member of the press?”

  Kennedy gave a slight start, her head swiveling to take in the man who now occupied the spot next to her. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties and had dark hair, a prominent nose, squinty Clint Eastwood eyes, and a wiry build. In her heels, they stood around the same height, putting him just shy of six feet. Judging by his attire—blue slacks, a white shirt, and a matching blazer—she pegged him as an employee. The male reporters wore ties.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “And you’re not an employee, because I would have remembered you,” he replied, but not in a way that gave her the impression he was coming on to her. Just a simple statement of fact.

  “But clearly you are,” Kennedy said, making sure to keep an eye on what was going on up front.

  His mouth quirked. “That I am. Jack Walters, chief technology officer.” His chin dipped in an informal nod of greeting. “And you are?”

  “Kennedy Mitchell.” If she were keeping to the example he set, she would have tagged on small-business owner.

  “So, Kennedy Mitchell, what brings you to my neck of the woods if you’re not here to give my boss a hard time?”

  At that, she smiled to herself. Give Nate a hard time indeed. After vacillating all morning, she’d caved. She’d made the decision to come by, telling herself she’d be a familiar and friendly face in the midst of a sometimes aggressive and unforgiving press.

  “I’m a friend of the family.”

  Jack Walters did a double take, his light brown eyes taking a tour of her body before stopping at her face. “Ah, yes, that Kennedy. Aurora’s friend.”

  “Do you know Aurora?”

  “Since she was a kid. Nate and I went to high school and college together.”

  Kennedy’s eyes widened a fraction. So he wasn’t just Nate’s CTO but also his friend. And a good friend, by the sound of it. Funny, Aurora had never mentioned Jack to her. But then again, why should she? They’d had little reason to talk about Nate most of the time, much less his friends—even the ones who worked for him. It wasn’t as if their professional and social lives had intersected over the years. Today was a first and she and Aurora weren’t doing it in an official capacity.

  “And now you’re working together. That must be nice.”

  Jack chuckled and shot a glance at the podium before replying, “I don’t sign his checks—he signs mine. But I try not to hold that against him.”

  Kennedy didn’t know what to make of his remark. There was something there she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Jealousy? Envy? Or a man simply ragging on a close friend? Sometimes—not often—she read too much into things where additional scrutiny wasn’t warranted.

  “Aurora assures me he’s a wonderful boss, but she could be biased,” she quipped.

  Jack snorted a laugh. “You can’t believe a word she says. In her eyes, he can do no wrong. Speak of the devil...” His gaze drifted from hers as his voice trailed off.

  The din of the crowd increased to a swell as the man in question entered her line of vision to take his place behind the podium on the makeshift stage.

  Kennedy’s stomach dipped at the first sight of him looking every inch the handsome and successful CEO in a slate blue suit, the shirt unbuttoned at his throat. Nate hated ties.

  He gave the crowd of reporters a cursory look as he adjusted the microphone.

  “Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Nathaniel Vaughn, and I’m the founder and CEO of Constellation. I’d like to thank you all for coming. And I’m not going to take up too much of your time this afternoon,” he began. “As you’re all aware, Constellation is currently facing a lawsuit accusing the company of racial and gender discrimination. I would like you and everyone to know that I take these allegations very seriously and will do everything in my power to rectify the matter for all parties involved. The diversity of the staff is one of our greatest strengths and one of my biggest sources of pride. I value each and every one of our employees and am committed to making sure the path to advancement is open to everyone equally. Glass ceilings will not be tolerated at Constellation. That is all I have to say for now, and I’m willing to take a few questions before I go.”

  Hands immediately went up, as questions were pelted at him like tennis balls from an automatic launcher.

  “Do you intend to fight the case, or would you like to settle?”

  “Mr. Vaughn, do you have something against Black women?” A man shouted the question.

  Kennedy’s mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed. She recognized the reporter. He worked for one of the national twenty-four-hour cable news stations. Not once had she ever seen him ask a question and not be a dick about it. She called him a provocateur because that was his sole role. Got to get the sound bite that fueled the clicks.

  “Would you say the allegations in the lawsuit constitute a hostile work environment?” asked the woman sitting next to Aurora.

  Nate directed his attention to her, replying smoothly, “I believe the allegations would make for an unhappy employee and I intend to do whatever I can to change that, if at all possible.”

  “Mr. Vaughn, is it true that there were allegations of both racial and sexual harassment on the set of Calamity John?”

  Kennedy would tell herself later that she only responded because the reporter, who had taken God out of her thoughts (as her mother would say), to pose such an outrageous question, was standing feet from her. She was currently staring a hole in the back of her blond head.

  “What on earth does what happened on his father’s set twenty years ago have to do with Mr. Vaughn? If you have no relevant questions to ask, I suggest you allow the reporters who do to ask theirs.” Kennedy was a combination of annoyed and infuriated and it was evident in her voice. Her loud voice.

  8

  Silence landed with a thud and then blanketed the entire area for long enough for its impact to be felt and heard.

  The blonde turned and glared at her. It seemed everyone in attendance followed her lead, except the predominant expression on their faces was one of shock and then unabashed amusement.

  Jack let out a laugh-covering cough. Seriously, she didn’t know why he bothered. Miss Piggy attempting to hide behind a blade of glass was less obvious.

  Ignoring the woman she’d just publicly rebuked, Kennedy returned her attention to Nate, who was staring at her as if realizing her presence for the first time. She offered him a rueful smile. Ooops, sorry.

  But the offended reporter wasn’t about to allow Kennedy’s remarks to go uncontested. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are?”

  “I’m someone who knows an irrelevant question when I hear one,” she replied calmly.

  Jack leaned over and whispered, “We need to hire you.”

  Nate cleared his throat in an obvious effort to direct attention back to him. It mostly worked. “Miss Mitchell is right.What happened on my father’s set has nothing to do with this lawsuit. Next question?” He pointed at a female reporter seated in the back.

  The reporter opened with, “I have two questions. First, since it appears your company’s biggest issue is with Black women, how do you propose to address it? Second, do you believe that because senior management within the company is predominantly white and male, their lack of personal exposure to women of color negatively influences their judgment when dealing with them in a professional capacity?”

  The latter was a doozy of a question. Kennedy could only imagine how much Nate hated the situation he was in.

  “The company has hired an external law firm to investigate the allegations. That’s the first step. We’re also urging both current and former employees from historically underrepresented groups to come forward with relevant information or complaints. In the meantime, the company has implemented new diversity and inclusivity training for the senior management team and all hiring managers.”

  Kennedy’s eyebrows rose at that. She wondered if he wouldn’t mind letting her have a look at it. Not all classes were the same. And she had some ideas if he needed to have their résumé selection process redone.

  Stay out of it, a voice in her head warned.

  “Next question,” Nate said, pointing to another reporter.

  But the reporter who’d posed the two questions refused to let him move on without answering the other one. “Mr. Vaughn, do you believe that lack of personal exposure to women of color has created a discriminatory environment within your company?”

  Nate wasn’t close enough, but she knew him well enough to know his jaw was ticking. He had that stony, taut-jawed look on his face.

  “Until the investigation is complete, I’m going to refute your assumption that the environment in the company is discriminatory. As for the personal lives of the senior management staff, I’m not going to presume to know the diversity of their personal relationships.” He then directed his attention to the reporter he’d called on prior.

  “Following up with Miss Garcia’s question—”

  The reporters sure picked a fine time to tag team. Where was this sense of camaraderie when the world was on fire and answers were needed to more important questions?

  “—do you believe that the diversity of your own personal relationships have a bearing on what’s happened to the company? You’ve surrounded yourself with men who look like you. Does that indicate something about you and the example you’ve set?”

  Even Kennedy winced at that. No matter how bad they were making it look, they were wrong.

  Jack leaned over again and muttered under his breath, “I’m surprised you have nothing to say about that.”

  She did. And once again, loud enough that she didn’t need the amplification of a microphone. “The operative word here is personal, and I don’t think anyone here is entitled to know the details of Mr. Vaughn’s or any of his managers’ personal lives unless there’s proof of criminality or that it breaks the employment laws of the state.”

  Good lord, now she sounded like a lawyer. Or an avid watcher of Law & Order—all one hundred seasons. She was the one who wasn’t required to attend law school or pass the New York State Bar.

  Pressing his fist to his mouth, Jack muffled a laugh.

  This time when the attendees turned to regard her, they appeared more speculative than amused.

  “What are you, his spokesperson or something?” a male reporter called from across the room.

  Kennedy glanced at Nate, who looked decidedly uncomfortable and had her wondering at the overall soundness of the intelligence she professed to have.

  “Miss Mitchell is a friend,” Nate announced evenly. Nothing but the facts.

  A derisive snort was followed by, “An African American female friend. Very convenient.”

  It was the jackass provocateur at it again.