The Difference Between Us by Rachel Higginson
She waved me off. “You’d do the same for me.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for.”
“It’s true,” she smiled again. “We drink together, we survive boring meetings together, but most of all we save each other from perverted bosses that try to feel us up next to the copier.
I couldn’t even force a laugh, it was too close to the truth to be funny. “Gross.”
“Text me later,” she hollered at my back.
“Will do!”
Even though I took the long way around the office, I still made it to Henry’s office in no time. He sat at his computer, staring thoughtfully at paperwork. My nose wrinkled with disgust automatically. I would rather be so many other places than his office right now. Like getting a root canal. Or a Brazilian wax. Or renewing my license at the DMV. Anything would be better than stepping into this office alone with this man.
I plastered on a professional, but blank expression and knocked on the half-opened door. “You wanted to see me?”
He looked up at me and smiled, his gaze traveling down the length of me before settling on my boobs. “Come in, Molly. Have a seat.”
With one last helpless glance around as my coworkers filtered out for the night, I finally gave up on escaping and did as he asked. He watched me sit down and cross my legs before he stood up and joined me in the chair usually reserved for Ethan.
Turning to me, he leaned forward and plucked the pen I’d been nervously clicking out of my hands. “That’s annoying,” he said casually.
“Sorry.” I cleared my throat, hating that I apologized so reflexively. “Nervous habit.”
“What is there to be nervous about?” he asked. “I’m not scary.”
You’re terrifying. “I don’t even notice I’m doing it.”
“Well, relax. It’s all good things today.”
“About the Black Soul account?” I asked, mostly as a way to keep him on task. “Have you heard back about the new mock-ups?”
His smile stretched. “Yes, I have. Molly, they’re very impressed with your work. They wanted me to pass on the word that everything is coming along perfectly.”
It should have felt amazing to receive praise from a high-profile client. This was what I’d set out to do. I’d wanted this account for the sole purpose of impressing them. And yet… it fell flat.
I’d given up every one of my original designs and interesting ideas to cater to their style and lackluster vision. They were the client, so of course it made sense. But realizing all of the concessions I had made to please them lessened any pride I felt in the project.
I wasn’t really the mastermind behind a widely successful social media account—they were. I was the grunt that simply did their bidding.
That was obviously my job. They were paying me to bring their vision to life, not my own. My entire profession revolved around pleasing business owners and giving them what they wanted.
But for some reason, at this level, I had been expecting more. More freedom. More creative control. More room to be innovative, and take risks, and try new things. The reality was that I had less of everything. I had more of a leash than ever.
I was more dissatisfied than ever.
To Henry, I managed a weak smile. “That’s great.”
“It is,” he agreed, missing my lack of enthusiasm completely. “I took a risk on you, sweetheart. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to know it paid off.” His hand patted my knee and then stayed there.
I crossed my legs the other way, knocking his hand free. My shoulders pushed back and I sat up straighter, instantly on the defensive. “Glad to know it paid off for you.”
“I could have gone with anyone,” he added. “But I knew there was something special about you. Something I just couldn’t resist.”
My tongue was like a stone in my mouth, heavy and gritty, unwilling to show him gratitude. “Did you have more to say about the account, Henry?”
He looked over my shoulder at the now empty office. “You know, the client isn’t the only one impressed by what you did. I really enjoyed working with you. I think we made a great team.”
“Ethan helped,” I added slightly hysterical. I hated how he kept grouping us together, as if he could take credit for my job well done or worse, as if it meant something more than what it did. “Ethan is the reason either of us could do our job well.”
He ignored me, choosing instead to move his appreciative gaze over my fully clothed body as if I were sitting there buck naked. His hand landed on my thigh this time—flat, wide, and grossly heavy. “There are a lot of pretty girls out there, Molly. But I have to tell you, you are definitely one of the sexiest in this office.”
My goodwill dried up immediately. That wasn’t a nice thing to say. At best, it was a backhanded compliment. In reality, it was offensively out of line, and unwelcome. But the little Tucker had his head too far up his own ass to realize that. “Henry, if you don’t have anything else to say about the account, I’m going to leave.”
His eyelids hooded and his smile softened to only mildly condescending. “We make a good team, honey. I think we should try out our talents in other areas.”
Jumping to my feet, I moved as far away from Henry as possible. Unfortunately, I ended up cornering myself against the wall furthest from the door. My heart raced and my blood rushed with adrenaline. This was not happening. “I’m not comfortable with you talking to me like that,” I said firmly, sounding braver than I was.
He stood up too, pushing my chair to the side so he could walk straight to me. “Come on now, Molly. I gave you the biggest opportunity you’ve had yet. I went to bat for you. I included you on a project with a big fat commission. Don’t you think you should return the favor?”
My sense of professional pride took a serious hit. “I’m good at what I do,” I argued for some stupid reason. “You picked me because I was best suited for the job.”
He rolled his eyes even while he moved closer to me, crowding me against a filing cabinet. “I picked Ethan because he was best suited for the job. I picked you because you have the nicest rack in the office. You should feel flattered.” He leaned forward, pushing into my space. His hand reached out to touch me, but I swatted it away before he made contact. He looked mildly annoyed. “You should be grateful.”
I didn’t feel flattered. I sure as hell did not feel grateful. I felt disgusted. “You’re a pig,” I snarled. “And maybe HR is afraid of you, but I’m not. Back off, Henry. Tomorrow your dad can hear all about how you talk to women around the office. I’ve tried to be professional about this. I’ve tried to go through the right channels. But I’m done putting up with this misogynistic bullshit from you. You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’ll let you touch me.”
His smile disappeared and his face soured, speckling red with fury. “Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth and let those tits get you a promotion.”
My hand processed his words before my brain fully comprehended how awful they were. My palm hitting his cheek resounded with a loud smack, making him grunt at the impact. His head turned to the side as he brought his hand up to cradle his face.
Mine tingled as it settled back against my side in a fist. My entire body shook with rage and humiliation and unshed tears. “Keep your promotion,” I growled, venom dripping from every word. “And your help. I don’t want any of it. Stay away from me.”
His head snapped back to mine as he repositioned his body quickly to keep me from fleeing. “Relax, Molly, we’re just having some fun.” He slid his finger down the front of my blouse. I knocked it away, but he wasn’t deterred. “You owe me this. You fucking owe me this.”
I had never felt as sickened by someone’s words or humiliated. Fury vibrated through me, chased quickly by panic and frustration. I wanted to cry, but mostly I wanted to knee this asshole in the balls so hard he would choke on them, then run away.
Instead, I pushed him away and scrambled past him. “You’re a disgusting bastard,” I b
He slumped against the edge of his desk, running a hand through his greasy hair. His smug smile reappeared, confidence twinkling in his narrowed eyes. “Nobody’s going to believe you, doll. You messed up. This is my company, my house. You’re done.”
I paused at the door, finally speaking the words I had wanted to say for weeks. “Fuck you.”
His grin widened. “That’s what I was trying to do!”
Oh my god, what an asshole. I fled the office, rushing past a desk that I would be happy to never return to. I grabbed my purse, but abandoned my laptop. It was the company’s anyway and I wanted nothing to do with anything that belonged to STS.
Not unless they fired Henry Tucker.
I didn’t take a breath until I was safely in my car and out of the parking garage. My hands trembled aggressively as I tried to see through frustrated tears. My stomach roiled as I fought the urge to puke. My mind spun and spun and spun with the entire spectrum of emotions I couldn’t land on.
I was angry. Furious. Outraged. Anything and everything mad. But I was also shocked in a way that made me feel completely detached from what had happened. Had he really come on to me? Had he really said those awful things? Offered a promotion for sleeping with him?
The whole thing felt violently strange. Should I go to the police? Had he committed a crime? Or was this something the office had to handle.
I loathed the idea of making a scene about this, of drawing attention to myself over his horrific behavior. I hated the idea of having to talk to his dad, confessing Henry’s intentions and sharing the disgusting words he’d said. I knew I had to. I knew that I was right. But that didn’t negate the embarrassment and humiliation on my part. I would have to face both things—doing what was right and owning up to the rumors, reputation and reality of what had happened.
More tears surfaced. I was probably more frustrated than anything. I hated conflict, and I also hated being the center of attention on me, and now I would have to face both. Not because of anything I did, but because of the grotesque actions of someone else.
“It’s not fair,” I hiccupped uselessly in the car. Which, of course, it wasn’t. But what a ridiculous thing to say. Especially in light of everything that had happened. Especially acknowledging all that did not happen, all that I avoided by running away.
Rationally, I knew that it could have been worse. I realized that Henry had held back. He hadn’t physically assaulted me. He hadn’t raped me. He hadn’t hurt me. But that didn’t make his actions more right or less wrong. He still had behaved in the worst possible way. There were just certain things I needed to be grateful for.
I sniffled, blindly grabbing for a tissue from my purse. Wiping my eyes, I tried to decide on my next plan of action, but I couldn’t make sense of my thoughts.
I had likely just lost my job. Henry had his dad’s ear. He was set to take over in the next couple years. He was future CEO, and my boss, and an integral part of SixTwentySix. I was nobody. And before Black Soul, the project Henry had given me, I had worked on the lowest of all the projects.
It was his word against mine.
Which meant I better update my resume.
And even if I didn’t get fired for this, did I really want to go back? What if Henry didn’t take over his dad’s job? What if he only stayed on as an employee? It was no longer a place I could see a future at or even contemplate finishing out the week.
I pulled into the parking lot without knowing where I was heading. I couldn’t remember consciously deciding to drive here.
The wall of ivy was blooming vibrantly green, and the tree in the courtyard had budded with dainty white flowers. The building looked bewitching framed by the golden, setting sun. Bianca was the safe haven I needed.
I didn’t overthink my choice to find Ezra. I didn’t even think far enough ahead to worry if he would be here or not. I just needed him to tell me everything was okay when everything felt decidedly not okay. I needed his calm stability to sooth the fiery nerves exploding beneath my skin. I needed his strong arms wrapped around me, reminding me that there were good, decent men in this world.
And beyond what I wasn’t able to think through and rationalize, I just needed him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I bypassed the hostess, the floor manager, an army of waiters, and headed straight into Bianca’s kitchen. Unlike at Lilou where Ezra’s office was separate from the main kitchen, in Bianca, his workplace was tucked in the back of the expansive kitchen area.
The kitchen was abuzz with activity as cooks hurried around in their professional attire—toques bobbing between stations. Another difference between Lilou and Bianca was the way service ran. At Lilou, with Wyatt in charge, everything flowed directly from him. Maybe it wasn’t always smooth or easy-going, but Wyatt was the source and the kitchen moved in a kind of synchronized chaos around him. Like the mouth of a mighty river.
Bianca wasn’t a steady-pathed stream. Or even a turbulent current. At least not tonight. She was the ocean in the middle of a hurricane. Chefs were shouting demands back and forth at each other, cursing furiously. The air was tight with tension and panic. Dishes clanked on messy surfaces and orders were bellowed from one side of the room to the other. I related in a way I never thought I would.
Several of the kitchen and wait staff paused in their frantic activity to watch me as I slinked along the edges, trying not to draw attention. Too late.
“I’m just here for Ezra,” I muttered, doubting any of them heard me anyway.
I had only been back here once and it was not during dinner service. It was on one of the Saturday mornings I had painted. Ezra had given me a little tour and then we’d made out in the cooler.
There hadn’t been anyone here then. The kitchen had seemed huge and empty and void of life. Now it was the opposite. Crammed with people running in every direction, the space no longer appeared big enough to accommodate all of Ezra’s staff. It was all madness and mayhem and delicious food, and I loved it.
I loved every part of it.
Any other day I would have grabbed my phone and taken video of the flurry of activity to post online. I would have captioned it #workvibes and watched social media go crazy over the interesting aspects of how a five-star plate of food is made.
Not that it mattered now. My future at STS looked grim. Instead of one-minute videos and interesting hashtags, I was going to be busking portraits on a busy street corner instead. Excuse me, ma’am, can I interest you in a caricature? I promise to make your boobs and head look ginormous.
That was my life now, a big-boob drawing chalk artist. #lifegoals.
Thankfully, Ezra was in his office when I finally scuttled back there. Nerves assaulted my already weak heart as I realized I should have texted or called first, or at least let him meet me out front. He wasn’t expecting me. He probably wasn’t ready to see me…
“Molly.” He looked up at me from behind his desk, his tie tugged loose and his fingers poised on a keyboard mid-email. His mouth split open in a warm smile and I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. “I was just sending a note to ask if you wanted to do dinner.”
Seeing him there, behind his desk, tired from a long day but happy to see me, did something permanent to my shaky spirit. My chin trembled and I pressed my lips together in a valiant effort to hold back hot tears.
He noticed my emotional state, pushed back in his chair and leaped to standing. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head, unable to speak for fear of sobbing again.
“Come here,” he demanded.
This time I didn’t have a single problem doing what he asked. I threw my body into his and let his arms tighten around me, holding me to him. I didn’t wail, sob, or scream like I thought I would, but I couldn’t help the few rogue tears that slipped out.
I crushed my body against
And I gratefully clung to him, soaking up every second of this man that had come to mean so much to me over the last few months.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice low and soft, but edgy too—prepared to fight. For me, I hoped. I didn’t have it in me to fight with him tonight.
My arms tightened around him. “I was at work…” I sniffled, feeling pathetic all over again. “My boss… We were working on a project and he came onto me.”
Ezra’s entire body stiffened, tightened, and readied for battle. “He did what?”
“But not in a nice way,” I hiccupped. I pulled back, drying my eyes with the back of my hand and getting a grip on my wild emotions. I bravely met Ezra’s hard glare and confessed what happened. “He’s been harassing me for a while. Always saying inappropriate things or accidentally touching me. But he’s the CEO’s son. When I complained to HR, they accused me of making something out of nothing. They made it seem like I was a drama queen. And before maybe it wasn’t anything… I wasn’t afraid of Henry at that point, he was more obnoxious than dangerous. He irritated me and disgusted me, but he didn’t scare me. Then this afternoon, he called me into his office to discuss the client we’re working together on, and that’s when he took things too far.”
I told Ezra everything, the horrible things he’d said to me, how he felt entitled to me because of the project, how he threatened to fire me. Ezra listened attentively, his body coiling with his reaction the longer my story went on. His jaw ticked with every mention of Henry, and he never once let go of me. Not once.
“I don’t know what to do,” I told him. “I don’t know how to go back into that office and deal with those people… with Henry.”