Unleashed (The Elliott Brothers #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

T oday was the day. Six years at Abbott and Associates, and this was my shot. I’d busted my ass—being the only woman in a department of fifteen engineers—sacrificing weekends, nights with friends, and parties to prove myself. It wasn’t just about doing the job; I had to do it better than my male counterparts, which pissed me off. I was almost certain they were getting paid more, too.

But that was the way things were. Two of the men I was hired with straight out of college had already climbed higher, while I worked longer hours, took on more projects, and was still overlooked. The countless times I’d had a chance to advance, only to have it slip through my fingers, were too many to count. But now, with Wesley Harkman retiring, this promotion was supposed to be mine.

A sharp knock on my door jolted me from my thoughts.

"Morgan, are you in there?"

Slade Abbott. My heart did that stupid flutter thing it always did when he was near. “Come in,” I called, straightening up in my chair.

The door creaked open, and there he stood—tall, broad, and every bit the distraction I didn’t need today. His square jaw, the thick waves of chocolate-brown hair, and those mocha-colored eyes could disarm anyone. He was dressed in a black suit that hugged his biceps, making him look effortlessly powerful. My schoolgirl crush resurfaced, uninvited.

“Did you have lunch yet?” His voice was casual, but there was always something in the way he looked at me that made my pulse quicken.

“I’m finishing up the Accelerator Concepts plans,” I replied, trying to sound unaffected, though my pulse betrayed me.

He cocked an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “We’ve got three more days before those are due.”

“I know, but I want to finish early,” I said, glancing down at the clutter of papers spread across my desk.

Slade sauntered in, taking the lone gray chair in front of my desk. He sprawled out, relaxed, and looked too comfortable. “You work too hard.”

“It’s how I’m wired. You should know that by now,” I replied, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.

“I do. But I also know you should be out enjoying life a little.”

I shot him a pointed look. “Did you at my age?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Yeah, I did. Dad wasn’t exactly thrilled about it though.” He leaned forward slightly, as if sharing a secret. “That was before you got here.”

“So, you cleaned up your act,” I teased, my tone softening. “Look at you now.”

He scratched at the two-day scruff on his jaw, giving me a lopsided grin. “Vice President. It’s easy when your father owns the company.”

I paused, my fingers curling around the pen I’d been holding. “Do you know anything?” I asked, my voice quieter, a little more tense.

His grin faded as he shook his head. “I told you; I’m not involved in the decision. Dad thought I was too close to everyone here to weigh in.”

I knew I was going to get fucked with this promotion. I’d been overlooked before and today would be no different though I tried to think positive.

I leaned forward, eyes narrowing as I studied him. “Do you think I have a chance?” My fingers toyed with the edge of my papers as I waited for his answer, the tension in the room rising.

“You’ve got as good a chance as anyone else.” He shrugged, but his eyes flicked away for a second, betraying the neutral tone.

“That doesn’t tell me anything, Slade.” I let out a frustrated breath, flipping my long black hair over my shoulder in frustration. “I deserve this.”

“I know you do,” he said, sitting up straighter. “But so do some of the others.”

I ground my teeth together. “I’ve been here longer than the other guys who haven’t been promoted. The two who were hired with me have moved up. Why not me?”

“I don’t have an answer for that,” he said softly, as if the weight of my words hit him.

I stared at him, my chest tightening. “Do you think I’m experienced enough?”

His eyes softened. “Yes, Morgan. You’re more than qualified. You’re polished.”

“Polished?” I echoed, a bitter laugh slipping out. “What does that even mean?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” he started, his voice hesitant. “But you’re perfect—maybe too perfect.”

Ah, here it came, the excuse for why I was overlooked time and time again. Working in a male dominated field sucked and with each promotion I didn’t get, my confidence dropped.

I blinked at him, confused. “Too perfect?”

“Intimidating,” he corrected, his gaze flicking to my face, then down to his hands.

“Intimidating?” I raised an eyebrow, my heart pounding in disbelief. “You find me intimidating?”

“Not me, no,” he said quickly. “But I think your looks... well, they make some men uncomfortable.”

“What?” I slammed my fist on the desk, making pens and paperclips scatter. “That’s ridiculous! You’re saying my looks are holding me back?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” he said, wincing slightly at my reaction. “I’m just saying?—”

“Men are idiots,” I muttered, biting down on my lip so hard I tasted the gloss as it smeared.

“We are,” Slade admitted with a small smile, leaning back in his chair. “Especially when it comes to women like you.”

I leaned back too, the anger simmering under my skin as I stared him down. “Women like me?”

“Beautiful women,” he said, his voice dropping a little, almost a confession.

My breath hitched. “You find me attractive?”

“Duh, of course I do,” Slade said, his grin lazy but his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But, you know, I’m a boss, and I probably shouldn’t be saying these things. Could be misconstrued as sexual harassment.”

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t get all bothered by a compliment.”

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck like he was weighing his next words. “Still, it’s inappropriate. Please don’t get me fired,” he added, flashing that boyish grin that could charm anyone.

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “You’re safe, Slade. Don’t worry.”

He joined in with a chuckle before glancing at his watch. “Anyway, I came in here for a reason. The announcement’s at the end of the day. You should be in the conference room at 4:30.”

My heart did a little flip, though I tried to hide it, keeping my voice even. “4:30, huh?”

Slade stood, adjusting his gray tie, which perfectly matched the sharp lines of his suit. “Yeah. Just a few more hours.” He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ve got a better shot than most of the guys in there. I’m rooting for you.”

His words made my chest tighten just a little, hope mingling with the anxiety that had been gnawing at me all day. “Thanks, Slade. I hope you’re right.”

He gave me one last smile, that warm, genuine one that always made things feel a little easier, before slipping out the door. As it clicked shut, I found myself chewing on the end of my pen again, staring at the papers in front of me, but not really seeing them.

I glanced at the clock. A few more hours until I found out whether everything I’d worked for was finally going to pay off.

The air in the conference room felt suffocating, heavy with anticipation. Twenty people—nineteen men and me—sat in tense silence, waiting for Keaton Abbott to make the announcement. The faint hum of the air conditioning kicking on barely masked the sound of my heartbeat thudding in my ears. I wrinkled my nose when the breeze pushed Carl Verelli’s overpowering cologne my way. He always reeked like an old man’s aftershave, despite being the same age as me.

A sharp cough escaped me just as Keaton Abbott strode to the front of the room, his presence demanding attention. At fifty-eight, with silver hair and thick, serious eyebrows, he looked like a man who didn’t tolerate mistakes. He smiled—a polite, practiced one—and cleared his throat. Instantly, the room went silent.

“As you all know,” Keaton began, his voice calm but commanding, “Wesley Harkman is retiring after thirty years with Abbott and Associates.”

The room’s eyes shifted to Wesley, who nervously mopped sweat from his bald head. I stifled a grimace. Wesley had always been insufferable—obnoxious, loud, and with the worst breath imaginable. He gave a half-hearted wave, keeping his mouth shut for once.

“In light of that,” Keaton continued, “we need to fill his position as supervisor of the engineering department. Many of you are qualified, but only one can take the reins.” His gaze swept over the room, and my pulse quickened as it locked on mine.

This was it. After six years of busting my ass, of being overlooked, it was finally my turn. Keaton’s eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, and I inhaled, waiting for my name to be called.

“Let’s give congratulations to Thomas Marsden,” Keaton announced, his voice lifting in celebration.

The world tilted. My heart stopped. My hands clenched into fists under the table. Around me, applause erupted as if on cue. I pasted a smile on my face, though my stomach churned with rage. My eyes found Slade, who sat a few chairs down, and he gave me a look of sympathy, his brow furrowed.

I forced myself to clap, but inside, I was ready to scream. Thomas Marsden? Are you fucking kidding me? He was nothing but an ass-kisser. I seethed, my jaw tight, thinking about how often he brown-nosed his way through meetings. If Thomas thought I was going to work under him, he was delusional.

The moment the applause died down, I slipped out of the conference room, my heels clicking sharply against the floor as I hurried toward my office.

“Morgan!” Slade called from behind me.

I spun on my heel, glaring at him as he jogged to catch up. “Thomas Marsden?” I spat. “He’s hardly qualified. He’s been here four years! I’ve been here for almost seven!”

Slade sighed, grabbing my elbow gently but firmly as he steered me into my office. Once the door shut behind us, he spoke in a low, calming tone.

“My father felt he was the better fit,” he said.

“Better fit than me?!” I hissed, yanking my arm free and sinking into my chair, feeling the weight of defeat crush my chest. “This is bullshit, Slade.”

“Don’t do this, Morgan,” he said, his tone pleading. “Your time will come.”

I leaned forward, glaring at him. “Will it? When? How many more years do I have to be passed over before I’m allowed to say enough is enough?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But you’re good. You’ll get your due.”

I snorted, bitterness curling my lip. “When I grow a pair of balls? Because that’s apparently what it takes around here.”

Slade winced, but I wasn’t done.

“Maybe it’s time I start looking elsewhere. I’ve got enough experience, and I’m sure there are companies out there that would actually appreciate what I bring to the table.”

He took a step closer, his brow creasing. “You offer plenty here. You’ve gotten great reviews and raises. Why do you need a supervisory position?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Leverage. This place is rife with harassment, Slade. You think I don’t hear the comments? The guys here talk about my ass, about what they think I’m like in bed.”

And it was. The good, old boys’ club. I don’t know how many times I came up on a conversation about me and not in a good way. The disgusting things they said they wanted to do to me.

Slade’s face turned pale, his soft brown eyes widening. “Who? Who the fuck is saying that? We have policies?—”

I cut him off with a bitter laugh. “Policies? Sure. And if I report it, I’ll just be the bitch who wants to castrate her co-workers. I’d rather just ignore it.”

“I’m not condoning that behavior, Morgan, and neither should you.” His voice sharpened with anger. “Tell me who it is. I’ll make sure it stops.”

I leaned back, folding my arms over my chest. “And make the situation worse? No, thanks. It’s easier to leave.”

Slade’s jaw clenched. “To go where?”

“You think I haven’t had offers? Headhunters have been calling. I’ve turned them down, but maybe that was a mistake.”

“Abbott doesn’t want to lose you,” he said softly. “You’re valuable.”

“Not valuable enough,” I muttered.

Slade stared at me for a moment, something shifting in his expression. “If it were up to me, it would’ve been you.”

I looked away, the sting of disappointment burning in my throat. I pressed my lips together and took a breath, struggling to keep my voice steady. "The die has been cast. Your father and the other executives made their choice."

Slade took a step closer, his voice soft but determined. "Let me talk to my father."

"Why bother?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "I’m just a pretty face to him."

His brow furrowed as he shook his head. "You’re so much more than that. You have a brilliant mind."

"And I’ll never be rewarded for it. Not here." I shot back, my frustration boiling over. "I’ve been here almost seven years, Slade. How long do I have to wait?"

He sighed, the weight of my words sinking in. "If it were up to me, it would’ve been you."

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "But it wasn’t your choice, was it? Your father made the decision, and he doesn’t see my value. He never has."

"Don’t leave." His voice had an edge of desperation now, his hand brushing against mine as if trying to hold on. "Please, Morgan. Give me a chance to fix this."

I pulled my hand away, my heart heavy with the reality of it all. "I don’t have a reason to stay anymore."

"Give me a few days, at least," he pleaded, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hope. "Let me see what I can do."

I exhaled sharply, the frustration settling in my chest. "Fine. A few days. But that's all."

I stood, smoothing my skirt and tucking my sleeveless ivory blouse into place. "If you’ll excuse me, it’s after five, and I deserve to leave at a normal hour for once."

Slade rose as well, watching me with those familiar, soft brown eyes. "I agree. Go have a drink, relax."

I grabbed my tan raincoat from the stand by the desk and slipped it on. The patter of rain from earlier in the day still drummed against the windows, matching the heaviness in my chest. "I need to see my parents," I said, avoiding his gaze.

He hesitated. "How’s your father?"

"Not good," I replied quietly. "His arthritis is flaring up again."

"I’m sorry, Morgan." His voice softened. "You know I’m always in your corner, right?"

I looked at him for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. "Thank you."

Without another word, I turned and walked toward the door. Slade followed me out of my office and down the hall to the elevators. As we passed the conference room, I could hear the muffled voices of the engineers still celebrating Thomas Marsden’s promotion. The urge to flee washed over me.

"Think about staying," Slade said, squeezing my hand gently as we reached the elevator.

I pulled away, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the lobby. "I’m not sure I have a reason to."

The doors slid shut, and Slade’s concerned face disappeared from view. As the elevator began to descend, I leaned back against the cool, steel wall, closing my eyes. Once, Slade and I had shared something—a spark, a connection. But whatever it had been, it wasn’t enough to change the reality of our worlds. He had been born into privilege, while I had scraped by, working since I was fourteen just to afford what my friends got handed to them.

My parents weren’t rich; they were hardworking, proud people who had sacrificed so much to raise me. After years of trying, they finally had me thanks to in vitro, when my mother was forty-three and my father forty-five. Now in their seventies, they lived on a modest retirement income in Rockland County. Every time I saw them, it reminded me why I worked so hard—why I couldn’t allow myself to settle.

The elevator stopped at the next three floors, more people piling in. I pressed myself into the corner, trying to ignore the man next to me whose overwhelming scent of onions clung to my nostrils. He was too close, his poorly disguised comb-over making me avert my eyes. I stared up at the ceiling, counting the seconds until I could escape.

Finally, the doors opened and I made my way to the bustling Manhattan street. People rushed past, hurrying home or ducking into bars for after-work drinks. Normally, the energy of the city would lift me, but tonight it felt suffocating. I wasn’t in the mood to join the crowd.

Pulling my coat tighter, I stepped into the rain, the cool droplets mingling with the heat of frustration still simmering inside me. Slade wanted me to stay, but staying meant accepting things as they were. I wasn’t sure I could do that anymore.