a hostess at Savoy, and I need to get her out.”
“Why?”
“Because I do. That should be enough.”
He shrugged again. “It’s not.”
“Well, I can’t tell you why. But you said you wanted to fix this.” She pointed at him. “Those were your exact words, and this is how you can fix it.”
“How does hiring someone else fix your getting fired?”
“I’m not asking you to fix that. I’m asking you to help a young woman get out of a bad situation.”
It might have just been her imagination, but Liv could’ve sworn that a vein popped along his jaw. “What kind of bad situation?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
She gave him a blank stare. “It’s a bad situation.”
Mack stood abruptly, walked to the door, and swung it shut. When he turned back, he adopted a bouncer’s stance and a stern expression. “How bad?”
“Really, really bad.”
“Does this have something to do with you getting fired?”
“Does that matter?”
“It does if you want me to hire this girl.”
“You have openings. I know someone who needs a job. The details shouldn’t make a difference.”
“Humor me.”
It took her five minutes to get the entire story out, but it took all of one for Mack’s blood pressure to rise and his vision to blur. He couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. He jerked his hands through his hair and forced himself to sit down in the chair opposite his desk.
That sonuvabitch. He was going to destroy him. He was going to tear the motherfucker apart.
“Did he—” Mack had trouble getting the words past the thick swell of I will fuck someone up that was blocking his vocal chords. “Did he ever do that to you?”
“No,” Liv said, hesitating for a split second. “But I don’t think this was the first time he’s done it. He was way too confident about it and way too unconcerned about being caught.”
“We have to do something,” Mack rasped.
Liv gave him a look. “We aren’t going to do anything.”
“He can’t get away with this.”
“I don’t plan on letting him, but the only thing I need you to do is to hire Jessica.”
He needed water. Rage was turning his throat to sandpaper.
Liv stood up. “I’ll be in touch. And if you could please not tell Gavin or Thea about any of this until I figure out how to do it, that would be great.”
She walked toward the door, threw it open, and breezed through. Holy shit. How many times was this woman going to walk out on him?
Mack leaped up and followed her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Where are you going?”
Sonia, who was sitting at her cubicle outside his office, swiveled in her chair and watched the drama with unabashed amusement. Yeah, yeah, so he’d never literally chased after a woman before. Big fucking deal.
Mack gripped Liv’s elbow and tugged her back to keep their conversation private. Liv sighed, exasperation written across her face. “What?”
“What the hell did that mean?”
“Which part?”
“The part about making the bastard pay.”
She gave him a duh look. “It means what it means. I’m going to expose him and ruin the bastard.”
“By yourself?”
Liv shrugged. “Why not?”
“You can’t do this by yourself. If he really does have a history of this, then he knows how to hide it. How exactly do you think you’re going to expose him? You can’t just go to the media and tell them what you saw and heard.”
“That’s not my plan, but thanks for treating me like an idiot.”
“What is your plan, then?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but I will. Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Mack said, feeling his equilibrium return for the first time. Because, of this, he was absolutely certain. Men who abused women deserved to pay. He didn’t care what it took. If Royce Preston was preying on women, Mack was going to stop him. “I want in.”
Liv snorted. “You want in.”
“I’m going to try not to be insulted by that noise, but yes. If Preston is a predator, I want him exposed too.”
Liv gave him a look that screamed skepticism and distrust. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned on one hip. “You sure about that? Because I saw you with him that night at Savoy. All buddy-buddy, let’s get together. You guys are pals. You expect me to believe you didn’t know about this?”
“No, I didn’t know about this. Jesus.” Mack dragged his hands over his hair. Was that really what she thought of him? That he would cover for a sexual harasser?
“Well, someone had to know. Men like