Please contact me at your earliest convenience so we can schedule an interview, this afternoon if possible.
Ned read the email twice more, then sat back. Well. Maybe they had discovered what was going on, maybe the case was over…
Ned's heart sank a little. He had been enjoying it. Seeing Nancy every day, even if their interaction was limited to breaks and having lunch together, was great, and knowing he was here if she needed protection was even better.
With a sigh, he checked his calendar and suggested two o'clock. The reply popped into his inbox so fast that he thought he had somehow missed another email, but no—two o'clock was fine. No indication about what the meeting was regarding.
Hey. Did you get an email from HR?
Nancy's reply came ten minutes later. Haven't been checking. Let me look…
Ned smothered his chuckle. Nancy wasn't used to working in any conventional sense; for her, jobs were just part of her costume. She was conscientious enough to observe most of the conventions, but when she was on a case, most of the finer details fell away—like habitually checking her email to make sure she wasn't missing anything. If he knew her, she had come up with some excuse to spend time on the third floor, and was almost certainly wearing a barely-workplace-appropriate miniskirt.
And that, Ned needed to not think about. He had his own work to do, dammit, and the outfit she had been wearing yesterday had been strategic in every sense of the word. He had barely been able to let her out of his sight, knowing how other men were, how her quarry was, likely to see her. Not to mention how he saw her, which drove him to distraction.
Her reply arrived. Nothing.
At lunchtime they were pulled into opposite groups; Ned worked part of it completing a time-sensitive project, and his boss took him out to celebrate. Nancy was using the time to build her relationship with the other interns, and since Ned didn’t expect a lot of trouble from that angle, he relaxed a bit.
And that seemed like a mistake, when Ms. Quillen gestured for him to sit down, then closed the door, her expression severe.
He was a minute early, too, and sat forward, anticipating the first words. How long have you been looking into Holland’s behavior?
Instead, Ms. Quillen tried to soften her glare, failed, and took a deep breath. “Some allegations have been made,” she began.
Ned almost nodded, but caught himself. He didn’t want to do anything hasty. He kept his expression as close to open, neutral, and interested as he could.
“Are you familiar with Ms. Monroe? She’s a new intern, started ten days ago.”
Ned’s poker face miraculously stayed intact. “Oh. Yes, I've met her. Did something happen? Is she all right?”
Ms. Quillen pressed her lips together, and Ned reminded himself: even if she had made some progress on her case, it wasn’t his business, from Ms. Quillen’s perspective. “Were you in the copy room with Ms. Monroe yesterday? Yes or no, please.”
A very unwelcome rush of heat bloomed in Ned’s blood, and he could feel it in the tips of his ears. “Yes,” he said slowly, trying for innocence. After all, he was in the copy room several times a day. By itself, that didn't mean anything.
“Did you close the door?”
It had closed, yes, though the more appropriate word was “slammed.” She had been so fucking wet and he’d had to stifle her groan of pleasure with a kiss, feeling her arch against his hand as he’d—
“Yes, but only to open the cabinet for the high-quality copy paper.”
Ms. Quillen’s gaze, already narrowed, became a glare for an instant before she caught herself. “The door remained closed for approximately how long, would you say? For this paper retrieval?”
Ned swallowed. “Longer than it should have been,” he admitted, with a quick, apologetic smile, a man who knew he had been caught. Dammit. They had known better. The copy room was a high-traffic area.
Somehow that had made it even more exciting, but it was still dumb as hell.
“How long?”
“Well, the first set jammed, I had to get more, and Ms. Monroe was helping. Maybe five minutes?”
“Or, possibly, closer to ten.” The barest intonation at the end, the inquisitive lilt, just punctuated her incredulity. “Are you engaged in a relationship of a—romantic—nature with Ms. Monroe?”
A slender folder, closed, was on Ms. Quillen’s desk, and Ned knew what was inside. The internship application submitted by Ms. Monroe, stating that she was barely seventeen and hoping to make connections and become an asset to the company during the time she spent here, specifically focusing on seasoned employees as possible mentors.
In any other situation, Ned would have laughed, loud and long. Nancy was undercover for this very reason—it was just that, instead of her actual target, Ned had been caught in the net.
It was his own damn fault. He had known better.
But Ms. Quillen was doing her thankless job, asking if he had committed statutory rape on company property during work hours, taking advantage of a young inexperienced woman who had been full of optimism and ambition.
"Mr. Nickerson."
He swallowed. "I will make sure to keep all doors open from now on."
She blinked. "I know this is likely an uncomfortable conversation, but I'd appreciate your honesty."
"My relationship with her isn't inappropriate." That was true. It just didn't match the version of the facts she had in front of her, but he also really, really didn't want to blow her cover.
"I'll be having a conversation with her momentarily. Might her version of events disagree with your own? Or do you recall anything else that you think you should add?"
Ned forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out. "I can't imagine that it was all that notable for her," he replied. "She must visit the copy room a dozen times a day. I can't imagine her account would differ from mine in any substantial way, no."
Ms. Quillen gazed at him for a moment longer, then shook her head. "If there are instances of inappropriate workplace conduct, it's important that we know what happened," she said, more quietly. "And I'll take this time to remind you of the company policies on morality and on fraternization, specifically with interns, particularly with interns who are not legally able to consent to physical relationships. Especially while on company property."
Shit. From her perspective, based on what Ms. Quillen knew, Ned was absolute garbage—to be caught in a compromising situation with an underage employee. That secondhand embarrassment, above the knowledge that he really had fucked up by having semi-public sex with his girlfriend, was mortifying.
"Please check your email after this meeting for a reminder, and review the documentation as soon as possible. As you say, from here on out, no closed doors. Nothing that could be construed as inappropriate. If you think of anything else, please contact me."
Ned nodded, trying not to immediately spring out of his chair and flee the room. "For what it's worth, I appreciate you looking out for her," he said. "I'd hate to imagine that anyone working here might feel pressured into an uncomfortable situation."
Ms. Quillen softened just a little, but her gaze was no less sharp—and Ned could imagine that many predators made similar statements, pretending anyone else might be the problem, maybe even believing that themselves. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Nickerson."
–-
Nancy tugged the elastics out of her hair, sighing in relief as she tousled it to loosen it up some. She blotted the bubblegum-pink lipstick a few times, slicked some muting lip gloss over it, and slipped the tube back into her purse, then tugged her skirt down. Better, though she still didn't quite look her age, which was the point.
The HR offices were in the administration suite, and Nancy smiled briefly at the receptionist before approaching Ms. Quillen's door. Ned had sent her a quick message to alert her about the topic, along with his own cover story.
"Ms. Monroe? Please, come in. Would you like some water?"
Nancy smiled. "I'm fine, but thank you for the offer," she said. After she sat down, she crossed her legs and tugged her skirt hem down again.
Ms. Quillen settled behind her own desk and sighed, then smiled. "How have your first few weeks been?"
Nancy beamed. "Great," she replied. "No complaints."
Ms. Quillen nodded. "Good. Glad to hear it. This meeting is a kind of preventative measure. We received a tip regarding something that may have happened yesterday."
Nancy kept her expression open and eager, although she did feel a little flush rise in her cheeks.
"Mr. Nickerson."
The heat in her cheeks rose a few notches.
"You've met him."
Nancy nodded and smiled again. "He's very nice," she said.
Ms. Quillen smiled in response, but briefly. "Have you had many… conversations, with him?"
Thanks to Ned's alert, Nancy considered how far she wanted this to go. "I don't know how many would count as several, but… would it be okay if I said I had a crush on him? He's really cute," she gushed.
"He is," Ms. Quillen agreed, and Nancy successfully mastered herself before she glared at the other woman. "And a crush is one thing. But you aren't yet eighteen, and he's five years older. There's an issue of power dynamic between the two of you; you're a lower-level employee, and he might—I'm not saying he has, but he might—pressure you to take actions you might find uncomfortable, and he might offer favors or threaten retaliation…"
Ms. Quillen was watching Nancy closely, likely to see if she showed any sign of guilt or recognition. "If… we were to date, and he didn't pressure me?" she asked casually.
Ms. Quillen didn't quite sigh. "Of course I can't direct your behavior when you aren't here," she said. "But that's part of the issue. I've received a report that you and Mr. Nickerson were in the upstairs copy room for a… longer period than might have been expected, and I want to make sure that—I have a clear idea of what happened."
Nancy searched the other woman's eyes. "This is purely hypothetical," she replied. "Were I to tell you that he and I had sex, consensually… what would happen?"
Ms. Quillen sat back, eyes widening. "As he is a full employee of the company, Mr. Nickerson's behavior is governed by separate policies," she said. "There could be legal ramifications, because even if you agreed, that agreement might not be legal. Company policies state that fraternization with interns, especially those who are not of legal age, is to be avoided."
"But it's not forbidden."
"Again, we can't dictate behavior in your private lives, but when you're engaging in illicit behavior during the workday, that is governed by company policy. I do want to make sure you understand that any sort of quid pro quo arrangement, where you might be promised higher-profile work, moving into a higher-paid position, anything of that nature, in return for favors—that needs to be reported to my office immediately. It's to protect you as much as anything else."
Something in the tone of Ms. Quillen's voice told Nancy this wasn't the first time she'd had this conversation. "Does this happen a lot?"
Ms. Quillen took a deep breath and let it out. "Ms. Monroe," she said gently, "I would be happy to go over this with you in detail, but before we do that: can you tell me what happened with Mr. Nickerson yesterday?"
"We had sex; it was great," Nancy replied, and while she had just wanted to fast forward through this part of it, a small part of her was gratified by seeing Ms. Quillen's eyes widen. Clearly she had expected both of them to just lie about it. "I'm nineteen and he's my boyfriend. I tracked a higher-level employee here from a previous job, where he preyed upon another seventeen-year-old intern, but it's my understanding that you can't do anything about previous bad behavior."
Nancy's instincts proved correct; while Ms. Quillen couldn't do anything about the previous incident, knowing that Holland had engaged in that behavior in the past could heighten her attention on him, and help her influence how the interns were positioned in the various departments. They talked through the kinds of evidence that would be persuasive or damning, both from a legal perspective and from the HR standpoint within the company.
"Before I forget, though," Ms. Quillen said, as Nancy began to rise from her seat, "boyfriend or not, nineteen or not…"
"I know." Nancy smiled, blushing just a little. "I'll tell him we have to go out to his car for a quickie next time."
Ms. Quillen winced. "After hours and off the clock, you can definitely do what you want."
"And the same rules would apply. I'm spending a lot of time with the interns, and I just want them to be aware of where the line is, to head off anything like this."
"Same rules, yes. Any offers of advancement here, threats of what might happen if you don't grant favors, any intern should report to me."
Nancy's smile was quick and humorless. "It's just hard for them to see it that way, sometimes," she replied. "Nothing so cut and dried as all that."
"I know." Ms. Quillen's smile was equally brief. "I was your age once, too. I'm working on rooting out the bad actors here, and I hate to hear that another one snuck in. I appreciate your help—although I would have appreciated advance warning even more."
Nancy offered her hand. "If someone like you had been at the other place, it definitely wouldn't have gone as far as it did."
–-
Thanks to an invitation for drinks after work, Ned didn't make it back to his apartment until nearly ten o'clock. He keyed in, still buzzing with excitement, not sure whether Nancy had headed back to her father's place for the night.
Then he saw her purse on the table near his front door, and that buzz kicked up a notch as he loosened his tie and the first few buttons of his shirt.
"Yes. Oh, that's fantastic." Nancy was pacing in his bedroom; she had stripped down to a bra that was barely a whisper of fabric and the matching thong, and was holding her phone to her ear. Automatically Ned checked the blinds, and relaxed a little on seeing they were closed. He toed out of his shoes and reached for his fly, gazing rapturously at the shapely lines of her gorgeous legs, the already-hard pink tips of her nipples. She caught him ogling her and smirked, rolling her eyes. She had wiped off the makeup and was fresh-faced and gorgeous. He was always surprised again, seeing her made up for her cover identity in the mornings, how the subtle things she managed to do with her makeup made her look so young. It made every pass a guy made at her all the more egregious, in his opinion. In her cover role, she really did look seventeen, eager and wide-eyed and fresh and so young.
He had known her then. He had been awed by her, her determination and her fearlessness. She hadn't been ready for forever then, and he had only thought he was, because he hadn't quite known yet what they would become.
Her eyes were sparkling when she ended the call. "Okay. Mackenzie was helping him with something on his computer and noticed a folder in his email. We're gonna check that out tomorrow. I have a really good feeling about this."
"And knowing that you're wearing that," he nodded in her direction as he pushed his pants down, "at work is killing me."
She arched an eyebrow. "Would you prefer I just went without?"
He groaned. "Jesus, no. I'd have you bent over my desk by 8:03 and we'd be back in front of HR by 8:45."
Nancy smiled, watching him take off his shirt. "She was nice. She's gonna be really helpful."
"She thinks I'm a lying sack of shit who sweet-talked you into a quickie in the copy room."
"She probably did think so. I told her you're my boyfriend. Technically we're still not supposed to bang in the copy room." She pushed her thong down and reached behind her to unfasten her bra.
"Technically."
Nancy chuckled. "Officially, Mister Hot Hands," she said, coming over to push his underwear down. "Her very charming nickname for you. Apparently it's very distracting and unprofessional and…"
He swallowed hard when she dropped to her knees. "I don't care," he breathed. "God, we can't work within ten miles of each other…"
"We can work very well within ten miles of each other."
"Baby…" Ned groaned again at the feel of her tongue on his skin. "I… do you have to get home tonight?"
She pulled back a little, meeting his eyes, and shook her head.
"Then—" He reached down, and she laughed as he carried her to his bed, then hooked her knees over his shoulders. "We've already had the authorities called on us once today…"
"Why not make it two for two," she suggested with a delighted laugh, arching as he settled between her thighs.