Page 11 of Rival to the Billionaire

Well, that was a shit-show.

After Friday night's Save The Seagulls event and face-off with Ryder, I'd gotten prepared, doubling down on the paperwork to prove the risks of Ryder's new app.

By Monday morning's board meeting, I was ready. But so was Ryder.

I'd assumed I'd convince the board to make a good decision, given my close attention to Ryder's work.

I was wrong.

The board had decided to side with Ryder and his flashy new project, essentially dismissing my cold hard facts and concerns in favor of his billion-dollar fantasies.

The meeting had quickly devolved into a dick-measuring match between Ryder and me…which, of course, left me—a dick-less woman—with some shrill, painful flashbacks to my last encounter with Ryder, just days before.

Before he'd danced with me.

Before he'd maliciously flirted with me.

Before he'd rendered me damn-near speechless on the dance floor.

That doesn't seem to be the case now.

After the messy meeting, I receive a quick call from Derek's office to join him for a "chat". I assume he's finally seen the light and decided to back me.

But that hope is killed when I arrive in front of our CEO's office to find Ryder standing there. He glances up, his blue eyes narrowing on me as I approach.

"What are you doing here?" I demand.

Lips pressed together, his hard gaze flashes. "Well, Forde, it's like this…ya see, I do services for this company, and they pay me a paycheck to?—"

"No. Not here in the offices. I mean, here. In front of Derek's office."

"Gotcha. Well, I'm waiting for him. Because he called me into his office for a one-on-one meeting. Just like I'm assuming he called you."

I glance past Ryder, to Derek's office. Sure enough, there's Derek's secretary sitting at the front desk, watching us with feigned disinterest…but certainly watching Ryder more intently than she's watching me.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I hiss under my breath.

"You look stressed, Forde. Maybe you could go back to your office. Relax. Take a load off. Remove the stick from your sphincter. How’s that sound?”

“Please. The only thing up my ass…is you, Ryder. And I sure as hell am not letting you get to Derek and feed him the same bull one-on-one that you fed the board earlier. I’m not going anywhere."

"Really? So, you're telling me you're going to stand here, in the same hallway, while I talk to Derek? Doesn't seem very professional."

"No. Not at all. You're going to stand here in the hallway while I talk to Derek. Then, after I'm done, you can talk to him however long you'd like."

He scoffs slightly, his chin tilting in my direction. "Why, thank you. For your permission to talk to my own brother. Very kind of you. But here's the thing. You're the one who's going to walk out of here and come back some other time. I'm the one who's going to stay. So, I'll be the one who gets to chat with Derek. As long as I'd like. Says so right here,” he says, miming. “In the employee handbook. 'Shrews don't get to dictate the rules'."

"Haven't you heard of the phrase 'Ladies First'?"

"You're a lot of things, Forde, but a 'lady' is not one of them," he says, his eyes rake over my form for a second, but he quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "Still, if it's that important to you, then go ahead. Feel free to crash and burn in the privacy of Derek's office. I understand not wanting to have witnesses."

I open my mouth, ready to lay into him, but the sound of an opening door stops me.

Derek—my former, direct boss—emerges from the opaque door of his glass-encased office, his eyes moving from me to Ryder. He stands in front of us, watching our every move.

"Good. You're both here. I thought you might struggle making it…seeing as how you were cutting each other down to size," he says.

"Well, you see, Derek, I think we were just coming to the understanding that it's stupid for there to be a competition between me and Ryder for your time," I say.

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