Page 10 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

A few days ago, I was being escorted out by security. Today I have an office next to the CEO.

A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. "Settling in?"

Speak of the devil. And by devil, I mean Alexander Drake, leaning against my doorframe with the kind of casual confidence that comes from twenty years of running board rooms.

His suit is perfectly pressed, dark gray today, and I refuse to notice how well it fits across his shoulders.

Just like I refuse to notice the way his green eyes catch the morning light or how the silver at his temples somehow makes him more attractive.

A shame.

Alexander Drake looks like he stepped off a mens wear fashion runaway and right into an office. In his mid-forties, he has the rugged handsomeness that only comes with age. Eyes that have seen things. A face lightly lined with the wisdom that comes with having a story to tell.

But nope. Today, I’m not noticing any of that. No way.

Because I'm a professional.

A professional who's planning to expose his company's toxic culture. A professional who's been around the corporateblock enough times to know that men who look like that - successful, polished, just the right amount of sophistication - are usually the most dangerous kind.

Been there. Divorced that. Moving on.

"The office meets your standards, I hope?" he asks, and I catch the hint of amusement in his voice. He's enjoying this, the smug bastard.

"It's very... Drake Enterprises." I gesture to the meditation cushion. "Nothing says 'we care about wellness' quite like mandatory meditation in a fishbowl."

"The glass walls were here before me," he admits, stepping into the office. "Though I'm told they promote transparency."

"They promote migraines. But hey, at least everyone can watch me have my emotional breakdown during quarterly reviews."

That gets a laugh from him, surprisingly genuine, and I add another note to my mental file: Alexander Drake has dimples when he really smiles. This is both useful information for my blog and incredibly inconvenient for my sanity.

"The executive meeting starts in ten," he says, checking his watch - vintage Omega, because of course it is. "Fair warning: the board isn't exactly thrilled about your... unique hiring situation."

"You mean they're not excited about the woman who turned their CEO into a champagne fountain? I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell you."

"They'll come around." He straightens.” Especially once they see your retention numbers in action."

Wait. What?

But he's already turning to leave. "Ten minutes, Ms. Gallo. Try not to bring any beverages to this meeting."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I call after him. "I only waste the expensive stuff on special occasions!"

I wait until his footsteps fade before pulling up my blogdraft. Something about that interaction wasn't quite right. He'd mentioned my retention numbers - the same ones I'd thrown in his face last night. Had he already known about them? Had he researched me before the takeover?

I start typing:

"BREAKING TECH TEA: When is a hostile takeover not just a takeover? When the CEO's playing chess while his board's playing checkers. Stay tuned, tech fam. @MizzByteMyAlgos is about to spill more than just champagne. #TechWorld #CorporateDrama"

I hit post and grab my tablet for the meeting. Time to see what other secrets Drake Enterprises is hiding behind all this transparent glass.

Like Alex, I believe in showing up to battle prepared. Which is why I've swapped my laptop for a tablet - harder to tell I'm actually documenting every red flag I spot rather than taking dutiful notes about corporate synergy or whatever buzzword bingo we're playing today.

The main boardroom is exactly what you'd expect from a company that probably has "disrupt" in its mission statement: All glass (shocking), with views of Seattle's skyline that definitely cost more than my first mortgage.

Around the massive table sit various VPs and directors, all trying very hard to look like they're not staring at me.

I choose a seat directly across from Alex, because if they're going to watch me anyway, I might as well give them a show.

---