Page 15 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

"You mean the meditation cushions visible through our entirely glass walls?" Her tone could dry ice. "What incredible corporate espionage."

I hide my amusement behind my coffee cup.

The blogger's becoming a problem, but watching Ms. Gallo verbally eviscerate my board almost makes up for it.

"The point," I say, redirecting, "is that Ms. Gallo's methods are working. The board's concerns about her appointment have been addressed. Unless anyone has actual data to counter her results?"

Silence. The kind that costs millions to create.

"Then I believe we're done here." I stand, buttoning my jacket. "Ms. Gallo, my office. We need to discuss the next phase."

She follows me out, heels clicking against marble. The sound reminds me of a timer counting down, though to what, I'm not sure.

"They're afraid of me," she says once we're in my office.

"They should be." I pour two coffees, sliding one across my desk to her. "You're dismantling their entire worldview about corporate culture."

"And you're not afraid?"

"Ms. Gallo," I meet her eyes over my cup, "I didn't build this company by playing it safe. The board thinks protecting Drake Enterprises means keeping things the same. I know better."

"Do you?" She takes the coffee but doesn't drink. "Because that anonymous blogger isn't wrong about tech company facades."

"No," I agree, watching her. "They're not. Which makes me wonder how they get their information."

Something flickers in her expression. Gone before I can read it.

"Maybe they're just paying attention." She sets the coffee down, untouched. "Now, about that next phase?"

I let her change the subject. For now. Because she's right - I didn't get here by playing it safe.

I got here by knowing when to wait.

"The next phase," I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking, "involves our holiday party planning committee."

Her eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. “You're joking."

"The annual Drake Enterprises Christmas Gala is our biggest cultural event." I enjoy the way her eyes narrow at my phrasing. "Five thousand employees, plus Seattle's entire tech leadership."

"And you want me involved because..."

"Because last year's event had all the warmth of a cryptocurrency crash." I stand, moving to the window. The Seattle rain's turned to early snow - October's way of reminding us winter's coming. "I want something different."

"Different." She tests the word. "Like your Davidson contract different, or your mandatory meditation different?"

"Like someone who turned a champagne disaster into a watershed moment different."

She stands too, reflection ghosting against the glass beside mine. "You're playing a longer game here, Mr. Drake. Care to share what it is?"

I turn to face her. In heels, she's tall enough that I don't have to look down much to meet her eyes. "Would you believe me if I did?"

"No." Her honesty surprises a laugh from me. "But I'd appreciate the effort."

"The tech industry's changing, Ms. Gallo. The old ways - the ones Gerald and Barbara cling to - they're dying. Companies that don't adapt-"

"End up as cautionary tales on tech blogs?"

"Something like that." I study her face, searching for... something. "The question is: are you here to help us adapt, or to document our failure?"

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