Page 33 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

"He's organized them by theme," Mac points out, moving beside me. "Pink for compensation complaints, blue for management issues, yellow for... emotional support animal requests? Someone wants to bring their emotional support iguana to meetings."

"That would be Linda from Legal." I scan another note. "Though I'm more concerned about this one demanding 'revolution in the name of better snacks.'"

"At least they're being specific about their demands." Shereaches past me to adjust a crooked note, and I catch that hint of espresso and flowers again. "Unlike the board's vague concerns about 'maintaining traditional corporate structure.'"

And just like that, we're back to this morning's tension. To suspicions and accusations and the way she'd looked at me before she fled my office.

I open my mouth to... what? Accuse her again? Ask her directly about the blog? Admit that part of me admires her methods, even if she is trying to expose my company's flaws?

That's when the lights go out.

And because the universe sometimes likes to play with your balls when it royally screws you, that's also when the electronic lock clicks shut.

Fucking lovely.

"This is ridiculous." Mac jiggles the handle again, but the electronic lock remains stubbornly dark. The same lock that had snapped shut when the power went out five minutes ago. "Who puts an electronic lock on a meditation room?"

"The same people who thought mandatory meditation was a good idea?" I offer, trying not to focus on how small the room feels in the dark.

Or how close she's standing. Or how she smells like espresso and something floral that makes my groin tighten inside my slacks.

"Can't you override it or something? You own the building."

"Technically, the building owns itself. It's a tax thing." I pull out my phone, its glow casting weird shadows on the meditation cushions. "No signal. The backup generators should kick in soon."

"Great." She slumps against the wall. "Trapped in Brad's Crying Corner during a blackout. This is definitely not how I planned to spend my evening."

Neither did I.

We'd been in the middle of a heated discussion about theemployee feedback program when the lights went out. Mac had been gesturing passionately about toxicity metrics, I'd been trying not to notice how the sunset made her hair look like fire, and then... darkness.

Now we're stuck in what is arguably the most emotionally charged twelve square feet in Seattle's tech district.

"Look on the bright side," I say, using my phone's flashlight to examine the room. "At least we have... thirty meditation cushions and a wellness journal for entertainment."

Mac grabs the journal, flipping it open. "Oh my god. Listen to this: 'Dear Wellness Journal, today I learned that you can't actually trade NFTs for real money. In unrelated news, does anyone know a good bankruptcy lawyer?'"

"That's definitely Brad."

"Here's another one: 'I've named the plant in the corner Gerald because it looks judgmental and refuses to grow.'" She squints at the page. "That's... surprisingly accurate, actually."

A distant rumble of thunder makes us both jump.

“God almighty.” Mac peers out the small window. “Just what this situation needs—atmospheric effects."

I try not to think about how this feels like the setup to every romance film ever made. Two people trapped together during a storm, forced to confront their...

Nah. Not opening that Pandora’s Box of pure fuckery.

"Your sister's probably wondering where you are," I say, mostly to distract myself from how the room seems to be getting smaller.

"Oh god." Mac checks her dead phone. "She's probably already called Nonna. I should warn you – if I don't check in soon, there's a high probability of an Italian rescue mission involving industrial quantities of pasta."

"Is that what happened to the last CEO who crossed you?"

"No, he just got a courtesy curse-out. The pasta punishment is reserved for family emergencies." She pauses. "Althoughtechnically, you did fire me on my birthday, so maybe you qualify for both."

Lightning flashes outside, illuminating her face for a moment. She's closer than I realized, close enough that I can the blush on her delicate cheekbones.

---