Page 34 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

"I didn't know it was your birthday," I remind her.

"True. But you did hire me back just to spy on me."

"I hired you back because you were right."

"About?"

"Everything." I move closer, because apparently my self-preservation instinct takes coffee breaks. "The culture problems. The retention issues. The way we've been doing everything wrong while convincing ourselves it was right."

"Careful, Mr. Drake." Her voice drops lower. "That sounds dangerously close to admitting fault."

"Maybe I'm tired of being careful."

Another flash of lightning, another rumble of thunder. The storm's getting closer.

"Speaking of careful..." She takes a step back, bumping into what appears to be a shelf of meditation books. Several volumes of "Mindfulness for Middle Management" rain down on her head.

I catch her before she falls, and suddenly we're doing another romance film thing—one where time stops and breathing becomes optional.

Seconds later, she’s still in my arms, and neither of us seems capable of moving. I inch closer, the oxygen seizing inside my chest.

"This is a bad idea," she whispers.

"Probably."

"We're supposed to be discussing the feedback program."

"Definitely."

"And you still think I'm your anonymous critic."

"Most likely."

"And I still think you're everything wrong with tech leadership."

"Apparently."

"So this would be completely unprofessional."

"Utterly."

Her hands are somehow on my chest, probably from trying to catch herself. My hands are still on her waist, definitely not from trying to catch myself.

"Alex..."

The lights choose that exact moment to come back on.

And because the universe has a sense of humor, they reveal Brad from Accounting, standing in the now-open doorway with a box of tissues and Emma—my EA—right behind him with what appears to be crisis management paperwork.

"Oh." Brad clutches his tissues. "Is... is this a bad time? I was having feelings about cryptocurrency again."

Mac jumps back so fast she knocks over a Buddha statue. I barely catch it before it becomes a very un-zen casualty of corporate tension.

"Mr. Drake." Emma's voice could freeze hell. "The crisis management team is waiting on a conference call. Something about Keith from DevOps starting a proletarian uprising in the break room earlier today?”

"He did what?" Mac straightens her jacket, professional mask sliding back into place.

"Apparently the coffee machine is now the 'People's Percolator,'" Brad supplies. "He's demanding equal access to the premium beans and better working conditions for the intern who refills it."

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