Page 57 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

I lean in, my lips brushing against a dark curl that’s escaped her neatly-made bun.

"You know what’s even more right, Ms. Gallo? How amazing you taste,” I murmur, enjoying how she shivers slightly. “Next time, I plan on tasting you more properly.”

Her skin turns the color of pastel cotton candy. And for a moment, I think she'll argue. Instead, she rises on tiptoe and presses one more kiss to my lips, swift and soft and full of promise.

"Goodnight, Ms. Gallo," I whisper, stepping back.

Mackenzie smiles, her dark lashes sweeping slowly towards the sky. "Goodnight, Mr. Drake."

I wait until her door closes before heading downstairs to deal with whatever revolution Keith's staging now.

My phone buzzes, probably with a text or email about whatever CEO duty I’m failing to fulfill right now.

I ignore it, touching my fingers to my lips where I can still taste Mackenzie Gallo and whiskey and the anticipation of tomorrow still on my tongue.

17

LATE NIGHT CONFESSIONS

MACKENZIE

The Monday after the Winter Strategy Summit dawns cold and clear in Seattle, the kind of crisp December morning that makes the city look like it belongs on a holiday card. The kind of morning that should feel fresh and full of possibility.

Instead, I'm staring at my blog dashboard at 7 AM, cursor hovering over the "New Post" button, trying to ignore how my lips still tingle every time I remember Alex's kiss.

Three days have passed since that moment in the lodge hallway. Three days of avoiding his calls while fielding increasingly pointed texts from my sisters about why I fled the summit early, claiming a family emergency.

"You're OCD-organizing your icons again," Lucia announces from my office doorway. "Also, Nonna wants to know why you missed Sunday dinner. She's threatening to show up here with 'emergency cannoli.'"

"I'm fine." I close the blog window quickly. "Just... processing the summit outcomes."

"You mean processing making out with your CEO?" She drops into a visitor chair. "Which, by the way, the entire techindustry knows about thanks to Keith live-tweeting the whole weekend. Including, and I quote, 'The revolution witnesses forbidden love in the hallowed halls of corporate oppression! Also, does anyone know how to remove tinsel from climbing gear?'"

"It wasn't..." I start, then stop because technically it was exactly what it looked like. Right up until I panicked about my blog identity and ran away like Cinderella with a journalism degree.

"Wasn't what?" Lucia leans forward. "A mind-blowing kiss with a billionaire who's been secretly mentoring female developers and actually implementing your suggested changes? Because according to Keith's tweet thread?—"

"Don't you have actual work to do?"

"This is my work. Executive assistant, remember? Assisting you with your executive crisis."

"I don't have a crisis."

"Really? Then why is your blog dashboard open with a half-written post about 'the complexities of corporate reform' that has zero criticism of Drake Enterprises?"

Before I can respond, a commotion erupts in the hallway. Through the glass walls, we watch Keith march past with what appears to be the entire DevOps team, all wearing "Viva La Coffee Revolution" t-shirts.

"The biometric scanner is down!" he announces triumphantly. "The people's beans are free!"

"The scanner's down because Facilities is updating the software," Emma calls after them, tablet in hand. "As per the maintenance schedule you helped create!"

"A likely story from the corporate—" Keith stops short, spotting me through the glass. His eyes go wide. "Comrade Gallo! We missed you at the summit's closing ceremonies! Though the revolution understands that matters of the heart?—"

"Keith." I summon every ounce of my Nonna's commandingpresence. "What did we say about discussing personal matters in professional settings?"

"That it undermines the structural integrity of corporate hierarchy and perpetuates systems of—" He catches my expression. "Right. Coffee revolution now, romance commentary later."

He scurries off, revolutionary t-shirt army in tow.

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