Page 59 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

"Alex—"

"The question is," he moves closer, "why didn't you just tell me?"

"Tell you what?" My back hits the counter. "That I run a blog critical of tech culture? That I've been exposing industry problems while working to fix them? That I?—"

He kisses me.

Not like at the lodge, all pent-up tension and whiskey-flavored possibilities. This is softer, sweeter, but somehow more dangerous.

"That you're making a difference," he murmurs against my lips. "That you're actually changing things instead of just criticizing them. That you're?—"

The break room door bursts open.

"The revolution demands—" Keith stops short. "Oh. Interesting strategic meeting location, comrades. The revolution notes that the break room's glass walls make it surprisingly unsuitable for... private corporate discussions."

"Keith." Alex straightens his tie with deliberate casualness. "Did you need something?"

"Just monitoring potential counter-revolutionary activities." Keith's eyes narrow. "Though the revolution is intrigued by these unscheduled leadership consultations..."

"Out," I manage, my voice remarkably steady considering how my heart's racing.

Keith retreats, but I hear him muttering about "suspicious patterns of management behavior" and "bourgeois meeting protocols."

"We should probably..." I nod at the door.

"Probably." Alex steps back, professional mask sliding intoplace though his eyes still burn. "My office by end of day? We have some... initiatives to discuss."

The way he says "initiatives" makes my pulse jump. "I have back-to-back meetings until six."

"I'll wait."

I blink. "How did you?—"

"Your first blog post about Drake Enterprises. 'Glass walls don't create transparency, they just give employees new ways to feel exposed.' It was clever. Like all your posts."

"You knew? This whole time?"

"I suspected. Then I started liking the hell out of you, and it didn't matter anymore."

Oh.

Ohhhh.

"Alex—"

“See you later.” He turns and walks off.

As for me, I work hard to make a cup of coffee without my hands shaking. The second I do, I head back towards my back-to-back meetings, pretending I can focus on anything that’s being discussed.

It's 6:45 PM when I finally make it to his office. The Seattle winter night presses against the windows, city lights twinkling through a fresh dusting of snow. Most of the office is empty, though I can hear Keith's revolutionary choir practicing what sounds suspiciously like "Les Misérables" in the distance.

Alex is at his desk, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up, looking like every corporate fantasy I've ever denied having. He doesn't look up when I enter, just says quietly, "Close the door."

I do, my heart thundering against my ribs.

"You're late." He still doesn't look up from whatever he's reading.

"Budget meetings ran long. Apparently, Keith's request for revolutionary office supplies needed extensive review."

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