Page 88 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

Totally fine.

"More champagne?"Lucia offers.

"God, yes."

Two hours and several glasses of champagne later, I'm watching Keith teach Seattle's tech elite the "Binary Bunny Hop" while trying to remember why I'm suddenly anxious about something.

"The revolutionary choir's next number is called 'Deck the Halls with Living Wages,'" Lucia updates, appearing with more champagne. "Also, Alex still hasn't returned from his office. Want me to send a search party?"

Alex.

Office.

Login.

Oh no.

OH NO.

"The exposé," I whisper in horror. "It's in my workspace. In the hidden folder marked 'Personal Projects.'"

"The what in the where now?"

"The exposé!" I grab her arm, nearly spilling both our drinks. "The one about tech industry corruption! The one that would destroy everything! It's in my workspace and I just gave Alex the password!"

"The same workspace he's been accessing for the past two hours?"

"Oh god." I scan the ballroom, but Alex is nowhere in sight. "I have to?—"

"Ms. Gallo?" Brad appears, clutching his wellness journal. "Keith wants to know if you'll join the revolutionary conga line? He says it's a metaphor for breaking corporate chains through synchronized movement."

"Not now, Brad!"

I push through the crowd, hearing snippets of conversation that definitely include the words "Drake Enterprises" and "transformation" and "revolutionary holiday spirit."

The hallway outside feels colder, emptier.

Snow falls harder against the windows, transforming Seattle into something out of a holiday movie. Except instead of romantic reconciliation, I'm about to star in "How to Lose a CEO in Ten Seconds."

I find him on the terrace, snow collecting on his shoulders as he stares at his phone. The screen glows with familiar words - my words. The exposé that could destroy everything we've built.

"Alex."

He doesn't turn. "Interesting reading material, Ms. Gallo. Though I have to admit, the title needs work. 'Tech Industry Corruption: The Truth Behind the Glass Walls'? Bit obvious, don't you think?"

"I can explain?—"

"Can you?" Now he does turn, and the look in his now ice-cold eyes makes me wish he hadn't. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like I just got played by the best in the business. Congratulations, by the way. The whole 'fall for your target' angle? Brilliant strategy."

"That's not?—"

"What happened?" His laugh holds no humor. "Because this—" he gestures at his phone "—is dated three months ago. Right around when you started 'falling' for me. Tell me, was the champagne incident planned too? Or just convenient timing?"

"Alex, please?—"

"You know what's funny?" Snow collects in his hair, on his shoulders, making him look like something out of a fairy tale. Except this isn't the kind with happy endings. "I actually convinced myself you were different. That maybe love and success could coexist. That maybe my father was wrong about keeping barriers between business and pleasure."

"I didn't publish it."

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