Well, my fellow corporate drones, it's another less-than-exciting investor meeting with the executives (Loud Talker, Human Buzzword, Master Delegator). And at the front, CEO Nick Hart, the world's coldest-and ok, unbelievably sexy-tech badass. The man hasn't smiled in the history of ever, he runs a tight ship filled with miserable employees, and gosh, he just really does not love feedback. Especially from me.
Development updates, acquisition delays, and . . . holy hell, why does he keep looking at me? I don't work for him. I work for his brother. Which is good, because otherwise I'd spend every meeting secretly wondering what actually lies beneath that cool, aloof demeanor. Like, is he an uptight geek in the boardroom . . . and a sexy-assed freak in the bedroom?
He'd better not find out I'm the one stuffing the company suggestion box. What's so wrong with a Valentine's Day Social, anyway? But the fact that my notes are less professional and more entertainment is one seriously dangerous game. Because if he ever found out what I really thought of him, there'd be all kinds of sweet, delicious hell to pay . . .
