Part 1
The conference room hummed with the low murmur of voices as Hudson Gateway’s highest level executives settled into their seats. Damien took his place at the head of the table, his expression composed and attentive. Around him sat his CFO, CLO, and presidents of various departments, the air thick with anticipation as each prepared to discuss their respective departments’ role in the company’s new project. Charlie sat at the far end of the table, his expression already soured as if he had a bone to pick.
“Everyone ready to get started?” Damien asked, authoritative but welcoming. “It’s been a long while since I’ve met with some of you, so thanks for being on time, I know everybody is just itching for this 9am meeting on the most exhilarating of topics—grid infrastructure.”
There was a roll of chuckles from everyone but Charlie, who merely gave Damien a tight-lipped smile and a pointed look.
“I know not all of you are up to speed yet beyond an incredibly vague memo that got passed around a few weeks ago. Let’s start with that. We’re finally moving forward on the significant infrastructure project we’ve talked about for years. We are looking at a multi-year initiative to modernize and enhance the grid in New England—New York, Mass, Connecticut, and Vermont. It’ll finally be better equipped to support the load of solar and wind we produce. Moving power lines underground, rebuilding transmission lines, upgrading and reconfiguring substations, and the like.”
“I came up with some potential names for the project,” Charlie said, cutting in immediately when Damien took a pause. “Giving it a name helps with PR and public perception of the project, since we all know this is going to be a massive inconvenience to many.”
Damien, while displeased with the interruption, looked down the table at his President of Marketing. “I agree. What names are you proposing?”
“For your consideration, Northeast Grid Renewal Initiative, or NEGRI. Option two is Northeastern Utility Modernization Project,” Charlie continued.
“NUMP?” Damien confirmed, raising an eyebrow. “I’m vetoing that one right out of the gate. That’s terrible.”
“Continuing on,” Charlie glared, “Northeast Electrical Network Improvement.”
“NENI,” Damien contemplated. “Not bad.”
“And finally, my personal pick. Grid Renewal and Infrastructure Development, or GRID.”
“Talk about burying the lede, Charlie,” Damien laughed. “I don’t even have to poll to know that GRID is the unanimous choice. Succinct, relevant, catchy, and easy to remember.”
“Like I said,” Charlie scowled, “my pick.”
“Oh, come on, Charlie,” Damien jeered, unclear as to why his marketing president was so bitter, “with GRID, you’ll soon have the infrastructure to lighten up.”
Charlie’s frown further carved itself into his face, exaggerating his frown lines. As the other executives tittered in amusement, given Charlie’s bitter expression, Damien knew that they were laughing at Charlie and not with him. “Hardy har har,” Charlie’s expression said to him.
“But in the spirit of officiality, I’ll make a motion to adopt GRID as the project name.”
“Seconded,” said Josh, the President of Sales.
“All in favor?” Damien inquired, straightening the thick binder of papers in front of him.
There was a chorus of “ayes.”
Damien scribbled notes in a notebook as he asked, “Did you talk to domestic PR yet? It’s certainly going to be relevant as we begin the nascent stage of utility work in October, ideally.”
“I did not speak to your Anne about this, no.”
Damien’s pen froze at the mention of her name and at the peculiar way Charlie said it. He took a moment before continuing on writing, making sure not to look up at Charlie. But he could feel the other executives’ eyes on him. “I didn’t say anything about Anne. I asked about PR. But if you wish to loop Anne in as you speak to PR, then by all means, do that. I believe that does fall under her purview, no? She should be involved if that’s the case.”
Damien looked up then, right into Charlie’s cold gaze. He wondered what the other executives were thinking at that moment, watching as the President of Marketing and the Chief Executive Offer had a pointed conversation of thinly-veiled subtexts. A prickle of discomfort crept up his spine. Ignoring it, Damien gestured to his CFO to quickly address the next topic.
“Okay, moving on to the next item. Tom?”
The CFO nodded, adjusting his glasses before launching into the budgetary details of the project. “As of now, the projected and initial budget for ‘GRID’ stands at $3.5 billion over the next five years. However, recent assessments indicate likely cost overruns due to unforeseen challenges in the upgrades and material shortages.”
There was a murmur of concern, and Damien furrowed his brow, taking note of the implications for the company’s financial stability as Tom went on.
“Thanks for the update,” Damien said, his voice measured. “Let’s keep an eye on it as we move forward, and ensure we have contingency plans in place to address potential budget fluctuations. While it’s not my favorite suggestion, I would identify regions that have minimal customers and we can cut them out as needed if we begin to go vastly over budget—push back their upgrade a little more. I will also defer to you to evaluate any other potential solutions, should the need arise. Dan, how are we navigating the legal aspects here as we approach the start date?”
The CLO cleared his throat before addressing the table. “We’ve encountered several legal hurdles, particularly regarding right-of-way acquisitions and environmental regulations.”
“Environmental regulations?” Damien said in mock incredulity, arrogance coating every word. “Do they remember who we are and what we do?”
A few of the executives chuckled.
“There’s also been quite a bit of pushback from local municipalities and businesses who have been made aware of how much and how long some of the upgrades may take. We’re working diligently to mitigate risks and expedite permits, but we anticipate delays in certain regions.”
Damien nodded, his expression thoughtful as he jotted more notes. “That said, it's generally expected.”
Brian, the President of Engineering and R&D leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table. “On our end, overall the engineering teams have made significant strides in the design phase. However, we too have run into logistical challenges, specifically in coordinating with local municipalities and managing construction timelines. That has slowed our progress. We’re exploring strategies to streamline operations and accelerate implementation. Hopefully this will be sorted out within the next few weeks.”
As the discussion continued, Charlie remained conspicuously silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. But his body language spoke volumes—arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes narrowed in skepticism, and leaning back in his chair in a way that seemed smug. Damien quickly picked up Charlie’s standoffish behavior as more than just a bad mood, an undercurrent of tension permeating the room whenever their eyes met.
The meeting progressed, Damien steering the discussion through each department’s updates and challenges in more depth. Charlie’s demeanor grew increasingly hostile as the meeting wore on, his discontent obvious even in the midst of the professional discourse.
When the conversation turned to GRID’s timeline and milestone objectives, Damien and Brian were discussing and outlining in detail the proposed schedule, emphasizing the need for collaboration and efficient execution. Yet, Charlie began to interject with pointed skepticism, questioning the feasibility of the timeline and expressing doubts about the project’s overall success.
“Are we certain that we can meet these deadlines, Damien? Given the current challenges we’re facing, and the ones already raised, it seems overly optimistic to expect everything to proceed on time.”
Damien maintained his composure, addressing Charlie’s “concerns” with a calm demeanor. “Where was your attention earlier when we went over that? While there are undoubtedly and inevitable obstacles to overcome, as we’ve already talked about, I have full confidence in the capabilities of all teams involved to adapt. We’ve carefully assessed the risks and have contingency plans in place to address unforeseen issues. R&D, and the understated heroes of it all, the linemen, utility workers, and certainly their foremen are the best. We went over this already.”
But Charlie persisted, his line of questioning bordering on insubordination as he continued to cast doubt on the project's feasibility. Damien felt his patience wearing thin, he decided he’d had enough. “Charlie, let the adults talk about the minutiae of the construction timeline. Marketing’s input is not needed at this time.”
Charlie’s expression darkened, his fury burning in his eyes like coals as he sat at his end of the table. Damien couldn’t fathom the source of Charlie’s inexplicable hostility, but it was increasingly evident that his animosity was escalating, and it was unnerving. Damien was having flashbacks to his obnoxious outburst at the board meeting.
The adjournment of the executive meeting did nothing to dispel the lingering tension, one that hung above Damien and Charlie like a dark stormcloud threatening to burst. Damien could feel Charlie’s simmering resentment as they both rose from their seats, preparing to leave the conference room. As the other executives filed out, Damien caught Charlie’s eye.
Damien grabbed Charlie by the shoulder, and said just loud enough that only Charlie could hear him, “You and I need to have a chat.”
Once they were alone in the now-vacant conference room, Damien wasted no time addressing the elephant in the room. He leaned against the long table, summer sun beating against his back, hot and suffocating. “Charlie, once again I find myself in a discussion about your behavior. This is an executive suite, not a pre-school. I shouldn’t have to do this repeatedly,” Damien began, his tone stony.
Charlie defiantly crossed his arms. “What behavior? I was simply expressing legitimate concerns about the feasibility of the project. It’s my job to ensure that everything runs smoothly.”
Damien resisted the urge to roll his eyes, crossing his own arms over his chest, refusing to let Charlie’s antagonism get under his skin. “Your job is to ensure everything runs smoothly in marketing. But your so-called concerns crossed the line, Charlie. Questioning the validity of the project’s timeline in front of the rest of the executive team undermines my authority and generates unnecessary doubt.”
Charlie scoffed, his disdain becoming increasingly evident. “Authority? Please, Damien. Let’s not pretend that you have any real authority over any of this, certainly not marketing. I’ll handle that as I see fit. And all the others at this table are the ones doing the real work. You’re just a figurehead whose job it is to sit there and look pretty, which is really all you’re good for, with zero idea of what the day-to-day is like for everyone else who actually makes this place run.”
Charlie was being absolutely outlandish. Damien was losing his patience, and while he continued to maintain his composure outwardly, Damien’s words held an entirely different attitude.
“Careful, Charlie. Your narcissism is showing, especially since you claim to have authority over marketing and yet, all I see is you doing everything in your power to stifle any creativity that comes out of your own fucking department. Meanwhile, this project affects the entire company. Not just marketing, where, if we’re being realistic, has the smallest stake in the project. I have a responsibility to ensure the project’s success, and that includes holding everyone accountable for their actions. Including you and whatever insubordinate childish bullshit this is.”
Charlie’s eyes flashed with anger, contempt filling his voice. “What about Anne, Damien?”
“What about her?”
“For someone who claims to be brilliant, you’re shockingly obtuse. She is marketing, and I certainly didn’t authorize Anne to waste her time on an unnecessary project that she has no business being involved in. Unacceptable. You’ve overstepped your bounds.”
Damien’s frustration bubbled to the surface, and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks in a vain attempt to project a sense of being nonplussed. “We’re working together to ensure the success of a rebrand, something that I was open to hearing and the necessity I was convinced of. It’s called being proactive and being able to collaborate, Charlie. Two things I actively encourage and reward in this company I built,” Damien continued, self-command beginning to slip. “My mistake, the word ‘collaborate’ might be too big for you. It’s called teamwork—something you might wish to try instead of constantly trying to undermine everyone around you.”
Other employees passing by could see the two men through the glass walls, their voices rising with each accusation hurled.
“Teamwork? More like abuse of power. You’re using your position to exert influence where it doesn’t belong.”
“I thought I didn’t have any ‘real power,’ according to you,” Damien remonstrated sarcastically.
“Leave the marketing to marketing, Damien, because you don’t know shit about what we do. Stick to your own department.”
Damien bristled, struggling to keep his temper in check. “I’m the CEO, Charlie. It is my responsibility to ensure the success of this company. If that means getting involved in other departments’ affairs, because they are all my departments, then so be it. So you’d do well to focus on your own responsibilities instead of trying to meddle in the affairs of others,” Damien fumed. “Including and especially mine.”
Charlie’s lip curled into a sneer. “Meddling?” he exclaimed in a sardonic laugh, “I just find it suspicious that you’ve suddenly taken an interest in someone you have zero business being around. It’s not exactly appropriate for a CEO to be so intimately involved with a member of his company, especially someone as junior as one Anne Neuman. And you seem to be spending an awful lot of time with her lately, Damien. One has to wonder what exactly is going on behind closed doors.”
Damien’s brows furrowed in disbelief and his jaw tightened at Charlie's pointed insinuations. “What Anne and I do is none of your goddamn business.”
Charlie remained unfazed, his gaze cold and calculating. His hostility escalated with each passing moment, refusing to back down. “Let’s take a look-see at your little pet project. At bare minimum, your constant conferencing with her on a completely unnecessary collaboration reeks of blatant favoritism. It’s unprofessional and inappropriate. There’s no reason for the two of you to be working together on a rebrand, let alone flying away to fuck around and do a keynote presentation together. I didn’t authorize any of this, Damien. The arrogant overreach here is astounding. You’re inserting yourself into marketing projects, among other places, that you have no business being in.”
“Enough, Charlie,” Damien snapped, his voice razor sharp. “I won’t stand idly by and listen to you besmirch Anne’s reputation and throw baseless and cavil accusations around.”
“Are they baseless?” Charlie said, his tone suddenly very quiet and icy, his eyes ablaze with righteous indignation. “I’ve seen the way you two interact—that photo from the fashion show comes to mind, and your little meetings together where nobody knows what goes on. It’s unprofessional, to say the least. And it’s beginning to raise some eyebrows.”
“Don’t worry about the ethics until you do something unethical.”
Damien remembered the photo from San Francisco—his hands on her body, actively paying attention to where he’d placed them. He’d just wanted to feel her presence, not make her uncomfortable. Had he made her uncomfortable?
You’re wrong about the order of operations for that one, Erik.
Damien met Charlie’s gaze with steely determination, just barely quelling the panic rising up his throat. “You are grasping at straws, Charlie. And it’s pathetic. What is your problem? Are you jealous of her initiative? You best be careful. I won’t let your fear of bureaucratic impotence and creative jealousy sabotage any current or future projects, or run good employees out of this company. If you have a problem with me, address it directly instead of hiding behind a tirade of petty grievances and barrage of unfounded accusations.”
Damien felt the pulse of a vein in his neck, and Charlie was red in the face with rage.
“Now get the fuck out of my sight, Charlie. You’re out of line.”
Damien turned on his heel and went to exit the conference room, leaving Charlie seething with resentment and frustration.
“That’s right, Damien. Walk away. Go tell your girlfriend how you defended her honor.”
A few feet from the door, Damien stopped dead in his tracks and swiveled, his countenance instantly shifting from a simmering and fervent anger to one of glacial composure.
“On second thought, Charlie,” he uttered, sliding his hands casually in his pockets, and his tone chillingly detached and devoid of emotion, “consider yourself terminated.”
Then Damien turned his back on the stunned and steaming former President of Marketing, striding out of the conference room with an air of unassailable confidence, his demeanor radiating control. Underneath Damien’s anger, there was a blooming fear that Charlie’s insinuations had reached outside ears. On the way to his office, he caught Cathy’s eye. The look they exchanged told him the accusations had seeped into the corridor with the same delicacy of the elevator doors in The Shining. He gave a single, irritated shake of his head in her direction. Unease churning within him, the last thing he wanted to hear from her was, “I told you so.”
The weekend settled in, and as late Saturday night faded into the first hours of Sunday morning, Damien found himself grappling with the aftermath of Charlie’s firing. Outside, the crickets chirped and the dew had settled into the grass, but inside in his home office, Damien scrolled through the messages contemplating his next move. He needed to act swiftly to fill Charlie’s position, but he also knew that he couldn’t rush such an important decision. The wrong choice could have serious repercussions for the company. The whole fiasco could. And while the idea would have been tempting under any other circumstances, no doubt she had the know-how and skill to do so, promoting Anne would only serve as fuel to Charlie’s rumors. It would be integral that she keep her current job, and so she would operate only as an interim director—getting the boost in pay for her time and extra labor in that role—until the new President could be brought in and brought up to speed.
He needed time to figure out when to tell her, and how to tell her of the new role she’d just temporarily inherited.
He needed to focus on finding the right candidate, someone who could lead the marketing team with vision and creativity, allow for collaboration and vision, and still navigate the delicate balance of corporate politics. He turned his attention to scheduling a meeting with the board to discuss the implications of firing Charlie. It wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but it was necessary.
Damien took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. He tried to clear his mind of the ruminating thoughts swirling around him. Disquiet nagged him from the pit of his stomach. The accusations Charlie had hurled at him still rang in his ears, bouncing like echoes off the walls of his mind.
By now, Damien obviously knew that there was more than a nugget of truth to Charlie’s words. There was no point in denying the growing closeness he felt with Anne, both professionally and personally. And it did him no good to refute the fact that his feelings were no longer in an inchoate stage, and were now full-fledged sexual and emotional beings occupying him. The complications had escalated now that Charlie’s accusations had cast a shadow over their interactions, and that’s how Damien knew that it was as far from over as it could come. But while he knew he should address the situation head-on, he also knew it would add fuel to the fire. Damien was also certain that despite his attraction, he had enough clarity to know that his feelings were not clouding his judgment on her skill, passion, drive, or any other professional aspect of her. Damien believed himself capable of compartmentalizing his own desires and Anne’s own professional abilities. That was where Charlie’s accusations fell flat—it was her capabilities, not favoritism. After all, he’d only had the one conversation with her when he decided to hear her out on the rebrand. With that truth in the timeline alone, acknowledging the rumors now could further risk the reputation of the company.
The stress of the week had left him with an excruciating headache that radiated out to his bad eye. His CEO status sucked sometimes, and it was a complaint had to suffer in silence. He decided that he wasn’t going to get anything more done, so he, much like he wanted to do himself, put his computer to sleep and dragged himself up the stairs. Taking an aspirin, he flopped himself onto the bed, a California king which he desperately wanted Anne to help him fill. He rolled onto his side, closing his eyes to sleep.
But sleep didn’t come. He replayed his altercation with Charlie again and again, the accusations swirling like eddies in the space between his ears. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, the central air spilling into the bedroom with the faintest whoosh. His fingers traced the contours of a little matchbox car that sat at his bedside, spinning the wheels with this thumb like they were turning in time with mind. Every so often, he would hear the low drone of a plane in final descent, the wail of a siren, or the lonely call of a distant train. None of it lulled him to sleep. His mind just gave him this violent volley of thoughts, eventually turning into a toggle between Charlie’s words and flashes of fantasies where the sleeplessness was intentional.
For every “the arrogant overreach here is astounding,” there was a louder vision of him against her, sliding his hands between Anne’s legs from behind, whispering filthy plans of action in her ear. Each flash of “are they baseless?” triggered a more powerful vision of her with his cock in her mouth, licking him like he was cookie batter on a spatula, eyes glittering like gemstones and begging for more of him. Every time he replayed “consider yourself terminated” or Charlie’s vile “among other places,” he imagined himself buried to the hilt in the heat of her body, moans of pleasure with each of his thrusts. “Come for me,” he fantasized growling in her ear, his fingers laced with hers as she did just as she was ordered. For every “I’ve seen the way you two interact,” he was met with the image of laughing with her about the most trivial, ridiculous of things, and the warmth that came with simply being around her, her intelligence, her charm, and bright smile.
The erection he had managed to give himself was so hard, it hurt. He certainly wasn’t going to be able to sleep now as is. At least he knew that masturbating would increase the chances of falling asleep, and probably help with the lingering headache. Adding saliva to his hand, he slipped it under the band of his sleep shorts. He set to it, letting himself sink into the sensations as he went through the scenarios of him and Anne together again and again. He stroked, his breath quickened, getting closer.
But then his bliss shattered with the jarring buzz of his phone vibrating the pattern of a text message on the bedside table.
“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration as the sound completely threw him off focus. He knew he should just ignore Erik’s text and respond in the morning, but already disrupted, he thought that he might as well.
But it wasn’t his brother, and his face split into a giddy grin.
“Sorry for the late message. Couldn’t sleep, and had an idea for the presentation. What if we opened with a story about the power of collaboration? Highlight how our partnership has driven innovation and success at HG. They don’t have to know it’s not entirely accurate (yet) 😁. Just a thought, lmk.”
It was as if he manifested the woman from his fantasies. Right now, the only collaboration with her he wanted to think about was the kind where he made her scream in delight.
He was Horny with a capital H.
She was thinking about me at 3am. Was she touching herself too?
He didn’t know why he was so nervous to write back, but after a minute’s consideration, he said, “Good idea. Now go to sleep. :)”
Almost immediately, she replied, “You too, huh?”
Oh, how little she actually knew about the “too.”
He tapped out, “Go. The fuck. To sleep.” and then turned on the Do Not Disturb function on his phone.
It wasn’t because he didn’t want to hear from her in these late hours. It was because he did want to, and sleep was priority one, and he wouldn’t get there talking with her in the dead of night. In order to get to sleep, what he really needed to do was finish. So he thought about her pleasuring herself at the same time he was, and eventually, he got there.
Sunday morning sun awoke Damien. With a groggy groan, he rolled over and checked the time on his phone: 10:08am. He was so tired and desperately wanted to sleep more. But he had much too much to do today. His wealth, fortune, and life as a CEO gave him many things, but the opportunity to sleep in was not something he could afford to do with any reliable frequency. He schlepped himself to the bathroom, wiping both sleep and discharge from his bad eye, before going through the motions for the rest of his weekend morning routine, the lazy version that involved simply combing his hair back and away from his face instead and sparing himself the extra labor of fine-tuning his facial hair.
Stopping first at a local coffee shop for his Americano and a croissant, Damien navigated the quiet streets on a call with his Chief Information Technology Officer, discussing the next steps in handling Charlie’s sudden departure.
“If you can email me or text me the password for his computer,” Damien had said, “it’s imperative to get the vital info about ongoing projects, contacts, and any other pertinent information that could affect our daily operations. I’d like to have a bit of a leg-up by tomorrow.”
Parking his own car in his spot in the garage, Damien spotted another in Charlie’s designated space—but it wasn’t Charlie’s Jaguar, thankfully. Damien didn’t want to face that man in any shape or form today, not that the man’s ID would have gotten him to the 59th floor after his firing anyway. The overgenerous golden parachute Charlie had been handed would hopefully keep him at bay. Instead, a jolt of nervous excitement shot through him at the sight, his curiosity piqued at the presence of the woman who had been occupying his thoughts nonstop.
He pressed his dongle to the sensor and with a push, turned the button for the 50th floor from cool white to bright red. Damien’s pulse quickened as the elevator rose, debating if his decision to stop in and see her was a smart one. But there was no one around to judge, so he continued with his trek up to her office. Standing outside the doors to marketing, his hand hesitated above the handle. He contemplated how to broach the subject of Charlie’s termination, but in the end, he decided to maintain the facade of normalcy, at least for now. He walked over to her office, surprised she didn’t hear him as he did. He fought to suppress the flutter of nerves in his chest.
“Is everybody else late or are we just extra early?” he asked coyly, feeling a twinge of guilt as she jumped in her seat. His breath caught in his throat as she met his eyes, the warmth of her genuine but small smile sending a shiver down his spine. He took a seat in the chair opposite her desk, her eyes sweeping over him. This time it really did look like it leaned more in the direction of cataloging a change in dress. But there was something else that simmered underneath.
“Damien, hi, you startled me. How’d you know I was here?”
Damien cleared his throat, willing his voice to remain steady and mask his nerves. “Well I was here to pick up a few things, and tie up some loose ends from the executive meeting earlier in the week. I saw your car parked in Charlie’s spot. Well, I assumed it was you. I knew it wasn’t his, and nobody else would be so brazen.”
He leaned forward playfully, dropping his voice to just above a whisper as he smiled, “But I won’t tell, if you don’t tell.”
She returned what looked like a restrained, unenthusiastic smile. He anxiously worried if he had done something wrong, and sat back in his chair to give her distance if that’s what she needed. If that’s what she wanted, there was a stab of sadness as he hoped that wasn’t the case.
“So what is it you’re working on that has you so worked up that you’re texting me during the witching hours, and has brought you in all by your lonesome on a Sunday?”
Anne was certainly dressed for a Sunday at the office, wearing her most casual clothes. A pair of cutoff jeans, flip flops, and a graphic t-shirt. While he could sense some of her discomfort in the contrast in the way they were dressed, he thought she looked lovely. It felt like it was the most genuine version of her. No, she wasn’t wearing anything but a robe, but she looked approachable and down to Earth, and beautifully herself.
He wasn’t going to tell her any of that.
Damien picked up a piece of paper on her desk, reading it over. It was a strange piece of paper, an internal memo that went to the executives and a few other members of other departments. It contained sparse fluid details of a project that wasn’t likely to be started for over a year—a string of community solar farms hopefully to be constructed across New York. It was a piece of paper that had no business being on her desk.
“That,” she resigned. “That is what I’m working on.”
Damien knew who gave it to her. The blank space at the bottom of the page was marked with Charlie’s sloppy handwriting, an intranet location and password for the page circled and underlined. He flipped the paper over to find the backside of the sheet as blank and white as fresh snow, the embossed pen marks from the front showing through.
“Hm,” was all Damien said.
The project on this paper, one she should not have so much as laid eyes on in the first place, was constantly in flux. There was nothing for her to “work on.”
Why would Charlie give her this?
Damien placed it down on the table again, silence permeating the space between them. Only the creamy clacks of Anne’s typing filled the vacuum. But it wasn’t a tense silence.
“Hey,” Damien said, and her eyes only met his for a fraction of a second before returning back to whatever was on her computer screen.
“Yes?”
“Look at me,” Damien urged gently, and she stopped typing. Actually meeting his eyes, she placed her hands in her lap, and Damien saw her disassociate for the smallest fraction of a second. “Are you okay?”
Something happened to her in that moment. He watched as sadness and stress washed over her. Her eyes glazed over, and she bit her lip, not in the sexual way that might have ordinarily turned him on, but in the way that kind of broke his heart. Anne nodded yes, but he knew that was as far from the truth as it could get at that moment. She certainly looked to be on the verge of tears, and the faintest blush touched her cheeks. He desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her.
“Should we have our ‘conversation? Take a break from whatever task is stressing you out and make you stress out over another?” He gestured to the paper, and hoped his remark and smile were light enough to lift her spirits just a little.
The look she gave him was tired, but she agreed.
Before they started the presentation, she walked Damien through the anecdote she planned to begin with. It was a tad fabricated in the sense that it was premature to talk about working together on a rebrand they couldn’t announce yet, but she had clearly thought about the ways to be truthful while also being vague. Moving onto the main event, the two of them went through the keynote, she casually flipping through the slides on her computer at the appropriate times as they went. Damien was impressed at the vast improvement she showed since the last time they had gone through it. There were nerves there, sure, but her cadence and tone were casual and friendly. She only referenced her notes a few times, and much to his delight, her eyes were mostly on him. She sounded like the expert in the room, and he was more than happy to let her be it.
“You’re ready,” he affirmed, getting to his feet and moving towards the door. “One less thing to worry about.”
Coyly, Damien winked at her.
“Well,” he amended, “at least until the night before. I’ll see you at the airport, bright and early Wednesday morning. You can find me wearing my tackiest Hawaiian shirt.”
Anne looked at him with a very serious expression. “If I walk into the airport and I see you wearing a Hawaiian shirt, I will turn around and walk right back out.”
Damien gave her the most exaggerated expression of disbelief he could muster. “That is offensive. I’m at my sexiest when I channel Jimmy Buffett.”
Her eyebrow quirked slightly. “Those things are mutually exclusive, but I’ll let you continue to indulge in your delusions.”
Damien’s face split involuntarily into a wide grin, and as he backed out of Anne’s office, he slid his sunglasses over his eyes.
Why’d you do that, idiot? You’re inside.
I don’t know, because the moment called for a little pizzazz?
“Pizzazz?” His mind scoffed.
Back in the elevator, he pulled his shades off just in time for the doors to open on the 59th floor. Charlie’s office, despite his ten years of being with the company, had never been particularly personalized, and certainly not in the way Damien’s office reflected his likes and personality. It had once only held some pictures of his wife and kids, a peace lily, a calendar, and a framed pair of tickets to an old Rolling Stones concert. Still, the office felt especially naked. After reviewing his text messages from the CITO, Damien logged onto Charlie’s computer and began sifting through the folders, files, and other emails. The emails that had once flooded Charlie’s inbox going forth would inundate Damien’s, each a reminder of the void left by the absence of a President of Marketing. They were all just a wall of bold, unread message subject lines. One by one he went, collecting the names, numbers, and important points of contact—a menial and tedious task, but there was one name that kept popping up unread: Anne’s.
Clicking through them, every email had some variation of, “I’m following up with you about introducing me to someone from International Marketing so I can finish up the international piece of the rebrand proposal.”
No wonder she was oozing stress, there were almost a dozen emails asking Charlie for something that should have been a whole three minutes of labor. Emails above and below each of them were read, so it was very clear that Charlie’s avoidance of completing her request was completely intentional.
Damien felt a surge of protective irritation, which morphed into a sense of responsibility as he scrolled in search of a potential contact. He couldn’t disregard the fact that Anne had been left hanging, her requests ignored by the now-deposed President of Marketing. The Outlook search function had never frustrated him more as he tried to hone in on who his International Marketing Manager was. After what felt like an eternity of searching, he found a name. With a determined expression, Damien clicked on Anne’s most recent email thread and drafted a reply.
“Apologies for the delay in getting back to you with this. I’ve been tied up, but I’m tagging in Jaquie, International Marketing Manager. She should be able to help you with any remaining details you or your team need to complete the rebrand. Let me know if there’s anything else you require. - Charlie”
With a satisfied nod, Damien scheduled the email to be sent first thing in the morning, ensuring that Anne would get the help she needed first thing and without delay, while making sure the contact in London had enough time to see it and reply.”
As he leaned back in Charlie’s chair, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. On one hand, he felt a sense of relief at being able to get Anne the support she needed and alleviate some of her stress. On the other hand, he hated the nagging feeling of guilt he felt not for impersonating Charlie, but more so for impersonating him to keep her in the dark about his termination. There was a sense of heavy weight on his shoulders as he increasingly struggled to balance professional duties and personal desires. A CEO he was. A funambulist he was not.
With a heavy sigh, Damien closed Charlie’s inbox and rose from the desk. His mind was a whirlwind. The impending presentation in Miami loomed large in his mind, an intense and constant reminder of the close proximity he would share with Anne. While a part of him was more than eager to work closer with her, skin-to-skin in an ideal world, his mind was equally pregnant with the apprehension and anxiety that accompanied that desire and the specter of Charlie’s accusations. Colleagues’ eyes would certainly be tracking his and her interactions now after witnessing that very public heated exchange.
The only word Damien could find to describe his state of mind at that moment was “crisis.” How desperately he wanted to be honest with Anne about his feelings, and how he wanted to act on them.
As the lines once so carefully drawn began to blur, the eustress he felt began to morph into the feeling of being a sailboat maneuvering headlong into the eye of a hurricane.