by Claire Adams
Everyone was again silent. It was on the tip of my tongue to continue the dressing down, when suddenly, unbidden, I thought of Lexi. I wondered if this is what it had felt like for her, being fired from her job. Becoming the scapegoat for the company, despite the fact that she'd churned out plenty of good work in the past.
Because I could tell that she'd done a lot of good work in the past. That presentation that she'd done for me, despite the fact that she'd been expecting to give a totally different type of presentation, had covered everything that I'd needed it to cover and then some.
Mr. Harrison, Jack, also turned in plenty of great work as a marketing executive. I knew that because I was still micromanaging the company at every turn, and I could tell you exactly what every one of the men and women in this room did on a daily basis. Suddenly, the idea of firing one of them over this just seemed petty.
I sighed and sat down in my seat, flipping open to a new page in my notebook. “Well?” I asked. “Can anyone come up with any reasons for why we didn't make our internal goals for the quarter?”
Everyone around the table exchanged glances, as though they thought it was some sort of trick question.
I raised an eyebrow at them. “Come on, you all must know something, either related to your own department or otherwise. Let's start with marketing for this quarter. We focused on online advertisement, as usual, but we also put up some billboards around Seattle. Jack, what were the numbers on those? Do we think they worked? If not, why not?”
Jack looked startled. He cleared his throat, looking around the table again as though he was hoping for someone to throw him a lifeline. But everyone else just looked surprised. Jack cleared his throat again. “We think the billboards worked, sir. We wouldn't have paid for them if we hadn't thought they would work.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Do we have any evidence that they were effective?”
Jack straightened, seeming to gain confidence. “We do,” he said, flipping open the folder in front of him. Come to think of it, it was the first time I could remember seeing one of the executives flip open their notes and reference something during a meeting. It was at least the first time in a long time. “We polled people as they made purchases through the Orinoco site. Granted, not everyone answered. But out of those who answered, a surprising number of them said that they saw our billboards and thought to purchase their items through our site.”
He paused and glanced around the group. “Bear in mind that the focus for these billboards was letting people know about things that they could purchase through our website which they might not otherwise have thought about. For example, one woman purchased groceries through the site after finding out she could. A college student bought a new phone through the site. The push was that they would find increased selection on our site, as well as better prices than they might find if they went to a brick-and-mortar store.”
I nodded. “So we know that the billboards were working,” I said. “Does anyone know any issues that we might have had this quarter?”
“There was bad weather,” Bobby said, clearly wanting to make up for earlier.
“Go on,” I said. “What does bad weather have to do with anything?” I had a feeling I knew where it was going, though, and that feeling was confirmed as he glanced over at Tim, the head of our logistics team. Tim remained silent, but he nodded encouragingly at Bobby.
“In February, there were a lot of delays,” Bobby said. “With highways being closed due to avalanche risks through the midwest and ice in other places as well. That affected our supply chain and our delivery times, so we weren't able to meet our guaranteed shipping times in all cases.”
“We did have to shell out a lot of money in partial refunds when products didn't arrive by the dates they were supposed to,” Margot, one of the accounting execs, piped up. “Even though those products were eventually delivered to the customers, because they didn't meet the guarantees, that meant that we weren't making as much profit per product.”
“And it also led to a lot of negative consumer sentiment,” Michelle added, nodding her head. “There were a lot of negative reviews that got posted to product pages strictly because people were upset about how long it took to receive certain orders. There were also a number of people who vowed not to use Orinoco again because they didn't trust our shipping guarantee, even if we did, as Margot said, give people partial refunds when we didn't meet those guarantees.”
“That negative consumer sentiment wasn't just regarding late deliveries, though,” Jack mused. “There was actually a surprising amount of negative feedback on the billboards where people didn't want to use Orinoco rather than a brick-and-mortar shop to purchase certain things like groceries. I guess it felt too impersonal to them.”
“All right,” I said, pleased with the way the discussion was going. “So maybe that's what we need to focus on in the coming quarter: eliminating, or at least minimizing, that negative consumer sentiment. Helping people realize that even though they're purchasing those items with the intermediary of a large corporation, it still goes back to those same mom-and-pop shops. That's where we're getting a lot of our products from. How are we going to do that?”
The rest of the meeting was productive. At first, things were still a little quiet. No one wanted to be wrong. But as I continued to give positive feedback on various ideas, more and more people began to chime in. They still seemed terrified, perhaps more so now than they had when they'd been able to predict what my reactions were going to be. But it was productive all the same.
“All right,” I said as we began to wrap up the meeting. “Those were some good ideas. Now, I'm not going to fire anyone because of last quarter's failures. However, I do want us all to try to incorporate some of what we've discussed in this meeting into what we're going to do for the coming quarter. Let’s see if we can not only meet our internal goals, but surpass them.”
There was another glance shared around the table. Everyone looked frightened.
“I'm not going to fire anyone next quarter if we don’t surpass those goals,” I said, rolling my eyes, even though inwardly, I was starting to wonder about company morale. “The company is still increasing its profits, as was mentioned before. That's what I like to see. I'd just like to see more.”
They stared at me as though I'd gone insane.
I stood abruptly. “I believe that's all we have time for today. If you have any further inspiration, you know where to find me.”
I couldn't remember the last time someone had come to my office just to chat about an idea. Usually, I needed to summon them there regarding perceived issues that the company was having.
The only thing I could think about, as I headed back to my office, was that I had never realized what an asshole I'd been to my employees before.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lexi
I smiled at the picture that Emma was proudly showing off to me, even though I didn't really see the unicorn that she was going on and on about. It was cute to see her so excited, though.
“We'll hang it on the fridge,” I promised her. Then, I smiled slyly. “Or maybe Daddy will hang it up in his work office.”
Andrew was allowing Emma to continue calling him Daddy, although neither of us had told her to call him that. Still, he didn't want to advertise the fact that he had a child. He'd still hang the picture up in his office if Emma asked him to, but he'd be forced to come up with some sort of story explaining where the picture had come from.
Maybe it was a little mean for me to encourage that, but I didn't mind.
“All right, kiddo, it's time to get you to bed,” I told Emma as she wound down her story about the unicorn.
She pouted. “I don't want to,” she said.
“But remember the new stuffed animal that Daddy brought you from his trip?” I asked her. “Don't you want to go cuddle with him?”
“Can you tell us a bedtime story?” Emma pleaded, and I smiled at her.
“Of course, I wi
ll,” I said.
“But make it like one of Daddy's stories,” Emma commanded. “I want princesses.”
I stifled a laugh. “All right, I'll tell you a princess story, just like Daddy does,” I promised. “Come on, let's go get you in your pajamas.”
I led her upstairs to her “big girl room.” Emma had been sleeping with me during the month and a half that we'd been staying there, and eventually, she'd needed to have her own bed. But rather than move a new bed into the room with me, like I'd expected, Andrew had decided to give Emma her own guest room to stay in. The place had rapidly been filled with toys and pictures on the walls, and Andrew had even gone so far as to hang glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling.
Emma was thrilled with it, and I'd heard her telling Janice about it more than once, even though Janice, of course, already knew about the room.
It made me wonder what was going to happen when we had to move out, when Emma lost her own room again. I still hadn’t found a job, although I'd resumed searching, and even if I managed to find a job, it would need to be a well-paying one indeed if I was going to afford a place with two bedrooms, in addition to paying for Emma's daycare and all of her other needs.
I pushed that thought out of my mind, helping Emma select a pair of pajamas for the night and getting her changed into them. I told her a bedtime story, one with princesses. She drifted off to sleep before the princess even left the castle.
I retreated to my own room. Even though it was a guest bedroom in Andrew's mansion, it had, in fact, started to seem like my own room. I hadn't gone so far as to hang up anything on the walls or otherwise personalize the place, but I did know where all of my things went, from clothes to knick-knacks, and everything about living there started to seem strangely normal.
That was dangerous, given that Andrew and I still hadn't had any sort of talk about what we were going to do long-term. I was still expecting him to come home with some floozie and give me an ultimatum for getting myself out of the house.
I didn't know when he was going to find us that apartment downtown that he'd once talked about. I knew that he liked having Emma around, but there was no reason why he needed to keep me there as well. I had once told Misty how afraid I was that he was going to sue for custody of Emma, and I was starting to wonder if that might really be his plan, once Emma could demonstrate that she loved him just as much as she loved me.
But surprisingly enough, Andrew was starting to spend more time around the house as well. We'd done a number of things as a family over the past month, ever since our outing to the Children's Museum. One day, he'd taken us to the zoo. Another day, we'd gone for a cruise on the water. Some days, we just went into downtown and wandered around.
Andrew was, of course, still overworking himself. He wouldn't have been Andrew if he wasn't. But he was working from home a lot more frequently, spending lunches with Emma and me in the kitchen. A lot of times, he would take a break in the afternoon and entertain Emma then as well.
It was starting to feel very domestic around the house, and the best part was, it all felt natural between us. We weren't forcing this relationship.
That said, we needed to talk about the long-term plan, and soon. Before Emma got too attached to the place and to always having her Daddy around.
Before I get too attached, I thought.
I swallowed hard, trying to think of how to even approach that conversation. The trouble was, I didn't want to leave. We were comfortable there, both Emma and me. Of course, every time Andrew inquired about my job search, I felt slightly guiltier about how I was basically taking advantage of him. I was terrified that his response was going to be to kick me out and take Emma as his own. No matter how much he seemed to have changed, I didn't trust him to be kind to me.
I couldn't keep living like this, though.
I put my shoulders back and marched out of the room and over to his. I was never going to be ready for this conversation, so I might as well get it over with, I reasoned.
I knocked on the door, and when no one answered, I knocked again, a little louder this time. I frowned, wondering if it was possible that he'd already gone to bed. I knew he was there. I'd heard him head upstairs while I was telling Emma her story. Maybe he'd had a rough day at work and didn't want to talk about it, though. He'd been late getting home.
After a moment of indecision, I decided to peek inside. Maybe he'd gone back downstairs and wasn't in there at all. If I could verify that he wasn't there, I could go looking for him.
I slowly opened the door, poking my head inside. “Andrew?” I called.
I was just in time to see him walk out of the bathroom, clad in only a towel. I knew I should back up and pretend that I hadn't seen him, but for a moment, I couldn't tear my eyes away. I could see the faintest traces of moisture still sliding down his chest. He'd been incredibly hot the last time I'd seen him naked, I remembered, but he looked even more muscular now. Or maybe I'd managed to forget how chiseled those abs were and how slim his waist was.
The crisp whiteness of the towel emphasized his tanned skin. He looked like a bronzed Greek god come to life before me, a perfect example of classic masculinity. I wanted to run my fingers over his body, to trace those water droplets with my tongue, and to fall into bed with him.
It hit me like a punch to the gut. I wanted to fall into bed with him.
I'd been attracted to him over the past weeks that Emma and I had been living in his house, but not with this level of carnal need. Seeing him nearly naked like this, it took all of my willpower not to rush over to him. But I could already feel a distinct dampness in my panties. My legs felt weak, as though they wouldn't support me.
I didn't realize I'd made a noise until Andrew's eyes swung towards me. He looked surprised to see me standing there, no hint of cockiness like I might have expected. “What's wrong?” he asked. “Is Emma okay?”
“Yeah,” I managed, my mouth dry as a desert. “Everything's fine.”
Some of his arrogance began to creep back in. He raised an eyebrow at me. “So, to what do I owe this visit?”
I blinked, trying to focus on the present. I realized that I was standing there, half in his room, when he had clearly just come out of the shower. “I just wanted to talk,” I admitted. “I didn't realize that you would be, uh, indisposed.”
My eyes flicked down to his towel again, and then I forced myself to look back to his face. I could feel that I was blushing, and I was sure he could see it as well.
We stood there in silence for a moment. It felt as though we were hanging on the edge of some precipice. It was my choice, I realized, how we proceeded from here.
I took a hesitant step into the room, shutting the door carefully behind me. I could hardly breathe as I walked over to him, my thoughts buzzing and my body practically vibrating with nervous energy. I didn't know what was propelling me forwards, but I didn't try to stop it.
Instead, I stood up on my tiptoes to kiss him.
Andrew didn't seem shocked. Indeed, he kissed back immediately. His mouth moved warmly against mine. It was as though this was planned, as though it hadn't been years since the last time that we'd coupled with one another. There was a hunger to the kiss that spoke to all that sexual tension, though. I wouldn't go so far as to say that sparks sizzled in the air, but there was something undeniably right about the kiss, something that I couldn't put my finger on.
I sighed into it. My hands came up to loop around the back of his neck. I pressed up against him, and I could feel his hardness, thinly veiled beneath his towel. I shivered.
Andrew turned us around and took a step forward, slowly leading me back toward the bed. He gave me plenty of time to resist, to pull away or to leave, but I didn't want to. Instead, I let him push me back onto the soft sheets.
He followed me easily, continuing the kiss the moment we were settled. His hands came up, fingers working to deftly strip me of my clothes. Even though I knew this wasn't the smartest idea, even though I knew that this
was how we'd ended up in this mess in the first place, I couldn't deny how badly I wanted this. I was practically trembling with desire.
His fingers drew lines of fire along my skin, sending wave after wave of heated lust cascading through my core. I whimpered, begging him without words to move faster and give me what I needed. What we both needed, actually. His cock was rigid and leaking precum as I stripped away his towel. He needed this just as badly as I did.
Sure enough, he didn't delay, didn't tease me as he had the previous time. Instead, he pushed inside me, moving carefully, surely aware of how unused to this my body was after years without.
I sobbed at the perfect sensation, and my body arched into his. I wouldn't have been able to keep quiet if I'd wanted to. It was impossible to hold back little noises of pleasure as he began to thrust into me, sending me spiraling into the strongest feelings of pleasure that I'd ever experienced.
Goosebumps erupted across my skin as he continued to use my body, effortlessly finding my pleasure-spots. My eyes slammed shut of their own accord, and my hands found their way up to the headboard, using it for leverage as I pushed back into his thrusts. I rocked my hips so that he hit that bundle of nerves deep inside me.
I came, and loudly cried out his name. That only seemed to spur him on, until he thrust his hips in wild abandon, using my body for his own pleasure. It wasn't long, though, before his hips stuttered against mine, and he groaned, long and low. He pulled out, spilling his cum across my stomach. His manhood twitched helplessly as it spurted its completion.
When the orgasm had faded, and he had gotten his breathing back, he smiled up at me. “Figured it was safer that way,” he said, gesturing towards the mess.
He reached towards the tissue box on the bedside table and began to tenderly clean me up, smiling as I giggled. Then, he flopped down beside me.
I yawned widely, worn out but worried. “Should I get out?” I asked, already sitting up.
But Andrew caught my wrist, pulling me back towards his chest. “Come here,” he said, pulling the covers up around us and wrapping his arms around me.
