The Billionaire's Board

by Lark Anderson

My brow raises. “Keep her?”

  “She’s just so adorable, Gabe. And ridiculously innocent! She would have never gotten the position without you.”

  The words feel like a punch in the gut. Analise is great at reading people, reading talent.

  “You’re saying I shouldn’t have promoted her? That she’s not qualified?”

  She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, no. That’s not it. She’s probably some kind of wunderkind, that’s for sure. But she’s not competitive. There’s no politics going on in that big brain of hers. It’s all analytical.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief, a slight whistle escaping my lips. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Yeah, but ya better be careful. She’s not going to navigate this shit storm well.”

  “I’m going to need you to help with that.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. I’m glad she’s not competitive—apolitical even. It’s actually exactly what I need. Someone who’s going to care about the numbers and not how Mr. Dingle-Barry feels about the hurt feelings of Charles Hackman when we drop his software.”

  “Dingle’s not the problem.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t want to say—”

  “My father? You didn’t want to tell me my father is a problem. Trust me, Gabe, I know my father’s a problem—but he’s also really good at what he does!” Her face twists in pain, and I regret not choosing my words better.

  Analise would make one heck of a board member, but that’s an impossibility with her father still around. You see, my grandfather wrote into the bylaws that members of the board cannot be blood relatives. Oddly, an adopted son can serve on the same board as his adoptive parent, but a natural son cannot.

  Because Cregor refuses to retire, Analise has been kept at arm’s length from the board and anything going on behind closed doors. Because I believe she should be in there, I teleconference her in, quietly. Something that could get me in a lot of trouble, but I do it anyway because one day, I fully intend to make her a part of the board.

  “Look, I like your father. Love him, actually. Icor Tech wouldn’t be what it is today without him.”

  “You don’t have to go singing his praise to me. Just be mindful.”

  “Yeah, mindful. You’re absolutely right, and I’m sorry.”

  “So, you want me to babysit Ms. Brainiac?”

  I look Analise dead in the eye, so she can see my intentions clearly.

  “Analise, you are not a babysitter. One day, I want you to be my second. My right-hand man—or woman rather. This ‘babysitting’ as you call it, isn’t some sort of punishment. Remi is one of the company’s most precious assets at the moment. I can’t afford to lose her.”

  “You really think this kid’s going to solve all your problems.”

  “Well, not all my problems, but she’ll be essential in streaming processes—which is exactly what we need. Without prompt, she had data compiled that I’ve been analyzing for months, and she was ready to present it.”

  “What if it’s an anomaly? A one shot?”

  “I have a feeling Ms. Brainiac is going to find a lot of inefficiencies, and if she doesn’t, I can certainly point some out to her. The difference between her presenting them and myself is going to be what cuts through all the red tape.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I mean, she has Tom charmed. As much as I hate to say it, Tom has a lot of pull with the other members of the board. If she has him, we have the numbers.”

  Analise chuckles. “Yeah, I’ll say. He’s already asked her to dinner.”

  A sickly feeling churns in my gut. “Dinner?”

  “Yeah. Why do you look so surprised? It’s Tom!”

  I exhale, a small sigh escaping my lips as I imagine Remi sitting across from Tom, talking over a bottle of wine.

  Now, don’t get me wrong, Tom is a good guy. An intelligent man. But—putting us together is like serving Chinese at the same dinner party that’s serving Italian. We don’t belong on the same plate. When I’m careful, he’s brazen. When I want to cut prices, he wants to raise them. Sometimes I feel like it’s personal, but that would be just plain silly. After all, Icor Tech gave him his first big break, and there aren’t many positions in the world better than his.

  But that’s not what’s nagging me. As I said, Tom is a good guy, but he’s also a bit of a womanizer. He’ll meet a woman, lavish her with attention, take her on vacation, then lose all interest. He gets bored easily, and the last thing I need is Remi getting upset over Tom’s disappearing act he likes to pull.

  You’re not being honest with yourself. Yes, you care about Remi’s productivity, but that’s not all you care about.

  I swallow as I recall Remi, a disheveled mess, walking into the boardroom a whole day early and focusing so much on her presentation she didn’t even realized she wasn’t wearing matching shoes.

  Every woman I’ve ever dated took hours to get ready, looking like walking perfection. It was their greatest care, how good they looked. Oh, and the size of my bank account.

  Remi is different.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” I say.

  “My thoughts exactly, but there isn’t much we can do about it.”

  Analise hops off my desk and begins her circle. It’s what she does when deep in thought. Walks in circles, forgetting the world around her, focusing only on the issues. I like her dedication, her drive. If I weren’t running the company, there wouldn’t be more capable hands to leave Icor Tech to.

  “Is it against company policy?”

  Analise looks at me, glowering. “Your granddad wasn’t big on company policy. There are rules put into place about dating your superiors, but it doesn’t lead to termination. We move them to positions that don’t report to one another. Anyway, this wouldn’t fall under that umbrella because they are in separate chains.”

  I think about them, laughing over cups of wine, sitting close to each other, his hand on her thigh. Soon they’re back at the Tower, in Tom’s suite. She’d probably spill her drink on her white dress. Tom’s just so damn charming he’d probably spill some on himself to make her feel less anxious. He’d make some comment on how wine stains, pulling his shirt off, showing her how the gym’s his favorite past time. She’d be impressed, of course, and she’d pull off—“

  “Gabe!” Analise snaps.

  “Oh, what?”

  “Focus!”

  “I am, I was just thinking.”

  “We can use this to our advantage. Tom votes against you all the time. If he thinks the idea’s coming from Remi though—”

  “My brain is one step ahead of you.”

  Is Tom thinking about Remi right now the way I am? Is he undressing her? Is he texting her?

  My nostrils flare as I exhale. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this? It’s not like I can ever be with Remi anyway. Maybe I’ll just send Tom a text, wish him luck, but also advising caution. I’ll explain to him that I have no problem with him dating Remi, but to try to keep it slow due to work relations.

  Damnit! What is wrong with me? I can’t get involved.

  “Have a suite cleared out on the forty-ninth floor for her. I’ll show it to her next week. Movers are getting scheduled.”

  Analise’s face contorts, and for a moment, I panic, worrying she can see right through me to my turbulent emotions.

  She’s staring at me, critically—angrily. “The forty-ninth floor? That’s with the Big 5! You can’t—”

  “Why can’t I?”

  Clearly aggravated, Analise clears her throat. Her response comes out slowly.

  “Fine. I’ll have it prepared right away, Mr. Icor.”

  Analise exits my office, and I’m left alone with my thoughts and a database full of intel showing me all the ways my company is squandering its resources—the legacy of my father’s negligence.

  Of course, he doesn’t have to watch the ship go down, manning a bucket to throw as much water overboard as one possibly can. And he won’t be
blamed either. Nope. All the fingers will be pointed at me.

  I can see the headlines now.

  Entitled Billionaire Heir Squanders Family Fortune

  Or

  Thousands of Jobs Lost after Gabriel Icor Runs Company Into Ground

  No! That’s not going to happen! There’s still time to turn this ship around, and if anyone can do it, it’s me.

  CHAPTER 9

  Remi gets a made over by a porn star…

  Exhausted, I exit Icor Tower and make my way to my apartment. It’s as though I’m walking on a cloud, in a dream, some kind of fantasy.

  After just four days in my position, I’m finally getting the hang of things. Sure, there’s a lot of dirty glances as I’m walking down the hall, but my mind is too preoccupied with my work—among other things—to really care that much.

  Just a week ago, I was a staggering mess, and now I’m making plans to move into ‘The Tower.’ On top of all that, I managed to snag a date.

  Tom Wellington, the Chief Finance Officer of Icor Tech, is not only smart, but he’s also insanely good looking. I’m talking blond hair, baby blue eyes, suit fitting good in all the right places.

  And he wants to take me out to eat.

  But it’s not a date. Why would Tom Wellington ever want to date you? It’s almost as absurd as Gabriel Icor wanting to date you.

  For once, I wish I was an optimist.

  The whole week has been so crazy I’ve barely gotten any sleep, and it’s not only because I was thinking about work.

  Oh no, it’s because I was reliving every moment I’ve been in Gabriel Icor’s glorious presence. Thinking of the way his hair falls over his eyes. How his hands move when he talks. How he articulates each word.

  And yes, I’ve undressed him in my mind—half a hundred times, and boy is he hot, though sadly, each time I get to his Under Armour boxer briefs, I chickened out, replaying the scene from the top.

  I step inside my building to the maniacal laughter of Mr. Sokolov.

  “You think you smart, with you tiny crevices you scurry up into. Well, Solo knows all you tricks. Pretty soon, you momma will wonder where you are. You understand?”

  My smile is as inevitable as Mr. Sokolov’s frustration, and as I quietly enter the stairwell, I hear his cries of victory.

  Mr. Sokolov: 1; Roaches: 1,000,000.

  Climbing the stairs, I’m distracted, and of course, I go past my floor, having to backtrack.

  Then I fall on the landing.

  Whoever says the ability to multitask is a gift doesn’t have to deal with the fallout, because all at once, my ankle is hot pain and my knee may no longer function.

  It takes me a minute to recover, the searing pain settling into a dull ache. I hobble through the door to my floor, pulling out my key.

  My phone vibrates. It’s Tom.

  Tom: Score! I got reservations for us at Deco 6!

  My heart sinks, my stomach threatens to turn over.

  Deco 6 can take months to get into, and Tom was able to land us reservations for tonight! I thought we’d grab something quick to eat, and listen to each other’s ideas, but Deco 6 isn’t a place you casually get to know each other.

  Remi: Ummm…I’m sorry, but I can’t.

  Tom: What’s wrong? Something come up?

  Remi: It’s just that I have nothing to wear. I thought we were going someplace casual.

  Tom: You can wear whatever you want. No one will deny you entrance when you’re with me.

  I chuckle, but really, I’m near tears. I don’t know what’s going on, what Tom’s intentions are. I feel stupid thinking he’d want to date me, but why would he bring a casual business acquaintance to Deco 6?

  My key slides in the lock, and I open the door to a guttural growl. Kibbles.

  Tom: I’m swinging by in thirty as we planned, be ready.

  My fingers hover over the keypad, wanting to cancel the dinner but too afraid of what would happen if I do.

  I don’t want to offend Tom. And the fact that he went ahead and booked that reservation makes me feel guilty, but before I can think on it, a 30lb. wrecking ball launches itself at me.

  “Kibbles!” I shout, unable to dodge the attack.

  She connects with my gut, then falls to the floor, scurrying off to get in position for another surprise attack.

  I rush to my cabinet, pulling out her favorite salmon-flavored treats but bump my head on the end of a shelf.

  Damnit!

  The room’s still dark, and I’m rummaging around for the treats, but Kibbles’ growls let me know I haven’t much time. She’s prowling, inching closer. I can’t see her, but she’s really not that graceful, and she leaves chaos in her wake. I know she’s close.

  The can of treats is in my hand now. I’m shaking it. Buying myself precious seconds.

  The growls cease, and she waddles her enormous body to my feet, knowing she has me tamed.

  I scatter a handful of treats on the floor, hoping it will keep her occupied long enough for me to find something to wear.

  Then, my giant brain does right by me, and I have an idea.

  I dash from my apartment to the apartment next to mine and pound on the door. After a moment, Porn Star Meg answers.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I have a date!”

  She smiles, clearly confused.“Well, good for you.”

  “No, I mean, I didn’t know I was going to have a date, and now that I have one. I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Oh,” she says, biting her lip. “Is this your way of asking me if I have something you can borrow?”

  “Yes!” I exclaim. “Please! Anything.”

  She disappears inside, then shouts for me to follow. We stop at a closet, and she eyes me critically.

  “My name’s Meghan, but you can call me Meg. Your name is Rommy, right?”

  “Remi, but close enough.”

  “Hmmm…You’re about my size, but a little shorter. Rounder at the hips…you slouch.”

  I look down, suddenly self-conscious.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “Deco 6.”

  Her mouth forms a perfect circle, her eyes lighting in surprise.

  “Does your date have a brother?” she finally says.

  “I don’t know. I’m still getting to know him.”

  “Here.” She thrusts a silver, sequined dress at me and all at once I back away, hands up.

  “What’s wrong? You allergic to silver?”

  “No, it’s just so…”

  “It’s sexy, slinky, and in style.”

  “It will show too much.”

  “It will do the job. Now go, leave. I’m kicking you out of my apartment.”

  I gasp, offended, and unable to articulate my feelings.

  “Oh stop, you’ll thank me later,” she says, pushing me towards her front door.

  “But, but…”

  “Oh shit, you’re probably crap at doing makeup, aren’t you?” she asks in a condescending tone.

  “I can do my makeup.”

  “Let’s get you dressed,” she says, practically ripping my clothes off me.

  I comply with her demands, and after I’m in the sequined dress, she pulls me, by my arm, into her bathroom and practically shoving me into a chair. At least a thousand cosmetics are surrounding the sink, and a ring light stands off to the side. I barely have time to register the assault before a barrage of brushes, pencils, and creams start coming at my face, and when she is done, I look in the mirror, and the face staring back to me is foreign—and beautiful.

  I bring my hand up to touch my cheek.

  “Ah, nope.” She bats my hand away. “Give it time to set, and even once it’s set, still don’t touch it.”

  How am I supposed to not touch my face?

  My eyes are dark, smokey. Lined in black pencil, they extend unnaturally outward. My lips are a bold shade of red, far different from the neutral pink tones I normally wear.

  I feel like
a different woman, one more suited for a magazine than corporate life.

  “You have a good bone structure. Your cheeks are damn near perfect,” Meghan says.

  I want to tell her she’s crazy, but looking at myself in the mirror, I feel a swell of pride.

  “Deco 6 is literally the hardest restaurant to get into right now! How are you so unprepared?”

  “I...well,” I stammer, “I didn’t realize until thirty minutes ago.”

  “Thirty minutes ago? You mean you have a date with a man that can get last-minute reservations for Deco?”

  “It’s just a dinner between…new friends.”

  Meghan laughs. “New friends? A man doesn’t get reservations to Deco for a ‘new friend’ honey.”

  I swallow, suddenly a thousand times more anxious. “I…I guess.”

  My phone vibrates.

  Tom: I’m downstairs, mind if I come up?

  “Who is it?” Meghan’s eyes grow round with excitement.

  “Oh, it’s just a coworker,” I say.

  “A coworker, or a rich daddy?”

  I snort, wondering what she thinks I do for a living.

  “I need to go,” I say, rising from my seat.

  “Let me grab you a purse. What size shoe do you wear?”

  Shoe? Damnit! My black pumps aren’t going to work with this dress.

  “Six-and-a-half?” I say, and she disappears from the room.

  Remi: I’ll be down in ten minutes.

  I exhale, terrified of what the night will bring. What if Tom suddenly realizes what a nerd I am? What if he laughs when he sees me and drives off?

  My hands are shaking. I grow suddenly hot.

  “Here,” Meghan holds out a pair of thigh-high boots to me. “Cram your little piggies in there.”

  I scrunch my brows. “You can’t be serious?”

  “God, you’re so adorable. Now get them on—no arguing.”