A Billionaire's Love Read online

  It’s time for me to go. I need to leave the room while I still have a job.

  As I turn to leave, he stops me with a wave of his hands.

  “Maribel, would you be open if I pick your brains some more about this issue? I need a fresh set of eyes.”

  Wow. “Sure, I’m mean, you’re the boss.”

  His eyes narrow. “I’m asking you because I appreciate your insight. And you’re the first person who has told me something different about the situation. Everyone else, they are stuck in groupthink.”

  “Okay.” My heart leaps. It’s intoxicating, having such a powerful man listen so earnestly. I don’t know how my heart is going to take a follow-up conservation with Mr. Price. I don’t want to get my hopes up.

  As I leave the room, I’m reeling with my interaction with him.

  When I get back to my work area, no one says a word.

  Well, except Dan, who whispers thank you.

  We get back to typing.

  There’s so much work to do.

  Three

  David

  I have only a moment to catch my breath after talking with Maribel before Anna descends on me.

  She’s all frantic energy and ambition.

  Today is no exception.

  She barges in with a storm of words and I freeze when I hear Maribel name. She’s insulting her and delegitimizing Maribel’s statements.

  “Anna, enough.” Being a commanding CEO has its perks; her mouth automatically snaps shut. “I looked into the staffing and its way off. It’s not possible for the customer happiness team to respond to the barrage of emails. I’ve run the numbers.”

  Anna means well, she does. But she’s wants to look good at work to the point of irrationality. I know that she would work her staff into the ground if it meant that she looked good. She would rather stomp on her underlings with stilettos than say a kind word to them.

  I let my voice soften. “I understand why you underestimated the amount of staffing needed. We are always looking for ways to trim the fat. But there are only so many hours in the day and the numbers are off. We need more people.”

  Anna’s face is crestfallen.

  “Anna, I appreciate receiving direct feedback. Our company is only as strong as its weakest link. We need to reevaluate our strategy for this crisis. Dismissed.”

  Anna nods. She knows the drill. For all her ambition, she won’t go against a direct order.

  “And Anna, don’t take anything out on Maribel. I mean it. We need more feedback from the staff and we won’t get it if there’s retaliation.”

  She nods helplessly. I don’t think she would contravene a direct order. But there’s always a first time.

  Once she’s out of my hair, my thoughts land on Maribel Flores.

  I was surprised as she was when she spoke up today.

  She’s quiet and keeps to herself.

  And she’s right to be surprised that I know her name. I was disingenuous with her, but I couldn’t let on the real reason.

  At 40, I finally had it all.

  When I was just a kid, I decided I would be a billionaire, just like I decided my Little League baseball team would compete in the World Series.

  I was right about both things.

  All through my twenties, I had been animated by a relentless drive to succeed. Start up after start up tanked until I finally made it, fighting tooth and nail, to the top.

  If I’m being honest, my addiction to this job waned after my company was valued in the billions.

  For the last couple of months, I’ve been off my game.

  And then this crisis.

  Officially, it’s no crisis. It’s a minor privacy breach. But what I and a small number of people know privately is that this is major.

  We were the ones who messed up.

  These issues have been going on for months.

  I’m sitting on a disclosure that could threaten the company.

  And for once, I’m not spoiling for a fight.

  It’s against this backdrop of worry and stress and funk that Maribel Flores entered the pictured.

  I had been fighting an attraction to Ms. Maribel Flores for months.

  She wasn’t my normal type.

  I had tended to date leggy blondes, modelesque and refined, who looked equally at home in Oscar de Le Renta and on the slopes of Vail. I had almost discounted her at first, with her full but serious mouth and austere buns.

  But I had seen her one day at her lunch break, sitting alone in the kitchen with her nose in a book. She was so engrossed in her book that I started to wonder about her. What was hiding underneath the surface? What drove her? What did she desire?

  I started to wake up to her subdued beauty until she became a point of near obsession. Her rich, dark eyes like chocolate, her sweet, full mouth –serious, but arousing. Her love of skirts. She’s modest in how she dresses, but her skirts can’t help but hug her incredible ass in all of the right places.

  And yeah, I know it’s messed up.

  For multiple reasons.

  Just the other month, a fellow CEO stepped down for sexual misconduct.

  The tide is turning.

  There’s disgusting scum in the tech business. And that CEO was one of them. There had been rumors for years about his improper and coercive relationships. And this most recent one was particularly damning.

  It’s an insult to the woman involved that it’s been called a relationship in the press.

  She says it was nonconsensual.

  He says it was a relationship.

  And while the he said she said dynamic has traditionally gone to favor the aggressors, the aftermath of the CEO’s ousting sent shock waves throughout the tech world. We aren’t immortal. We aren’t gods. We are fallible and on unstable ground.

  When I was a kid, I thought being a billionaire meant having it all.

  I thought it meant I could do anything and be anyone.

  It’s true that I run a tight ship. I’m hands on. I handle my shit.

  But it’s still a delicate dance.

  I’m still beholden to my Board, shareholders, and the public.

  I hate this feeling that I’m not in control.

  I hate this feeling that I need to watch myself.

  And I hate that I want Maribel Flores, at a time when my company is vulnerable.

  For all I know, she’s lesbian.

  What do I know about her?

  I hadn’t realized early on, but I started to become fascinated with her one day at a time. I had even read the same book she was reading that day in the kitchen (Elena Ferrante’s Neopolitan’s Quartet - not about ice cream, but just as addicting).

  I had my personal investigator look into her, because Maribel was such a tempting morsel that I had a hard time believing in the serendipity of it all. Maribel’s squeaky clean.

  My company is approaching a full-blown crisis. And I’m wasting money on this.

  I’ve had a string of women in my life and nothing to show for it.

  And I can’t stop thinking about Maribel.

  Maribel’s understated beauty isn’t just physical. She is kind to others, but also shy and reserved. I want to unwrap all of her layers, break down her insecurities and shyness, until she is a panting, moaning mess. Until all other facades collapse and I can stare into her eyes to my heart’s content. And finally know - what is this?

  I also want to keep my company safe. There can be no whiff of scandal. The board is considering formalizing a strict ban on superior/subordinate romantic entanglements. It’s very timely of them. Typical.

  Today, I couldn’t help myself.

  First of all, I need to hear from other people in the company. I’m not bullshitting myself on this. There is something brewing behind the scenes with my upper management team. They are loyal, sure, but also ambitious. Someone is maneuvering behind the scenes. A power grab? It’s not impossible.

  Maribel is the only one who spoke up. I hope that with her example others do too.<
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  But secondly, Maribel looked absolutely delectable today. I don’t mean that I was only interested in what she had to say because it was her who spoke up. I would have welcomed feedback from anyone. We need all hands on deck.

  But, she looked ravishing. All shy and nervous, dressed in her customary blouse and pencil skirt.

  And now I’ve opened a door. I am going to follow up with her.

  Right after I get my impulses under control.

  Right?

  I’m in trouble.

  Four

  Maribel

  The next day I wake to the customary blanket of fog.

  I can’t get out of bed.

  That is, until memories of yesterday flooded in.

  Surprisingly, perfect Anna didn’t chew me out for speaking up.

  Instead, she asked me to share my thoughts with her. And I did. I hadn’t realized how much I had thought about the topic until it all came spilling out of me.

  And it felt great being listened to.

  So it’s with butterflies fluttering in my stomach that I step into the office.

  I check my email, seeing that we have another team meeting this morning. That was quick.

  I start working through things on my Dashboard until the meeting time.

  It’s Anna up front, imposing and grand. My eyes are already sweeping around the meeting room until I find him. He’s the sun and we are always orbiting around him.

  Mr. Price is sitting in the back, obviously trying to let Anna run the show.

  She starts briskly. Anna has got to be the most caffeinated person on the planet.

  It takes me a while to process what she is saying talking at warped speed - and it’s all dressed up and filled with buzzwords - but then everything kicks in.

  She’s saying my ideas.

  I’m not saying they are the most original ideas on the planet.

  Some of the ideas I suggested were even moves that other companies had made.

  But some of them are my original ideas. She stresses authenticity and responsibility and making amends. I listen and I’m hit with a wave of self-doubt. After all, I don’t own these ideas. Everyone shares ideas. And Anna is presenting it in such a professional and intelligent way.

  I would have been up there scrambling like a doofus. But Anna is getting people to feel hope about their jobs again.

  Everyone looks engaged and excited. There’s a momentum in the room now that hadn’t been there before, when we were drowning under the weight of user tickets and a guilt of a privacy breach.

  It’s a quick meeting, but my teammates leave with an extra pep in their step. I hadn’t realized how many of them felt uneasy about the previous engagement around the privacy issue.

  Anna breezes right past me and looks me confidently in the eye.

  Any concern I wanted to raise with her disappears.

  It’s just how things go, right?

  * * *

  After the meeting, my productivity is tanking. Anna is making the rounds, scanning the group like a hawk for any hint of distraction. Like a hawk with great, beady eyes. Actually, her eyes are beautiful, like the rest of her. Being petty is my way of coping.

  Instead of working, I’m refreshing my personal email, looking for a dopamine hit. All week, I’ve been impatiently checking the status of a package I ordered. I ordered a new lingerie set.

  You won’t know it by looking at me, but I’m addicting to buying lingerie.

  Outside, I’m all prim and proper – long straight brown hair tied back into a bun and a serious mouth. Growing up, the other kids teased me by calling me a librarian, for my love of reading and my desire to follow the rules. But underneath, I wear lace, tulle, satin. It’s my little secret.

  Lingerie is beautiful – on all bodies.

  My life is full of shades of gray. Even my clothes are drab. Wearing lingerie is the only time I’ve felt remotely sensual or alive.

  I refresh my email again, impatiently scanning the order status and resisting the urge to jab my fist in the air to celebrate that it’s almost here. After getting a beautiful red satin lingerie set stolen off my doorstep before I could get home from work, I get all my packages delivered to the office. It’s a must.

  I ordered a set that’s sheer stretch-tulle with a bralette made with slender ruffled straps, decorated with shimmery gold dots. From the online photo, it looks both whimsical and sultry. The set is flecked with glittering dots and the bottoms have a teardrop cutout on the back. Also, it was 50 percent off. Win!

  During lunch, swing by the package room to get my long-awaited set.

  It’s not there.

  I resist the urge to tear apart the package room looking for it. I must have gotten the delivery time wrong.

  I head back to my desk, checking my email again. I try to look productive in case Anna is lurking around the corner, but I know today is already a wash for me.

  My personal email says that the package was delivered.

  And now my work email shows an email from Mr. Price.

  My stomach drops to my feet as I click.

  The email is short and to the point. I was to report to his office for a meeting two minutes ago.

  My heart in my throat, I hurry to the isolated wing where his office is located. I’ve never even been over here, and it feels sacrilegious to step into his corridor.

  I smooth my blouse and skirt nervously until I can’t delay any longer.

  I don’t see why he would need to talk to me, not after Anna outlined a clear, well-thought strategy.

  Anxieties and worst-case scenarios whirl through my head. Does he personally fire people? God, is that it?

  I gulp as I knock at his door.

  I hear him bark, “Come in.” As my stomach alights with a swarm of a hundred swooping butterflies, I enter his domain.

  Five

  David

  Anna surprised me.

  She surprised me because she presented ideas that were clearly not hers.

  Anna is good at developing strategies that trim the fat. Her hallmark is stripping projects down to the bare bones to maximum profit. She’s brilliant at motivating people through fear. I see a kindred spirit in Anna in how she pushes people to excel.

  Making amends and taking accountability are not part of her work vocabulary.

  That was all Maribel.

  I watch Maribel curiously during the meeting.

  I see the moment when it dawns of her, that Anna is presenting all of Maribel’s strategies without acknowledging her input. Maribel freezes up and I see her giving up. I know she could be fighter, but she’s resigned to being in the background.

  I still the impulse to intervene.

  I’m already feeling too exposed, being in the room with Maribel.

  I know I haven’t done anything wrong.

  I’m not used to feeling vulnerable.

  But I wonder if I’m looking at Maribel too much.

  I want to intervene and put Anna on the spot, but I can see Maribel’s shoulders sink. She’s lost her spark.

  After the meeting, I’m stuck on phone calls with the Board. I announce my new strategy, of confronting the privacy issue and making amends. They don’t approve, of course. But I am going to do things my way. That’s how I do things.

  I feel more alive and energized at work than I have for months.

  When I finally have time to myself, I draft an email Maribel, requesting a meeting. I consider walking over to her desk, but I know that’s a bad idea. But I have to see her.

  Yesterday let all of my feelings for her rise to the surface.

  I’m intoxicated by her.

  I need more.

  I need her.

  I’m in a reckless place and I don’t care anymore.

  There’s a part of me that wants to approach this infatuation with my typical modus operandi with women.

  I could fuck her. I could have her. And then the spell will be broken. Soon enough I will tire of her machinations and attemp
ts to control me.

  What’s the other option? Pine for her? I’m used to taking charge. I’m used to being in control.

  She’s upset everything.

  I send the email to Maribel. I’m in my head, rationalizing why I need to meet with her. I see myself talking to her again, consulting with her, investigating how many of Anna’s ideas were hers, and getting her feedback about the new plan.

  But that’s not all of it.

  I want to see if she still holds a spell over him.

  I want to take her in, smell that sweet scent she uses, and get control over myself.

  I can’t go on like this.

  My head is filled with her.

  I need to be devoting all my attention to the health of my company, not her.

  Something has got to give.

  I need to see Maribel, now.

  Six

  Maribel

  I tentatively walk towards Mr. Price, my eyes fixated on his dark blue gaze. He is sitting down at his enormous desk. His face is emotionless, unless you count being handsome as an emotion. His face is so perfectly crafted that it gives no hint of the emotions lurking beneath the surface. He is cool, calm, and composed.

  I am a trembling mess. I’m all heated up and confused from the meeting earlier. And I’m confused about what he wants from me. Anna already laid out everything better than I could.

  I can’t believe I was worried about a misplaced package earlier. This meeting feels colossal.

  I stay silent. It’s better not to speak. I can’t interrupt this hushed silence with my nervous blabbering.

  I take in the enormous office, the floor to ceiling windows overlooking downtown San Francisco, the expensive looking couch, the bar filled with glass bottles, and the closed blinds which cast a dimmed, almost illicit ambience.

  My heart is hammering. I can feel my pulse thudding on the inside of my wrist.

  Up close, his presence is so powerful I feel weak in the knees. He is even more beautiful than I can process. I don’t know where to look – at his tousled hair, the slight lines bracketing his mouth and eyes accentuating his handsomeness, his strong jaw, or his full lips.