Chapter 4 Schadenfreude
SCHADENFREUDE
Tenure at Apex?
Cole: Board member Ned Stone hired me last December.
Bridget: I came on as a junior marketing manager at age twenty-five, and I rose through a series of promotions to chief operating officer at age thirty-eight.
COLE
“Time for our meeting.”
Even before we’d started sharing a job and an office, I’d hated that sentence more than any other Bridget uttered.
Not only were meetings a waste of time in general, but meetings with Bridget, specifically, were challenging.
With everyone else at Apex, it was easy to flip on my charm.
After a few minutes of shooting the shit and asking about their wife/husband/kids/pets/sports team, we’d get down to business.
I’d present what I wanted as a win for them, then we’d move forward, often with the other person agreeing to do most of the work.
Not Bridget.
She asked questions. She wanted concessions.
Annoyingly, she demanded that we divide the work equally.
And she didn’t consider strategic thinking work.
If it didn’t have a concrete deliverable, one she could touch or at least read on her screen with those irritatingly adorable reading glasses, it didn’t count.
She had an unconscious sex appeal I couldn’t ignore.
If we’d met at a bar or the gym, anywhere but in my workplace, I’d have flirted her number out of her and actually called her the next day for a chance at taking her home and kissing those sweet berry-red lips.
But we worked together, which meant she was off limits.
I was a natural risk taker, but workplace affairs had too much chance of going off the rails and ending up with someone fired.
Yet at our first meeting, she’d walked into my office with those sky-high heels and a welcoming smile, her dark hair scraped back into a low knot at her nape, revealing pale skin, oversized blue-green eyes, and a heart-shaped face.
I’d been tempted to break my rule. Next to me, she looked like a fairy princess, ready to flit off through the window to sprinkle magic onto the streets of San Francisco.
Then she’d opened her mouth to make a smart observation about the business, and the gorgeous firecracker had struck me speechless.
I was never speechless, so I knew I was in trouble.
I glared across the ugly brocade carpet John had left behind. “We share an office. Do we really have to schedule meetings together?”
Her smile was pure evil, like the hot pepper ice cream one of my former fraternity brothers dared me to try in Manila.
Sweet and spicy, but I knew I’d pay for it later.
“Scheduling a meeting is the only way I can guarantee the time is blocked on your calendar and you’re not off bothering some other department to do your bidding. I have something to discuss with you.”
“Fine.” I saved the email I was composing to my contact at Brassbound and lifted my hands from my keyboard. “What’s up?”
“Come sit.” She indicated John’s low guest chairs in front of his old desk where she reigned like a queen.
“No, thanks.” I’d sat there too many times with my knees practically tucked under my chin.
“I’m not going to shout across the office.”
“Neutral ground?” I pointed at the two club chairs between my desk and the door. When John was here, the arrangement had included a coffee table, two end tables, a vase of fussy flowers, and a small sofa. But when I’d moved my desk in, all but the chairs and a side table had to go.
“All right.” It surprised me when she descended from the chair-and-footstool setup she thought was a secret.
Up there, she seemed as big as me with her strident voice, confident ideas, and upright posture.
But when she walked across the carpet, she appeared exactly as she was, five-foot-nothing, despite her towering heels and larger-than-life personality.
I could’ve easily deadlifted two of her.
I met her in the seating area, waited for her to sit, and took the other chair.
She wore pants today, and when she shifted to face me, she drew up one leg under her and left the other to dangle.
She wore my second-favorite shoes, the black heels with the strap across the top that gave slutty teacher vibes.
Breathing through my nose, I stared at the ceiling.
Although she was older than me, Bridget wasn’t my teacher, and I had no business fantasizing about what her goddamn heels might feel like stabbing into my back.
Bridget was one hundred percent business, and I needed to bring my A game.
I cleared my throat. “What are we meeting about?”
She leaned forward. “I have a proposal.”
I blinked up from the hint of cleavage her silky blue blouse revealed to meet her gaze. “Go on.”
“I’d like to schedule a tour of the other facilities to introduce ourselves, get to know the people there, and listen to their ideas and concerns.”
“A tour? You mean a roadshow, like in the 1900s?”
Pursing her lips, she nodded.
“No one wants that,” I said. Especially not me, since it’ll disrupt my custody schedule.
I couldn’t afford that while I was trying to show I was fit for more time with Caitlyn.
“We can accomplish the same goals through videoconferencing. In fact, we’ve got a global town hall meeting next week.
Employees are submitting their questions as we speak, and corporate communications is preparing our responses. ”
“A town hall or a videoconference isn’t the same as being physically in the same location, having a meal together, and seeing people where they live. We need to do this. I need to do this, anyway. You can do what you want.” She shrugged a careless shoulder.
Bridget had charm too, though since I’d decimated that first budget proposal, she hadn’t tried to use it on me. She’d use her trip to form a cabal against me. Some of those offices might have genuine power. No way was I letting her visit them without me.
“So you’re proposing travel to Houston and New York?” That wouldn’t be so bad. We could spend a couple days in each city, and I wouldn’t have to ask Zara to swap out my weekend or disappoint Caitlyn.
“And San José.”
I leaned back. “San Jose is barely an hour away. We can knock that one out next week.”
“Not San Jose, California. San José, Costa Rica.”
“We have an office in Costa Rica?”
Her eyes weren’t so pretty when she rolled them. “We’ve built a team of highly qualified tech workers there. They handle our data center operations.”
“Ah. About that.”
She raised her eyebrows, challenging me. “My specialty is operations, including our data centers.”
“Yes, but I have a contact at Brassbound IT Services.” One of my fraternity brothers had started Brassbound, and he’d partnered with some of his Indian relatives to build the international business. “They can do it much more cheaply with their teams in India.”
“They can.” Her voice was flat.
I leaned forward. “My specialty is finance.”
“But they don’t know our systems the way our San José team does. How much time and money would we waste training them?”
“It…” Fuck, I hadn’t thought of that. “Over the life of the contract, it would be negligible.”
“Negligible?” There was a challenging tilt to her chin. “Why don’t you leave the operations to me? I’ll let you know when I need an assist.”
I gritted my teeth. “This is clearly a financial decision. Which I’ve already made.”
“You…what?” There was an almost musical ascent and crescendo to her voice. She’d barreled straight through her phone-call loudness to a volume more suitable for jeering the opposing team at Levi’s Stadium.
“I inked the deal yesterday. It’s done.” It wasn’t exactly done. Legal had insisted on Bridget’s signature too. I had it on my desk to get her to sign at the right moment.
This wasn’t it.
She jumped out of the chair. Standing, she was taller than me by only half a head. “You can’t do that! We’re co-CEOs. We both have to sign contracts!”
That’s what legal had said too, and it pissed me off. Deliberately, I rose until I towered over her. “John signed contracts alone. We should each have signature authority.”
She planted her fists on her slender hips. Having to crane her neck to look up at me seemed to make her madder. Her cheeks were stained as red as her lips. “You don’t have the authority to sign a goddamn contract without consulting me!”
The office door opened, and Stan Bellic, our human resources vice president, stepped in.
Glancing at Bridget’s flushed face, he said, “Let’s keep our voices down, shall we?
” He shut the door and strode between us, forcing Bridget to step back.
“And watch your language, Bridget. The entire floor could hear you.”
“What?” Clearly, she had to replay what she’d said. Actually, what she’d said was pretty mild. John had a reputation as a screamer, plus he dropped F-bombs like they were rose petals at a wedding.
The redness seeped down her chest. “Sorry, Stan.”
“I warned you Monday that we couldn’t have you arguing like this. You’re co-CEOs, not my nine-year-old twins.” He chuckled.
Behind Stan’s back, I crossed my arms and smirked. Maybe I was secretly a nine-year-old, but I was exhilarated not to be the one yelled at this time. She didn’t take the bait. She let out a fake laugh to mirror Stan’s. “Got it. I promise, I won’t raise my voice again.”
“Not good enough. My office. Right now.”
My chuckle was real. Schadenfreude, honey.
“Both of you,” he said, whirling to face me.
That wiped the smirk right off my lips.