Chapter 11 Expectations
CHAPTER ELEVEN
expectations
MARK
This is the twentieth time I’ve opened the messages with Alice from yesterday, unsure of why I asked for her number and then spent hours texting with her.
It’s not a real thing. It’s a waste of precious time.
But now I’m staring at my phone when I should be concentrating on what’s in front of me.
I should kick off the board meeting with the steel focus I always do.
Exude stability.
Keep them calm.
The rustling of suits and rolling of chairs dies out, and I turn from the window and the view of the London Eye I was pretending to enjoy while staring at my phone.
Eleven pairs of eyes stare at me from around the glossy, deep green boardroom table.
I update them on financial performance first, knowing that’s what they care about the most. It’s the first board meeting I’ve been able to show a stable last quarter, and I receive the relieved nods I expected.
Next, I share the more qualitative (and not so positive) updates around post-Damian cultural impact and talent retention.
“Even with our new art director, staff surveys show high levels of uncertainty and lower engagement in his department. I’m positive this will improve as he settles in.
We’re still searching for the right creative director to own the design vision, so I’m keeping that under my remit.
” And I’m keeping it as it is. This is not the time to make big changes.
“What are you doing to turn this around?” Graham Freed, Chair of the Board and my business mentor of fourteen years, asks, rubbing his grey-bearded chin. “Your star developer went over to a competitor recently, I gather.”
“We have more than one star developer, but yes, one of our most highly recognised talents has taken the leap.” Joining the over twenty others since Damian’s downfall and exit.
There’s scattered throat-clearing and muffled muttering, but I cut them short, jumping to the next section of the agenda. “Our fifteen new talents have started and completed their induction week.”
“Did you get the person who developed Kitty Cat Bit? My wife loves that silly game,” the German business advisor adds, sharing a rare smile.
“Tolu Adesina, yes. They’ve moved from New York. We also got Kaia Saar from Estonia. She won the Global Game Code Jam two years ago when she was only twenty.”
There’s a ripple of excitement across the group, and I suppress a smile. I’m excited as well. We need fresh minds, the most brilliant of them, to stay relevant in this industry.
The buzzing of my phone on the table pulls me straight back to Saturday’s events. To Alice, and her sparkling eyes.
Her laugh.
The way the dimples grew deeper when she smiled as wide as her face would allow when she did that hilarious dance.
“Mark, did you hear that?” Graham’s booming voice cuts through the noise. “Are you okay?”
Did I miss something?
“Apologies, Graham, can you repeat that?”
Fuck, I did. I hate seeing that apprehension in Graham’s eyes. It reminds me too much of how he looked at Damian when he was spiralling in the end.
“Hana was saying something you ought to hear.” He gestures to the tweed-clad woman next to him; Choi Hana. One of our fiercest and most trusted advisors.
Hana clears her throat. “We’ve all read the blogs and the news articles, and we’re tired of seeing Damian’s name.
Let’s outshine the shadow he cast on Infinio with your successes.
We’re so grateful for your stable and consistent leadership.
I believe I speak for all of us when I say: thank you, Mark. ”
Everyone applauds, and an unwelcome trickle of sweat rolls down my back.
“Thank you, Hana. I appreciate that.” Although I can hear the not-so-subtle hint she baked into that compliment. And as much as I’d love to stop seeing Damian’s face in the news, I don’t want to see mine.
But this is the life I’ve chosen. And it’s my company.
Sacrifices will be required. My personal comfort-zone will have to be one of them for now.
Hana clears her throat again, and it’s obvious she has more to share.
“Fellow board members,” she says, looking around. “I need to add this item to the agenda, as our independent report has come back early. I trust you’ve all received it?”
Independent? I knew HR was snooping around, but what is she on about?
“I haven’t,” I say. “Should I?” She damned well knows I should have.
“My apologies, Mark. The report arrived this morning, and I thought it best to raise it now instead of waiting until next quarter’s board meeting.”
I grit my teeth, pushing down the anger rapidly rising. I’m being blindsided at my own fucking meeting.
If I didn’t feel my position was already under threat, I’d share with them all exactly what I think of this little stunt. I glance at my friend, Sebastian, whose dark eyes are wide. He didn’t know either?
“Over the last three months, we’ve had HR members and independent contractors review your leadership style in the absence of Damian.”
I narrow my eyes at her, waiting for her to continue.
“We were pleased with the investigation the police conducted, showing you had no involvement with or knowledge of Damian’s actions right under your nose. But we wanted to make sure we’re on the right track with you as the new CEO of the company.
“The report concludes that the staff feel safe with you as their leader,” she continues. “They confirm you keep a professional distance and only when called upon do you interact with the lower levels. This has doubtless been the right approach at this stage.”
She clears her throat again. Will someone offer her a fucking lozenge already?
“However, they’re scared of you. Your demeanour is strict, and you come across as highly demanding, bordering on unapproachable.”
“That’s probably an accurate assessment,” I say, leaning back in my chair. I don’t want people to approach me.
“Shall we try to find a middle ground between scaring the staff and fondling them?”
“Fondling?” I straighten up. “Damian was manipulative and toxic. He was downright dangerous to the staff’s wellbeing in more ways than one.
Are we really downplaying this?” I bristle.
“I know you all worshipped the ground he stood on, and we all mourn losing the creative genius, but I will not accept the board belittling his egregious actions against eight of our younger staff. Call a spade a spade; the man was an exploitative predator and bully.”
Hana nods once, holding eye-contact, while a murmur of ‘hear, hear’ breaks out.
I swallow hard, surprised at the emotion rising in me during that little outburst. There’s this pressure under my lungs. Making it hard to take a proper breath. Damian didn’t just hurt a number of our employees.
He hurt me.
He was one of my closest friends. Now he’s dead to me. The way he manipulated our employees, using the CEO role to his advantage. And he hid it so well. Or I didn’t notice. When did it even start?
Hana returns to her tablet. “The consultants recommended you become more involved in the creative department, where we’ve had the highest talent drain.”
“You seriously think my presence will help?”
“Yes, and become more approachable. Statistics show that people who feel visible will have higher engagement. The suggestion is that you move down from your tower suite into the midst of the daily ops and show people you’re involved.”
“I’m involved in everything. I live and breathe this place.”
“So let them see. And smile a little, will you? It said in the report that you’re a bit of a grouch.”
I bark out a laugh and receive a wide-eyed stare from Hana in return.
“There you go, your face-muscles work,” she says. “Use them.”
I return to my office as I always do after a board meeting.
In my calm, familiar space, I can think clearly.
I press the thick door shut, giving it the extra push it always needs, and switch on the recording on my notes app and start my ritual of walking back and forth, going over the meeting.
Not the content, but what I recall of the board members’ comments and reactions.
What the hell do I make of their reception of the report? Are the consultants right?
After today’s session, it seems I have one priority: become more visible.
Make that two priorities... Hana is not direct, but she’s clear. What she said was not a big fancy ‘thank you’.
It was a threat: only good news. Or else.
But I’m not Damian. I’m not selfish like him.
Although today I was distracted. I need to be careful so they don’t lose faith in me. It’s the worst time to have my world shaken by a force of beautiful nature.
Alice.
She made me laugh. Proper laugh.
People I meet, especially women, remain serious around me. Mirroring me. The Alice I met on Saturday was carefree. I felt light those hours I spent with her.
She filled me up and then took it with her, leaving this cavernous space I didn’t have before.
I want to hear her laugh. Thinking of us stumbling around in the ridiculous zorb ball makes me chuckle. I never had that much fun with Aiden’s zany activities before.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I’m jolted back to the office. It’s her.
Having a blast of a Monday morning so far?
I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s not half bad
Thinking of how to see you again
Wonder where she is during the day.
Let me know if there’s another costume party. I want to continue being Alice for a bit
Instead of returning to the board review, as I should, I let my intense want of seeing her again take over and call Aiden. He can tell me whether she’s going to Mesmeric Mystique, the sensory experience coming up.
He answers after the second ring. His familiar face fills the screen. The sweat beading on his forehead and trees in the background tell me I’ve interrupted his morning run.
“Mark, what’s up? Everything okay?”
“Hey, yes, sorry, I just need a favour. Sort of.”
I tell him about Alice. The short version, anyway. I’ve not unpacked it myself yet.
“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day. You’re calling me to ask for ideas so you can meet someone?”
His grin is too much.
“No, take it easy, will you?”
What do I want?
He wiggles his eyebrows at me, waiting for me to continue.
“Yes,” I admit, causing his face to split into that arrogant grin again. “I want to meet her again, but anonymously. Maybe at Mesmeric Mystique, so we can talk more.”
“Okay, let me get this straight,” he starts, and I know where this is going. “You, Mark Becker—workaholic, one of London’s top four under forty billionaires, who never cared about dating—are spending your valuable work time asking me how to talk to your anonymous friend again?”
Every word he utters pokes this bubble I’d put myself in since Saturday, and, by the end of his monologue, he’s successfully burst it.
“Fuck, you’re right. This is ridiculous. Never mind, forget I asked.”
“No, no. Hold on. This is fantastic!”
“No, it’s illogical and out of character. I need to get back to work. I’ve lost enough time already.”
I hang up and throw my phone onto the blue tweed couch.
“Fuck!”
“Mr Becker,” my assistant’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.
Taking a deep breath, I roll my shoulders and stretch my spine, letting a long breath out.
This isn’t just my job. This is my company. What I do affects everyone who works here. There’s no space or time for distractions.
I fight the aching void in my gut. It’ll pass.
“Yes, Patrice.”
She pushes the heavy door open and pokes her grey head through the crack. “I’ve received the actions from the board meeting. Shall I get IT to set up a second office for you downstairs?”
I rub my forehead. Life like a fish in an aquarium is imminent.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“May I suggest you get the walls frosted so you have some semblance of privacy? It’ll take a few days.”
Dropping my hand, I give her what I can muster of a smile. “You’re a mind-reader. Thank you, Patrice.”
She sends me that knowing smile of hers.
“Oh, and send me the org chart of the team, please,” I add. “I should at least learn their names if I am to invade their space.”
“Certainly, sir.” Patrice nods and leaves. The door doesn’t shut properly behind her, as always, and I’m about to close it when my phone vibrates on the couch, and my attention snaps to it. Alice.
I squeeze my eyes shut, doing my utmost to ignore the buzzing little devil machine.
Fuck, this is going to be a long week.