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“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” I announce as soon as I have them all on my screen. I clear my throat as the board members gaze at me in terse silence.
“I presume you want to speak to me about the news,” I begin slowly. The board members remain quiet, staring at the screen.
“Granted, it is unusual for the CEO of a company to protest the actions of his own firm, but the circumstances have called for drastic action.”
The board continues glaring at me.
“As you are aware, I’ve been advocating for Sanders International to adopt green practices over the past months. By making it known that I stand against the current state of this pipeline, we can sway the public opinion in our favor,” I say, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“After hearing the concerns of the protesters, I urge you one last time to view this as an opportunity for Sanders International to embrace environmentally friendly practices. We can redesign the construction techniques, utilizing eco-friendly materials in the manufacturing of these pipes. By doing so, we will not only preserve the land through which the pipeline traverses but also minimize, if not entirely eliminate, exposure to harmful chemicals.”
The board members mumble in hushed tones. This is turning out much better than I anticipated. I have put them in front of afait accompli, forcing them to take corrective action.
They voice their discontent, but they are all aware that they will ultimately have to consider my suggestion. They agree to adjourn and reconvene in two days.
For now, it seems that I still have a job.
I can only hope that Ana retains hers as well.
CHAPTER13
ANA
Flustered and agitated,I pace back and forth in my room, desperately trying to calm my nerves before facing my best friend. My mind is in disarray from Brando's unexpected kiss. A kiss that I have secretly fantasized about countless times, yet it proved to be even more intoxicating than I could have ever imagined. Although I had daydreamed about being with him, the idea of him being interested in me seemed far-fetched.
Slipping on a cardigan over my sundress, I meet Race in the kitchen, as I lament, “How can I walk into the office and face him on Monday? I was already a bundle of nerves when he joined us at the protest. But for him to kiss me? And now this!” I shake the weighty Sunday edition ofthe New York Timesin front of Race's face, desperately trying to prevent a full-blown meltdown. Scattered across the kitchen table are other newspapers and tabloids adorned with pictures of Brando and me.
“Girl, y’all are going to be in the paper until this blows over!”
Race draws my attention to the newspapers as I examine them more closely. Every Sunday morning, Race picks up all the big newspapers, enjoying their gossip, fashion, and society pages. While I expected the local newspapers to feature pictures from the protest, I hadn't fully considered the extent of Brando's prominence until I saw the bold headlines about him in stark black and white.
“‘Playboy Philanthropist Protests His Own Company’has a nice ring to it!” Race cackles.
“Race, this is not funny!” I snap anxiously. “As his assistant, they are putting me under the microscope, too! Did youreadthe article? They know that Sanders International bought my building, and they are saying that I am trying to take down the company from within!”
“I know what you are trying to take down, and it is within the company. I am talking about the man behind the business. Mr. GQ himself,” Race ribs pointedly. “And by take down, I mean you want to take down his pa—”
“Race, do not even finish that thought!”
Throughout the rest of the day, I continue to obsess over Brando's kiss incessantly. But I am well aware that his kisses won’t pay my bills.
I must maintain professionalism and firmly remind Brando that we cannot pursue this further.
After all, he is my boss.
* * *
On Monday morning,I slowly welcome the new day, aware that I will have to face Brando. I ponder how to behave toward him while enjoying my morning coffee with Race. Before, we used to hang out at my shop, but since I had to close it, we discovered another local place on my way to work. We read the daily newspapers on our phones and savor our non-dairy cappuccinos.
“Girl, something has been bothering you all week, even before this fiasco of a protest. Spill the beans!” Race urges me, prompting us to put our phones away. With Brando and I still plastered all over the internet, I wish I could book a flight to Australia and hide until the storm clears. A New York scandal wouldn't raise an eyebrow down under.
Finally giving in to my best friend's insistence, I confess my growing feelings for Brando. “What should I do?”
“Do what your heart desires.” He shrugs. “You deserve to be loved as much as you love yourself.”
“Right now, my heart wants me to keep my job because love doesn't pay the bills,” I point out.
“Did you just admit to love?” Race smirks, lifting his cup and accidentally spilling some of his cappuccino.
