Page 45 of Cocky Tech God

An hour later we had demolished my dinner and were on our last glasses of the white wine. I appreciated the distraction that Hansen gave me as we discussed the conference, but I needed to get back to work. I’d waited for notifications but hadn’t heard any come through. So, I assumed my team was still working on the breach. But they needed my eyes on it. After all, I’d created the code.

“You keep looking back at your cell,” Hansen said, setting his wine glass on the coffee table. “Are you expecting a call?”

“It’s just work stuff.” I put my glass down, too, because I just didn’t want to finish it. I wanted to get back to work.

The pause was long, and I wouldn’t have noticed it, but Hansen’s demeanor changed too. For the first time, I couldn’t read him.

Finally, he spoke. “I know.”

A warm wave moved through me. I suddenly felt completely exposed. And not in a way I wanted to be.

“You know what exactly?”

He paused and repositioned himself to the farther point of the couch from me. “About LMS. I know you’re in trouble.”

The blood drained from my face, and I suddenly felt cold. I stood. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I overheard you on the beach. Your breach and you’re in the red.”

Anger ravaged me. “Were you spying on me?”

“No…” He stood, though didn’t make a move to come near me. “I went looking for you because it seemed very unusual for you to miss the Morgan Financial Holdings’ spotlight.”

“Right.” The word was an accusation from my lips.

I turned to face the doors of the Juliet balcony, blood roaring between my ears. Oh God. I realized what that look was. Pity. Hansen pitied me. Screw this. I stormed into the bathroom and changed back into my librarian outfit. I didn’t want to be in this room for another second. When I was done, I grabbed my iPad and cell phone; Hansen watched me the whole time.

“Let me help you, Lucia.” He was on my heels then as I walked across the room. He continued, “Lucia, I care about you and LMS. I don’t want to see you go under. Please, let me try to help.”

I stopped in my tracks but didn’t turn to face him. He had no right to say any of that to me. But I couldn’t find the words to articulate how I felt about Hansen knowing the truth. I didn’t know what I felt about it—him caring about me and him wanting to help. And so, I took another step, and another, until I was opening the door, leaving Hansen and the feelings I’d started to have for him behind. Because if he asked to help me again, I’m not sure what I would say.

Part of me knew that I’d fallen so hard for him that I’d probably accept.

Hansen

Lucia was gone. I had no idea where she went, and I wasn’t going to find her. It wasn’t my place. And she made it clear that she didn’t need or want my help. I pondered on this issue. Being an entrepreneur for as long as I had, I knew firsthand how important it was to know how to ask for help, to know when you needed help. A company doesn’t survive alone. Many people contribute to the success, not just the owner/CEO.

The thought of her and her team going through this made my heart wrench. Especially when the crisis could very well end in cessation of the business. I shook my head. God, there was nothing I could do.

It had been an hour since she took off, and I needed another drink. The white wine bottle was dry as a bone. With Lucia on my mind, I got presentable and went down to the hotel bar.

Wednesday’s events were still in full swing. And I should have known better than to reappear after a couple hours away, because I walked right into a mob of techies who wanted my time. I lied to them. I said I was on the way to a meeting and encouraged them to direct message me on social media and I would get back to them as soon as I could. The second part wasn’t a lie. I would get back to them, but the only thing I wanted to do now was to have a good vodka on ice.

At the same bar that Lucia and I shared a drink upon arrival in Grand Cayman, I sliced through the crowd toward the single empty stool. The bartender who’d come to recognize me and my drink choice acknowledged me with a nod of his head. I was a regular. I nodded back and sat, taking one glance around the room. Never had I ever seen the conference with this many attendees. It was record-breaking, and very good for the organization’s finances. I had been on the board of the conference for the last five years, so I’d seen it grow. As soon as a spot opened, I wanted to nominate Lucia for the open seat. If she was still in business, that is.

“Oh, darling, we really must stop meeting like this, or people might get the wrong idea. Again.” Her voice was close against my ear. The French perfume gave her away.

“Calista, I can’t help people’s ideas, can I?” I turned my face to see her.

She moved to the empty stool next to me. Someone had been leaning on it but moved when she sat. “You look tragic, Hansen. What is it?”

The bartender set my glass in front of me. I gave him a thumbs up, and I took too long to acknowledge what Calista had said. Was I tragic looking? Could everyone at the conference see how affected I was by Lucia? Could they see how my feelings were putting me in a gray area that I didn’t know how to manage?

“Oh, yeah, you’re fucked.” Calista laughed, though not before apologizing for her bluntness.

I drank, almost the whole thing.

She tapped me on the arm, and said, “This can’t be about the Holte empire, so I’m taking a guess and saying it’s about a bird.”

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