"Great," I answered first, trying to give Dee a second to compose herself.
"Yes, great," she echoed, her voice a little too high-pitched.
Veronica nodded her head. "I trust you had a good team-building experience? Strengthened your camaraderie?"
As Veronica stared at her, Dee coughed, like the very air we breathed was choking her. "Oh, definitely," she finally managed to say.
"Yes, yes, I agree. Couldn't be more, uh, close-knit now."
Veronica's gaze flicked back and forth between us. "Good. That's what I like to hear. Keep up the tight work, you two."
"Yep. Very tight," I said, not able to help myself.
A pink-cheeked Dee gulped down some water while I did my best to suppress a smile.
"And how are things with Venus?" Veronica asked. "Any word?"
"No," Dee said, "nothing's changed... yet. But we have a few things we're working on to try to woo her. Just waiting to hear back."
At her words, dread filled me because I realized I'd fucked up. Royally.
"Okay, well, keep me posted," Veronica said, a hint of disappointment in her voice, before turning to leave.
Cordelia whirled on me. "Fucking Max Sterling," she rage whispered. "I knew we couldn't rely on him. Asshole couldn't even be bothered to write us back."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Maybe he didn't even see our email, though. I'm sure everything goes through assistants who deem whether or not it's worthy of passing on to him."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, precious CEO in his penthouse office who can't even check his own emails. I knew we shouldn't have ever asked him anything. He's the last person in the world we can rely on for a favor."
God, that stung. So I'd forgotten about it in the excitement of the retreat. But I truly had every intention of replying that I'd be happy to send that painting to its rightful owner. And Iwouldactually do it as soon as possible. I just needed a minute to write my assistant to put it all in motion.
"He might still come through," I said. "These things take time, and he's a busy guy, I'm sure."
Dee snorted. "Yeah, busywhat, exactly? Busy taking everyone else's money and stomping all over regular people along the way. Busy sitting in some luxury boardroom playing golf on the roof while everyone else is drowning in work..."
I winced thinking of my rooftop putting green, but Dee was just getting started.
"Or maybe he's busy on some yacht right now, sipping champagne while his assistants do all the work and kiss his ass while doing it.Oh, Max, you're such a genius. You're so brilliant."
"Maybe he—" I began but she quickly cut me off.
"CEOs are all the same. Greedy, greedy, greedy, with egos the size of the sun. And ridiculous car collections. And private jets named after themselves. And all that when they don't actually really do anything except sign checks and give themselves raises."
"Maybe he—" I tried again with the same exact result.
"Well,fuck you, Max Sterling. Sometimes if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."
And with that, she slammed her hand on her desk and pounded away on her keyboard, leaving me reeling at just how much hate she harbored for the real me.
"Uh, what are you doing, Dee?" I asked, wondering if I, or rather my assistant, was about to receive a scathing email.
"Ordering art supplies," she huffed.
"Art supplies?"
"Yep. I'm going to make my own damn painting of Freddie."