Page 137 of The Grumpy Billionaire

Lola goes over and whispers something to Wulfric. He blusters some more and finally sits down.

Everybody’s looking at the box as Hugo rambles on. It’s obviously strange to have brought a large box and three assistants.

Hugo goes on to talk about the previous data model’s limitations and the need for a next-gen version. Wulfric follows along with intense interest as Hugo discusses the goals of his new model, throwing out phrases like “stochastic volatility framework” and “elastic net regression.”

I’m glad Lola hasn’t needed me yet. I don’t know how she’s getting it down, but she’s a strangely capable human being.

Hugo’s going on about extreme market scenarios and disruptive potential now. He seems to be laying the groundwork, building up to whatever next-gen thing he’s about to reveal.

Wulfric’s so excited, he looks like he’s going to float to the ceiling. “Everybody! Hugo needs absolute silence!”

Hugo strolls to the table. He looks over at me. Our eyes meet.

My pulse begins to pound as I recall our jokey conversation. The garbage zero sculpture. The pineapple-eating.

No, I think.No way.

He smiles, as if reading my thoughts, and lifts the box off the table to reveal a cutting board with a knife and a partly cut-up pineapple on it.

Gasps go up around the room.

My jaw drops to the floor.

Wulfric stands. “Hugo! What are you doing?”

“Demonstrating the new data model.” Hugo sits down in the chair and, cool as a cucumber, he tucks a napkin into his collar.

“What the hell?” Wulfric charges the front, but one of the burly guys blocks him.

People stand, whispering furiously.

“Hugo—no! It’s not worth it!” Wulfric’s trying to get around the guy, who seems to be using every wrestling move known to humankind to stop him. Another of the guys joins in, and the two of them manage to hold a furious Wulfric back.

“Somebody get that fucking pineapple away from him!” Wulfric shouts. “If it’s an extension on the deadline you need, you can have it!”

Lola turns to me. “Why aren’t you stopping him?”

“He’s not allergic,” I whisper. “He can eat pineapple.”

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Excuse me? He was faking his allergy?”

I shrug. “Yes?”

People are trying to get up there, but Hugo’s guys are very effective.

He picks up a slice of pineapple and takes a bite. Utter mayhem breaks out.

“The pineapple might not kill him, but Wulfric will,” Lola says.

“Hugo, stop!” Wulfric struggles to get free of the two men. “For fuck’s sake, somebody stop him!”

People are shouting and trying to get to him. Somebody yells to call 911.

One of the analysts manages to get behind the guards and up to Hugo’s table. He rips the fruit from Hugo’s hand, but Hugo’s already eaten a great deal of pineapple.

“My god, what have you done?” Wulfric bellows, still struggling to get free.

Hugo wipes his mouth and sets the napkin down on the table. “Questions?”

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