“The two of you should meet soon,” he says. “I told him about you last night.”
Last night?I stop myself from asking why and clear my throat instead.
“Anyway, you did good work this morning.” This is the first time I’ve seen him smirk. He’s quite handsome. “You’re the gift that keeps on giving. And listen, I know you weren't hired to perform maintenance on our systems. But we needed you in this capacity at least for a couple of days. You saved us from having to call a licensed GIT Killer Firewall specialist. I don't know if you heard about it, but there's a rift between our two companies.” He taps the desk twice. “But now, I want to talk about the real work—development—because we're getting our asses handed to us by GIT. They’re fucking draconian.”
The hate in his eyes sends chills down my spine. However, I’m thankful that he didn’t wait for me to confirm whether or not I was aware of the tension between the Groves and the Valentines. At least that’s one lie I didn’t have to tell.
I swallow hard and then fake a smile. “I’m all ears.”
I listen attentively as he reads down a list of new products that the company wants to bring to market. It's a long and arduous list. And if I were to put my Max hat on, the only advice I’d have for him would be to scrap everything on that sheet of paper.
Mason raises his thick eyebrows. This is the longest I've ever looked at his face straight on. He's thirty-two years old. I know this because I learned a lot about him before I started the job. I also know he’s single and lives in a three-bedroom brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. His clean-cut appearance is very Clark Kent, which means he’s extremely attractive. I bet he doesn't realize Lake has a crush on him. I can't see him turning her down if he perceived she liked him.
Mason’s eyebrows turn quizzical. “What is it?”
I sense my probing gaze has made him feel uncomfortable. Separate from assessing his appearance, I’ve been wondering how to contribute to VTI’s bottom line without crossing GIT. But I'm here to do my job, and I never do anything shabbily.
“You're going about it all wrong,” I say.
I recognize his frown. He's a little uncomfortable with criticism. “And how is that?”
“You have a lot of new products, but none of them are notable.”
He readjusts in his seat, giving me his full attention as he strokes his chin. “Keep talking.”
“Well, if you don’t think big, you can’t grow big.” That’s what my grandfather used to say.
His mouth is caught open, and I take the look on his face as a sign that he wants me to say more.
“The thing is, it costs a lot of money to bring a new product to market, and it's always a gamble. GIT is our competitor. The fastest way to bridge the gap between us is to take something you do very well and make it better. Make it distinctive.”That’s how Grandfather made his fortune.
Mason shifts abruptly in his seat and then rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I see—”
I'm on the verge of going too far by strengthening our competitor’s position in the marketplace. “VTI’s products extend from video-game apps to VSC chips that work with DVR technology. Let’s figure out how to take what we have and make it bigger, or get rid of the baggage and start over.”
He slowly narrows his eyes as he stares right through me. He’s obviously thinking. And then he abruptly reaches out and taps a button on his desk phone. It rings.
“Hey, Herc. It's me, Mason.”
Suddenly, I feel like I’m being squeezed by a straitjacket.Is “Herc” who I think he is?
“Mason, what’s going on?” Hercules sounds so short.
I thought he was out of the country. Can people who are out of the country be reached with a one-button dial from an office phone?
“I’m joined by Lark Davenport, our new Jeff. I'll let her tell you what she just told me.” He nods at me.Go. Say something, Paisley.
Beads of sweat break out on my forehead, and I’m struggling to not hyperventilate or tear up. It feels so wrong and yet so right to be in Hercules Valentine’s universe yet again. I want so badly to confess my true identity—but I know I can’t.
“The beginning?” I chirp.
“Yeah, the part about thinking big.”
“You mean, if you don’t think big, you can’t grow big?”
“You called to recite a mantra?” Hercules grouses.
Mason throws his hands up as if Hercules were in the room to see the gesture. “Hold on, Herc.” He nods at me. “Give him the rest. I don’t want the big boss to think your ideas are mine.” He winks at me.
