Page 18 of Handling the CEO

“Just wanted to see how you are settling in… I know the IT department is a bit… dark,” she comments, looking around, cringing. “I thought you would be upstairs in one of the touch-down areas—you don’t need to stay here. We got desks next to windows, too.”

It is literally a murky cave basement, with a few desks with triple screens, a sofa and a table with mismatched chairs, probably the ones left over from the past couple of office refurbs. The walls have science fiction movie posters and some rude comments written in marker all over them, and the fridge contains mostly energy drinks and chocolate, only slightly out of date.

I

Fucking

Love it!

—but will never admit it. Maybe I will bring my team in some time. They will love it here as well. Maybe we can do a little DOTA Lan-party.

“Yes, it is a tad gloomy but helps me focus,” I respond neutrally. “Can I help you with anything else?”

“If you could, there is a little thing—Jon reminded me we need to represent the company at the Observer’s charity luncheon this Saturday. You know, the money goes to local wildlife and there will be a lot of press and lots of nearby companies will send representatives.”

I look at Michaela’s lively demeanor—and think this lady is pretty slick, cheerful façade and all. She is definitely rocking that metallic silver pantsuit she has on.

“So I hear,” I deadpan. “Is there a question somewhere in there?”

“I was wondering if you would like to take my place. I am throwing my son a party for his return from New York—he finished his Master’s at Columbia after transferring over from Boulder.” She ignores my attempt at needling her and continues her happy-go-lucky attitude.

“Me? What does Mr. McMaster think about me coming along?” I counter, raising an eyebrow as we both know Jon doesn’t have a clue I am being asked to attend.

“Probably it’s best we don’t tell him. Normally, he wouldn’t need any support to shake hands with local CEOs and press. But the reason I want you to go is that you can handle him, and knowing that Miranda will be there, he needs backup—and someone to drag him back from possible murder.”

“Handle him? I am not sure if he can handle ME!” I add, but I purse my lips and ponder about the offer.

Hearing Miranda will attend makes me think that Richard will show as he can’t stop himself from kissing ass at events. Unbalancing the son of a bitch—and another foolish man I know—strikes me as a fan-freaking-tastic way of spending my Saturday. I definitely want to go. However, before I accept, I take the opportunity to ask a few questions of my own. The ‘Man of the day’ had too few words to say regarding his history with Lex Aviation and what I see as more personal reasoning, his grudge against his rival.

“You have been here at McAv for a while?” I start by making some polite conversation to not spook Ms. Jones here.

“Oh, I have been working here for like 30 years! I was Dave’s secretary—as was the job name back then, none of this executive assistant mumbo jumbo. Jon’s father saw something more in me and I got a chance to work with contracts. Slowly, I got promoted to this VP position about 17 years ago, unfortunately just a couple of years later, Dave passed away.” She sighs and all I can think is—has this lady been a Vice president for that long?

But then it occurs to me she is essentially Jon’s second in command and there is nowhere else up for her to go and seems to be quite contended in her position.

“That is a long time in the company.”

“Ah, this business is basically my life! I do not imagine working anywhere else. I know every nook and cranny! Oh, Dahlia—the stories I could tell!” She winks at me between the ohs and the ahs.

“I could definitely listen to a specific story—Miranda Lexington.” I narrow my eyes at her.

Mike blanches a bit, all cheeriness gone, then sits down and looks behind her back as if we are in a spy movie.

“Not sure how much Jon told you, I’d rather not gossip,” she whispers, continuing the ‘cloak and dagger’ vibe. But I wasn’t born yesterday either—she yearns to chitchat but needs some sort of permission, it seems.

“He mentioned me she was married to his father,” I match her hushed voice, but do not explain that is all I know from the grunting bear.

“Oh, OK you know that!” The relief in her voice is clear. “Well, they were married for about a year and a bit before Dave passed away. I believed she was not in the will, but she got off with a few million. As it appears, Dave changed his will last minute to include her. Jon got the company. She left with all that money, then she met another billionaire—Ramsay Lexington. From what I hear, she persuaded him to go into aviation and he named her CEO! She still has some sort of grudge against her former stepson, and she has been spending a lot of time and energy trying to steal our contracts and suppliers.”

That clarifies a bit why Jon hates her, as I suspect he was also not expecting his father’s trophy wife to get that much money.

“So, have you been by his side since he took over? Was he also a VP when his dad passed?”

“Jon? Lord no! He had no interest in McAv. Well, more than tinkering with those planes in the hangar—he spent his youth gallivanting through Europe, doing extreme sports and whatnot. I think he was shocked to get the company, but his father always thought he was his heir.”

“Hmm,” I grunt, as I sense something here. “Did Miranda expect to inherit the firm? McAv is worth billions.”

The silver-haired woman is quiet for a bit, eyes moving away from me. If we had a working window down here, I suspect she would have looked out through it, avoiding the answer.

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