Page 12 of Alice and the Billionaire Boss

We exchange a smile, and he leaves the room.

I sit back for a moment, my smile fading. Somehow, he managed to sidestep the dating arena by knocking a girl up on a one-night stand and then having her turn up on his doorstep four months later, pregnant with his twins. I’m genuinely thrilled he’s found himself a girl he seems crazy about, but it’s impossible not to feel a touch of envy.

It’s been a few months since I had a woman in my bed, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss sex. I don’t miss the emotional turbulence that always seems to accompany dating, though. I wish I could jump to the four-month stage and have done with the getting-to-know-you part.

Sighing, I return my attention to the financial report, and I’m a good three-quarters through before I’m interrupted again by the phone on my desk ringing.

I check the display and see it’s an internal call—my younger brother, Damon.

I pick up the receiver and say, “Yo,” my standard, somewhat unprofessional greeting to my siblings.

“My office,” Damon states. “Now.”

I tuck the receiver under my chin as I turn the page over, frowning at his curt demand. “I’m in the middle of checking the financial report.”

“Dude,” he says. “You’re going to want to see this.” He hangs up.

Still frowning, I get up, poke my head in the office next door and tell my PA, Marion, where I’m going, then walk along the corridor and into his office.

Our rooms reflect our personalities and interests. Saxon’s is untidy, with his desk covered in sheets of paper and folders like the mad scientist he is. He’s a big fan of Dr. Who, and he has a framed poster on the wall of his favorite: the tenth doctor, and a TARDIS mug on the desk. He’s also into music, and he’s always playing one of his vinyl albums on his record player.

My office is much neater. I like space, and furniture with clean lines. Lack of clutter helps me think, and I always make sure to leave a clean sheet of white paper on the large drawing desk by the window so if I get a new idea, I can start it straight away. I also have framed posters on my wall, but mine are of old sci-fi movies.

People who don’t know Damon very well might expect him to have photos of fast cars or the All Blacks. He’s young and flash, and it’s true that he loves both of those things. But his offices bear beautiful oil paintings of Greek goddesses and angels in flowing white gowns with golden hair. Nobody ever guesses that he’s the artist.

When I walk in, I discover him pacing up and down. One glance at his face tells me he’s furious.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Shut the door,” he says.

I close it and come into the room. He gestures at his laptop and continues to pace. Puzzled, I go behind his desk, sit in his leather swivel chair, and look at what’s on the screen.

It’s an online article from a popular New Zealand news site, dated to just fifteen minutes ago. The headline is ‘Wellington companies to close multi-million deal for revolutionary software.’

I read the article with growing disbelief.

“A senior member of staff at the computer software company, Kingpinz Robotics, revealed today that the company is on the verge of selling a revolutionary text-to-speech software called MOTHER to computer hardware company Sunrise Ltd. for the production an augmentative and alternative communication or AAC device, in a deal rumored to be over ten million dollars. Directors at Sunrise have been battling rumors of pay cuts and problematic working conditions for the past few months, and the acquisition of this software is a huge coup for them.”

Slowly I lift my gaze to Damon. “What the fuck?”

He lifts his hands in bemusement, then puts them on his hips.

MOTHER is my baby, and I’ve been working on it for years, using our cousin Titus’s AI program to completely revolutionize text-to-speech software for use in for an augmentative and alternative communication or AAC device for people who can’t speak—either because they have a condition such as ALS, motor neurone disease, or cerebral palsy, or because they’ve had a stroke or a traumatic brain injury. I chose the name MOTHER because it refers to the phrase ‘mother tongue,’ and also because we’re all fans of the movieAlien, in which the computer is called Mother.

Our senior leadership team or SLT at Kingpinz consists of five members, including me, Saxon, and Damon. I met the fourth member, Craig Worthington, at university. He’s a talented computer engineer, and a good friend. When Saxon, Damon, and I decided we were going to set up our own company, we were quick to ask Craig to join us, and he’s been with us ever since. The fifth member, Marama Taylor, joined the company four years ago, and we promoted her to the team in June. She’s married to a member of the Maori All Blacks and they have two kids. She’s also an excellent software engineer, and she’s slotted into the team nicely.

At our monthly meeting in November, for the first time we discussed which company we were going to sell MOTHER to for production of the AAC device. Saxon and I favored a company called Genica Inc., mainly because we’ve worked with its CEO, Jack Evans, before, and we get on well. Craig then put forward Sunrise Ltd. as a possibility, speaking at great length about the CEO’s commitment to producing advanced medical equipment. His enthusiasm rubbed off on Marama, who was leaning toward them as an option. Damon was on the fence.

I gave Sunrise some serious thought, but I was uncomfortable about the rumors of pay cuts and working conditions, and I also didn’t mention to Craig that I don’t like Sunrise’s CEO, Renée Garnier. I met her recently at the hospital at a health professionals meeting. She was brash, forceful, and overconfident, and when one of the doctors mentioned the CEO of another one of Renée’s competitors, she mimicked his speech impediment, which made me dislike her even more.

Last week, I spoke to Damon again, voicing my reservations about Sunrise, and in the end he voted for Genica Inc. That made us three to two, and just a couple of days ago I had a preliminary meeting with Jack Evans to talk about his vision for the AAC device. He’s going to read this article, which is going to make me look like an unprofessional idiot. I’m so angry, I can barely speak.

“Looks as if someone wanted to force your hand,” Damon says. “I wonder who that could be?”

I already know it wasn’t Marama. She’s a sweetheart, and she’d never do something like this. Craig is my best friend, but he can be ruthless and cutthroat in business. Shocked that he’d extend that work ethic to me, though, I walk out and along the corridor to the next office, and stand in the doorway.

Craig is the same age as me, a little shorter and stockier, with dark-blond hair. He’s smart, witty, and hardworking. We used to go out socially with him a lot; less so since he got married and had a baby, but we’re still good friends. Or I thought we were, anyway.

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