“A present? For me?”
“You’ve said you were having issues with writer’s block, so I did some research and put together a list of ways to overcome the block.” He handed me the folder. “I confirmed with several neuroscientists that these methods are scientifically sound.”
I nearly choked on my freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. “You consulted with a team of neuroscientists about my writer’s block?”
He shrugged. “I donate a significant sum to various scientific organizations every year. As such, they’re happy to indulge some of my more personal requests.”
I opened the folder and scanned the suggestions. Most of it was advice I already knew from trawling the web. Meditating, setting aside a block of time every day for creative play, using the Pomodoro technique, so on and so forth. There were a few I hadn’t seen before, but it wouldn’t matter if Kai had handed me a packet of introductory yoga class flyers.
He’d taken the time to research solutions and consult neuroscientists, for Christ’s sake. My previous boyfriends thought they were doing me a favor when they picked up pizza on their way to my house.
The last time someone did something so thoughtful without expecting anything in return was when a certain billionaire showed me his family’s secret room and offered it as a writing space.
My throat constricted with emotion. I dipped my head and blinked back an embarrassing sting. The last thing I wanted was to start bawling over my crab and rice. I’d already cried once in front of Kai this week; twice would be overkill.
I flipped the pages noisily while I wrangled my runaway emotions. The pressure in my throat eased as I stopped on the second to last item.
“Engage in frequent and rigorous sexual activity when feeling stuck,” I read aloud. “Orgasms stimulate creativity, among other things.” I slanted a suspicious look at Kai, who returned it with an innocent one of his own. “Huh. I wonder who came up with that one.”
His grin spread as slow and molten as warm honey. “No need to wonder. It’s scientifically proven, my love.”
My love.
Around us, the world fell eerily quiet. No birds chirped. No waves crashed against the distant shores. Even the wind came to a standstill.
Kai had called me love many times before, but he’d never called me his.
One word. Two letters.
Sometimes, they made all the difference.
Kai’s smile slipped into a line of realization. Tension crept between us, twining around my torso and settling in my chest like a concrete weight.
It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was the type of silence so drenched in meaning that it drowned out any admissions lurking beneath the surface. We weren’t ready for those conversations.
I changed the subject before the pause stretched into must-acknowledge territory.
“Well, let’s see how your other suggestions fare before we test the orgasm theory,” I said lightly.
“What about you? How are negotiations with Mishra going?”
DigiStream was one of the many fires Kai had to put out due to the National Star photos. I thought it was hypocritical of them to care so much about who he spent his free time with when their CEO got hospitalized for a drug overdose, but what did I know? I was just a bartender. Ex-bartender, if I didn’t find a new job soon.
Kai shifted, and just like that, the world came roaring back. The bird and ocean sounds returned, and the wind blew strands of hair across my face. Tension melted like pools of ice beneath the sun.
“They removed Whidby as CEO two days ago,” he said. “Mishra officially replaced him and is closing ranks, which means I’m basically back to square one. It’s chaos over there.”
“Why is he so reluctant about the deal when his co-founder was so ready to sign?” Kai and I didn’t talk about his work often. He said it would bore me, and I wholeheartedly agreed, but I was genuinely curious about the DigiStream deal.
“Whidby was easy. He wanted the money. Mishra is a purist. He doesn’t want to relinquish control of DigiStream to a corporation who will, quote, unquote, gut it. ”
I chose my next words carefully. “Will you gut it?”
“Not exactly. Their success stems in large part from their culture and team dynamics. I don’t want to ruin that,” Kai said. “But all acquisitions require some form of change from both the buyer and the seller. Their operations have to be streamlined to fit in with the rest of the company.”
“That’s the sticking point,” I surmised.
Kai dipped his chin in affirmation. “The biggest one. Mishra is worried about the integration. He wants a deal where DigiStream operates exactly the way it does now. Obviously, that’s not possible.
Even if I agreed, the board members won’t. They have to approve the strategic plan for all new acquisitions.”
“Is there a way to offer concessions on specific changes he’s worried about instead of a blanket agreement?”
Kai’s brows winged up. “Perhaps. The details are a bit complicated, but we were working on a similar plan before Whidby’s ouster sidelined negotiations.” A small smile touched his lips. “And you say you don’t like talking business.”
“I don’t. It puts me to sleep ninety percent of the time. You’re lucky this conversation falls into the remaining ten percent.” His laugh brought an answering smile to my face, but it faded when I ventured into my next question. “I’m not saying this will happen, but hypothetically, what happens if you don’t win?”
“I keep my title and position, but I’ll be a laughingstock.” His face cemented into stone. “The other candidates can go back to their jobs and carry on because they were long shots anyway. I’m a Young.
I’ll forever be known as the person who lost his family’s company to an outsider.”
“You’ll still be a major shareholder,” I pointed out. I’d looked it up. Kai controlled over a quarter of the company’s shares, second only to his mother.
“It’s not the same.” A muscle ticked in his jaw before it smoothed. “People remember leaders, not voters.”
“I think people will remember you regardless,” I said. “You’ve broken records even as a non-CEO, and there are plenty of chief executives who are shitty at their job. Your accomplishments matter more than a title.”
Kai’s expression softened. He opened his mouth, but my phone rang and cut him off before he could respond.
Surprise and confusion sparked at the caller’s name. “It’s Alessandra.”
We were friendly, but I couldn’t think of a reason why she’d call me out of the blue.
“Take it,” Kai said. “It must be important if she’s calling on the weekend.”
In the end, curiosity won out. I walked to the other side of the terrace and answered the call. “Hey, Ale.”
“Hey. Are you free to talk right now?”
I glanced at Kai and my half-eaten lunch. “For a bit. What’s up?”