Time: 9:12 AM
Mr. Jones,
What. The actual. Fuck.
Did you just drop a future marriage announcement in a 9:30 a.m. cross-department meeting like it was a quarterly sales update?
I was sipping my damn oat milk latte, preparing to talk about the new EU compliance clause, and you blindside me with “That’s coming whenever she’s ready.”
You’re lucky HR didn’t combust in real time. And Max—oh, Max—looked like he had aged three fiscal years.
For the record, I don’t care that you’re dating my sister. I do care that you’ve turned our company’s all-hands into a soft launch for your personal life. You’d better bring donuts to legal this week. And a signed HR form. And maybe a ring at this point? Just saying.
Naomi Hayes - Head of Legal
P.S. Pascal is already drafting a statement because, apparently, people in Marketing are placing bets.
- - - - -
Subject: RE: This Morning’s Meeting
From: Theodore Jones (CEO)
To: Naomi Hayes (Head of Legal)
Time: 9:15 AM
Naomi,
I’ll admit, maybe the timing was…dramatic. But if I have to listen to twelve more whispers, “Is that the Hayes girl he’s sleeping with?” while trying to talk about EBITDA, I’ll lose my mind. Consider this morning’s announcement strategic preemptive damage control.
Also, for the record, HR didn’t combust because they were pre-warned. Harper thrives on chaos. You, of all people, should respect the efficiency of ripping the Band-Aid off.
Regarding the ring: calm down. I’m not proposing on the company letterhead. Yet. Pascal’s draft statement better not include emojis.
Donuts are incoming. Legal’s preferred order is still the obnoxiously specific box from that place across the bridge, yes? Warmest regards and absolutely no regrets,
Theodore Jones, CEO (and apparently soon-to-be your brother-in-law, according to your email)
P.S. I’ll start taking bets if Marketing is offering decent odds.
I had barely hit send when I heard the distinct clack of heels slicing through the hallway carpet like a judge’s gavel. The knock was perfunctory. The door opened before I could answer. Naomi stepped in with her phone in her hand, thumb scrolling. “Donuts are incoming?” she read aloud, lips twitching.
I leaned back in my chair. “I figured you’d want to emotionally carb-load before you light me on fire.” She laughed, actually laughed, then closed the door behind her and dropped into the chair across from me like she owned the place. Because, to be fair, she kind of did.
“Seriously, though,” she said, tossing her phone on my desk. “You just casually drop the marriage line like that?”
“I didn’t drop anything,” I said, picking up her phone to hand it back. “I answered a question. Max made an insinuation. I clarified.”
“You clarified that you plan to marry thecompany founder’s daughter, your subordinate, in a room full of VPs, assistants, and HR?” I smirked. “Only if and when she’s ready for it.”
Naomi stared at me for a beat. Then, she crossed one leg over the other and shook her head. “I don’t know whether to punch you or write you an endorsement for having the biggest balls in the corporate world.”
“Put both in the article, please,” I said, grabbing the coffee Harper had abandoned on my desk earlier. She gave me that look again, equal parts exasperated and entertained. “You’re serious about her.”
“I am.”
“And you’re not just saying that because she is young, smart, etc?” I raised a brow. “No, but she is all that. Also beautiful and an amazing woman.”
