Page 294 of Manhattan Bossholes

Adding an extra layer of hellishness, I also had to deal with the stares of my parents from the other end of the room. They’d been kicked out of their leadership positions and didn’t have any decision-making authority, but they still had seats on the board as “advisors.”

My mother sat there, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed like she was trying to laser a hole into my father’s forehead while he made conversation with the men sitting next to him. Knowing him, he was probably bragging about the latest model he’d managed to get into his bed. I averted my eyes, turning my attention away as Pam took attendance.

“That’s everyone,” Alice announced, her fingers clicking away on her laptop. “Should I review the minutes from the last meeting?”

“Let’s get into it,” I said. The group quieted to listen to her report. My mother in particular listened intently. I resisted the urge to grind my teeth.

“Thanks, Alice,” I said when she was finished. I looked down at my own laptop, reading off my operational report of the company’s performance. “Work on the new sustainable line is progressing well. We expect to provide a couple samples at High Point at the end of this month, with the rest of the line ready to go into development by Christmas.”

“When do you anticipate the product launch?” one of the members asked.

“Stateside,” I said, “we’re looking at early next year. We’ve set our sights on the beginning of February. If that goes well, we’ll hit the international markets by summer.” The board looked pleased with that information, and I closed my laptop as our CFO rose to his feet to review the financial report from the last quarter.

“These are our latest numbers,” he said, starting up a PowerPoint presentation. “As you can tell, we’re trending up⁠—”

“That’s what I like to see,” my father said, earning him a chorus of chuckles. “All green lines.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of all people, my father had no right to use that bragging tone, as if he was in any way responsible for the company’s success. He was the one who had nearly driven it into bankruptcy, along with my mother. I was the one who had saved it—the son both my parents had written off years ago.

Thank God this meeting was almost over. I pulled out my phone, texting Natasha. Coffee when I’m done?

The Coffeezilla special?

I smirked. Only if you’re going to make it for me wearing tight jeans and that sexy little apron.

How about I wear nothing but the apron?

Holy shit. This woman was too damn much, and I wanted this meeting to be over now. Maybe I’d skip coffee and invite Natasha up to my office for a quickie. I adjusted my pants subtly.

Are you almost done?

Just wrapping up, I typed.

Please stop by my office when you’re done, Mr. Saunders. There’s a new chaise lounge design I need your thoughts on.

She followed that up with a little winky emoji.

Fuck yes, I liked where this was heading. I tucked my phone away as Alice started confirming the date and time for the next board meeting.

“Sounds like we’re just about done here,” I said. “Unless anyone has any action items that we missed?” I looked around the table. I didn’t expect there to be any follow-up when things were going this well. Sales were clearly coasting along, there hadn’t been any major supply chain issues, we had exciting new marketing plans in the works, and everything was on track for the trade show. Heads shook as people started packing up, then to my utter horror, my mother stood and cleared her throat.

“I’d like to launch a challenge for leadership.”

“Excuse me?” I said, certain I’d heard her wrong. What the absolute fuck was she thinking? The board members glanced side to side, shocked. Even my father had a hard time hiding his surprise.

“I am putting forth a motion to remove Trent Saunders as CEO,” she repeated, looking around at the table.

“Is this a joke?” I asked.

“No.” She looked at me, shaking her head with that look of martyred disapproval she’d honed on my father for so many years, like I was the screwup that only she was saintly enough to forgive. “It has come to my attention recently that Trent is ill-suited to the role of CEO at this time.”

“What are you talking about?” I snarled.

Alice gaped, her fingers flying across her keyboard. I couldn’t wait to relive these minutes at the next meeting.

“Trent is currently under an enormous amount of stress. His grandmother, Deana Saunders, is very ill. The prognosis is poor, and, understandably, Trent’s priorities have shifted away from the company to focus on her care.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I growled, a white-hot rage flashing inside me. She had no business talking about Dee or her diagnosis. What the hell did she know about how I was handling that?