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He glares at me, probably thinking about throwing me out, and then he returns his attention to his screen.
I scroll on my phone for a moment. “Would you give me a parachute?”
He jerks his head up. “What?”
“If you were to throw me off this plane, would you give me a parachute or just chuck me out?”
He shakes his head slightly and returns to his work. I do the same. Okay, I get to googling images of bedrooms on a private jet.
“When,” Gio says, without raising his head.
I look up, frowning. Is he talking to me?
He lifts his gaze. “When I throw you off this plane, not if,” he deadpans.
Did he just make a joke? Jesus. With this man, who knows? I smile, and I might imagine it, but I think the corner of his mouth quirks up.
* * *
Everything goes wrong at the employee meeting. Gio is as dry and distant as the Wings employees believed. They challenge him on everything, but mostly on corporate greed when in the name of reinventing the brand, his company spent money on new logos instead of on employees who deliver the customer experience.
He answers with sound rationale, without emotions. Like he doesn’t care, though I know he does.
Tully, the manager of the store, is challenging him all the way, but in the end they remain at an impasse. The employees crave attention, some concession, but are unable to win the argument because Gio’s claims are bulletproof.
I watch him in action and feel a mixture of pride and sympathy for him. He’s winning on the issue, but losing the people. He was right to assign this to Marnie, and I can’t help but admire him for stepping in, despite the obvious discomfort he feels.
“You really don’t get it in your ivory tower,” Tully accuses.
Gio adjusts his cuffs, and his jaw could probably cut through diamonds. I can’t stand it anymore.
“You’re right, Tully, we should have involved you earlier, taken your input into consideration.” I step closer and put my hand on her shoulder. “You and your colleagues have been working for this wonderful company way longer than most of the people who spearheaded the change under the new management. Wings take care of their customers in a very personal way, unlike any other chain, and that’s all on your shoulders. You’re on the ground, and your input would have been invaluable.”
Tully’s eyes dart between me and Gio, frowning and assessing my motivation. I glance at Gio and he steps closer, looking into the manager’s eyes.
“Mila is right, mistakes were made. I will take all your concerns over to Marnie and her team, and I’ll oversee the next steps in the company’s transition to ensure we involve you.”
I step to the side, beaming. He got it. His shoulders are still stiff, and his facial muscles are arranged in that typical half-annoyed, half-uninterested expression, but he took my lead and rolled with it.
Tully looks at her coworkers, and then, with a sigh, she extends her hand to Gio. “Okay. Let’s roll it out tomorrow with a bang.”
Gio nods, and an awkward silence descends on the room. He should conclude the meeting with something inspiring, but as if in slow motion, I see him turning away and reaching for the phone in his pocket. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
“Let’s move on to the informal part of the meeting,” I practically squeal. All eyes turn to me, most with expectation, some with wariness, and one pair with exasperation. The deep brown abyss.
“The company is inviting everyone for drinks across the street.” I noticed a bar when we came in, and now I’m begging the universe they have a table available.
A wave of excitement sweeps the room, and Gio shakes his head. “Yes, drinks are on me.”
* * *
“You did well there.” The relaxed velvet of his voice has returned. He leans closer, so I can hear him.
The bar teems with people, but we snatched a table in the corner and I’m getting the third round of drinks for the group. They’ve been more amiable since the first round of beers. And even Gio loosened up a bit.
I didn’t know he followed me to the counter, but suddenly there is too much of him in the room. Crowding out my rational thinking, stealing my breath, robbing me of my composure, negating my dislike of him. His strong masculine scent infiltrates every fiber of my body. Smoky and spicy.
His arm brushes against my skin, and in that moment I wish we were alone. I have no shame.
