Chapter 17 Kickbacks
Knocking on Noah’s office door, I let myself in using my elbow to push the handle down.
“I got you a coffee, sir,” I say happily, “and I thought you might want a cake.”
“A cake?” he asks, looking up from his work. “What do you want, Eden?”
He’s suspicious. Damn it.
“I was just wondering…”
“I’m not telling you,” he cuts in.
“But…”
“Let me guess,” he says. “Everyone is asking you which product concept won?”
“Er… yeah but…”
“But you’re not asking for them,” he continues, leaning back, his arms crossed. “You want to know too?”
“Yeah. That’s right,” I reply, placing the coffee and cake on his desk.
“I’m not telling you,” he repeats.
Frowning, I want to argue back but he doesn’t look like he’ll be moved. Instead, I pick up the coffee and cake once again.
“Hey! Hang on,” he says, getting to his feet. “Where are you taking my cake?”
“When you refuse to be bribed, you don’t get to keep the sweetener.”
His eyes are dark. He’s not impressed as he leans forward over his desk.
“You’re not serious?” he growls.
“I’m taking this kickback with me, since you’re so honourable.”
I hesitate. As fun as it is to joke with him, I still haven’t worked out where the line is, how far a joke can go without causing a problem.
Picking up the cake, I take a bite.
After swallowing the bite of cake, I smirk at him. “Yum,” I tell him before licking my lips.
I can’t keep a straight face. It’s impossible. There’s just no way I can keep myself from laughing so I turn abruptly to leave.
“Eden Winters, if you walk out that door with my cake…”
“What?” Twisting my neck to look at him, I ask. “What will you do?”
“You’re fired,” he tries, although there’s zero threat in his voice.
“Fired, huh?” I ask, before taking another bite, my eyes on him the entire time.
“Yeah. Fired,” he gulps.
“I guess I better eat it here then.”
I’m lucky I’m not choking. I can barely keep my face neutral and I keep having to hold back a laugh.
***
There’s an excitement buzzing around the conference room as we all gather to hear the results of yesterday’s vote. Several people have asked me again if I know the results and I’ve had to admit that I don’t. It’s frustrating.
I don’t know anyone so good at keeping secrets. I asked him several times last night before leaving for the day and then again today, between cake gate and practically begging him, I must have asked him to tell me at least ten times.
But not once has he even been close to giving in.
Now, sitting with the others, I’m just as impatient to hear the result as they are. When he finally enters the room, they all immediately go quiet. He’s in no rush to tell us, if the way he’s taking his time to sit down is anything to go by.
Once seated, he looks around the room. I can’t help but wonder if this is all a ploy. Perhaps this energy, this excitement is what makes Noah’s team the best. I can imagine that once they find out which product we’ll be going forward with, they’ll put all this excitement into the design.
“You all had some truly terrible ideas yesterday,” he says, his face devoid of emotion.
My mouth drops. I can’t believe him. Does he really need to be so mean?
“A cactus sofa?” he scoffs. “How did you even think that up?”
Shaking his head, he ignores the way their expressions have all turned sour, their eyes downcast.
“I don’t know how some of your ideas even got a single vote.”
I’m scowling at him but he is completely oblivious. He’s on a roll.
“That said, there were a few brilliant ideas,” he tells them, his face lighting up. “Lauren, rocking beds wins.”
Her eyes go wide, her eyebrows shooting up into her fringe.
“Really?” she asks.
He doesn’t bother to confirm it for her before continuing. “You’ll be heading up the project. I’m looking forward to what you all come up with.”
“Me?” Lauren looks stricken.
“It’s your idea,” he says with a shrug before getting to his feet, preparing to leave the conference room. “You all stay here and brainstorm. I have work to do.”
He gestures for me to follow him out the door. He reels off a list of things he wants me to do and I quickly agree. Once we reach the door to his office, I move behind my desk. Opening the draw, I pull out a paper bag.
“Noah?” I say just as his hand clasps the door handle.
He turns to look at me inquisitively, his eyebrow raised slightly.
“I had a spare cake,” I mutter, offering him the bag.
“Are you trying to bribe me again?”
“No!” I answer.
“So, this isn’t a kickback?”
“Not unless you want to give me a pay rise?” I say with a wink.
“A pay rise on your second week? You are an ambitious one, Miss Winters!” he remarks with an easy grin.
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