Can't Fix Cupid

“Oh my God, I’m in,” she says.

Well, now I’m just suspicious.

“You are?” I ask warily.

“Yep. Warren Knight. California’s hotshot CEO playboy. Greed conglomerate and serial dater hater. I want to fuck with him.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Umm…”

Seeing my expression, she waves a hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t be too hard on him, and this will actually help you out. Because you know there’s zero chance I’ll get dazzled by his hotness. I’m the perfect candidate to help you help him not be such a douche.”

“Oh. Okay then, that’s good. So you’ll really do it?” I press. “You’ll go on this date?”

Blue shoves the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and then chugs some water as soon as she finishes. “Yep,” she says after wiping her mouth. “I don’t have anything else going on anyway. I’ll get ready after I’m finished soldering my glass.”

My gaze flicks over her. “Okay, but do you have clothes or…?”

Blue levels me with a look and cocks a brow. “What, do you have some negative body image thoughts that you’ve been secretly harboring this whole time?”

I blanch. “What? No, I—”

Blue’s stern face immediately cracks when she starts to laugh, cutting off my internal freak out. “Oh, man! You should’ve seen your face!”

I sulk. “Not cool.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t scare him off with my nudist ways or get arrested for public indecency. At least, not on the first date,” she says with a wink before she goes sauntering off, ass cheeks shimmying with every confident step.

“That wasn’t nice,” I tell her.

“Be honest, though. It was funny.”

She wants honest? “Well...this sandwich tastes terrible!” I call at her retreating bare backside.

She just laughs. “I know. Why do you think I eat so fucking fast?” she says over her shoulder.

Damn nudist vegans.

Chapter 11

Warren

I continue to listen to Pierson sitting across from me as he drones on and on, noting the way his cheeks have gone ruddy from years of too much alcohol consumption. His white mustache has yellowed near his mouth, but since he’s been bald for years, it’s clear he doesn’t want to let the facial hair go.

There are ten other people seated in the room for today’s board meeting, but I don’t care if I have witnesses, I’m ready to stab my eyeballs with my ballpoint pen if Pierson doesn’t shut the fuck up soon.

The board has been arguing over these investment opportunities for hours. Correction—Pierson has been arguing.

You’d think as the owner and CEO of Knight Enterprises, I wouldn’t have to deal with shit like this, but that’s not how it always works. I seek approval from my advisement board and get advice from their expertise by holding meetings like these, where I attempt to bridge the gap between the old financial gurus and the changes I want to enact to ensure that my company is relevant and keeping up with the changes of society.

Besides, Knight Enterprises has way too many moving pieces for me to manage everything on my own, which is why I have a team of people to help me do it. Unfortunately, that means that I have to endure these damn meetings and get my adv

isors on board when I want to move things in a new direction. Like right now.

“We shouldn’t be wasting resources by dabbling in things we have no business being in,” Pierson says, his stubby finger jabbing at a social media marketing strategy. “We don’t need any of this.”

“I disagree,” I say. “My group of personal researchers gave you the data. Knight Enterprises is failing in the eyes of public opinion. At worst, we’re seen as greedy, corporate grab-hands that buy up real estate left and right. At best, no one knows what the fuck we do. These sister companies we start-up will alleviate that. It’ll show that Knight Enterprises isn’t single-minded.”

“Yes, your so-called think tank,” Pierson says, nearly rolling his eyes.