Nice.
Bastard.
Ashley let out another sigh and nearly died beside Colette. It made her want to barf, seeing how women turned into wilted flowers the second Blaze walked by.
It wasn’t like he filled up the room with his spicy, manly scent, even though it was a scent-free zone. No. That didn’t have anything to do with it at all. His expensive designer suits, tailored to fit his god-like body- nope. That wasn’t it either.
Because Colette had definitely not noticed.
Blaze’s jaw ticks for a second when the room remained absolutely quiet. Nearly everyone leaned forward in their seats, awaiting the results, which had been kept secret in the accounting and marketing department.
Anyone who had an app in the running had to surrender control to Susan, an eighty-year-old accountant, who tallied up the results. She was the equivalent of the mean old granny who would rather shoot you than serve you cookies, so it was a good choice.
“This is it. The results. I’m sure you’ve all been waiting anxiously to find out which one of you takes the prize. I must say, before we get to that, that we should do this every single year. Maybe twice a year. It’s been very good for business.”
Colette bit down on her tongue. She wanted to snipe that it was good for his business maybe, but none of them, well- maybe the winner, were likely to see a raise anytime soon.
Not that they weren’t well paid. HBAD was generous. And it wasn’t like it was New York. At twenty, she really couldn’t complain about her salary or her apartment. Still though. She wasn’t any billionaire, like Mr. Hot Shot at the table. She didn’t own like six million cars and a penthouse. Not that she knew that’s where he lived. She just imagined. Or tried not to. Because thinking about Blaze’s penthouse made her think about what his bedroom looked like, which made her think about his reputation as being a man slut, and she didn’t want to think about that.
Nope, she didn’t even notice him. Ever. Not one bit. Only as a boss who was an asshole at worst, sub-tolerable at best.
The entire room was so quiet that you could have heard a fart. The tiny, squeaky kind. And it was pretty much a guarantee that first thing in the morning, they wouldn’t get by without someone squeezing one off. They were generally silent, though, and so far, the culprit had yet to be identified even after multiple meetings with silent but violent offenders filling up the room.
“Let me first say that you all did very well. You came up with some exceptionally unique apps and as a company, we are very proud that our name is on all the work. I know that these past few weeks haven’t been easy, so we’re planning a staff party outside work hours to help you all unwind, as our little reward for everyone’s hard work.”
A chorus of exclamations and hard releases of breath echoed through the room.
Asshole. Even at twenty, Colette could smell bribery a mile away. The staff party was just a bullshit excuse to get them all to bust their asses without a bonus while assholes at the top raked in all the rewards.
#corporatebullshit and all that.
“Does it involve free drinks?” Del pipes up. Of course he’d wonder about drinks, free or otherwise.
If there was a position for an office perv, Del definitely would take the prize. He loved to draw big breasted women with almost no clothes, nipples sticking out through tight-fitting tops, girls with teeny tiny waists, massive hips and big butts. Essentially, shit that was basically cartoon porn without being actual cartoon porn. He developed adult apps and it was obvious to see why. Cover your eyes kids. He was also single, surprise, surprise, and was constantly yammering on about his smoking hot social life, while everyone knew he sat at home on Friday nights, downed a case of beer, and probably jacked it to his own drawings.
#Epicgrossness.
“That’s to be decided. We might be convinced to offer a toonie bar, so things don’t get out of control.”
Another buzz ripped through the room, and when Blaze’s eyes sweep around, the electricity that snapped and crackled raised the hairs on the back of Colette’s arms for absolutely no reason other than that it was completely contagious. She was just in the path of that current. What could she do to avoid it? It wasn’t like it meant anything.
Because it didn’t.
So, when that electric blue gaze landed on her, Colette convinced herself real fast that she wasn’t indeed having a heart attack. That it was just minor indigestion from the fact that she’d been too nervous to eat that morning and her stomach acids were crawling up her throat.
Not because Blaze effing Hanson was looking at her.