“This did it,” he says, confirming my suspicion. “Talk to Johnny Kove. If he did it intentionally—which seems to be the case—fire him.”
Does he own this company also? He sure sounds like he does.
Alex looks upset. “He’s one of my best developers.”
“You’re one of your best developers,” Vlad retorts. He explains to me, “Alex originally wrote this game, as well as a few other mega hits.”
“He’s being too modest,” Alex says. “We wrote it together, but now that he’s so busy with Binary Birch projects, I work on it with my dev team.”
“Well, it’s your call,” Vlad says, but his tone doesn’t match his words. “Keep in mind, though, if the guy does something like this again, I won’t come to the rescue.”
Alex says something in Russian. It sounds conciliatory, but it could be my imagination.
Vlad replies sternly, and they go back and forth like that for a bit. Something tells me the topic has shifted from games to something more personal.
“Thank you both,” Alex says when the sibling bickering comes to an end. “I’ll walk you out.”
That saves us from the Nerf gun attack. When the elevator opens, Alex glances at his brother with a mischievous expression, then faces me. “Fanny, we’re having a big 1000 Devils anniversary party at my parents’ restaurant next week. Could I ask you to please drag Vlad over there? It would mean the world to the family.”
“You don’t have to dignify that with a reply,” Vlad growls.
Since Vlad ultimately pays my salary, I take that as a hint to stay silent.
The elevator doors slide shut, and Vlad jabs the button for the lobby. “Back to our earlier conversation,” he says as we descend. “Did you think of a safe way to test the male batch of the hardware?”
I did, in fact, do just that. Running around as a squirrel is very conducive to plotting evil deeds, as well as testing procedures. The problem is, I don’t know if I have enough proverbial balls to voice my insane idea out loud.
“Look,” he says softly. “If you want to quit the project, I understand.”
This again? He thinks I’ve chickened out? That my prudish nature has won?
I straighten my spine. “Actually, I have the perfect male in mind for the testing. Someone you’ll think is safe, guaranteed.”
His lips thin into an angry line. “Who?”
I take in a deep breath and call forth all of my courage. “You.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Me?” Eyes widening, he steps back.
I’m committed now, so I barrel ahead. “It makes sense. I presume you trust yourself not to toss me into the Harbor. The privacy of the project isn’t compromised. And, well”—I blush horribly—“you have the right parts for it.”
Unbidden, my eyes drop to said parts, then I quickly look up.
The elevator doors open.
“Let’s continue this in the car,” he says, his expression turning unreadable.
Crap, crap, crap. Is he hating the idea? Hating me for even suggesting it? Ugh, how awkward is it going to be if he says no?
Am I about to get fired for coming on to my boss’s boss?
We get into the limo again, sitting opposite each other this time.
He makes the partition go up. “Just to clarify: I test the male batch, acting as both giver and receiver, right? I actually already tested one of the pieces on myself after I wrote the app, so I could in theory do the same with the rest of them.”
Yes! He’s actually considering it. I want to jump up and down, even as the blush that had slightly receded on the walk from the elevator returns in all its glory. “That wouldn’t be good end-to-end testing, and you know it. You wrote the code; that makes you biased.”
His nostrils flare. “Then how?”
Even my feet are blushing at this point. “You just act as the receiver. I act as the giver, and record the testing data. It’s the proper way these things are done.”
His eyebrows lift. “That’s stretching the definition of the word ‘proper’ way outside its comfort zone.”
“Look.” I try to mime his accent as best I can. “If you want to quit, I understand.”
A slow, sensuous smile curves his lips. “I don’t shy away from a challenge.”
Can my panties really melt, or is that just a saying? Doing my best to play it cool, I quirk my fake eyebrow. “That’s a yes, right?”
“Yes. How do you see this working, logistically?”
Holy guacamole. He’s in. I got him to commit.
But what now?
On some level, I didn’t expect him to actually agree to this madness, and now that he has, I’m faced with the logistics of using sex toys on my boss’s boss. Logistics that will include getting him off—and recording how fast in a spreadsheet.
Or worse, recording that I couldn’t get him off.
C++ help me, there are worse logistics than that. For example, don’t most guy toys require an erect penis to go into some of the toys? How do I make sure his is ready for testing… logistically?
“You don’t have to decide all this now,” he says, once again seemingly reading my mind.
“Right.” I clear my throat and reach for my inner QA analyst. “Off the top of my head, it would be best to use the app as close to how it was intended as possible. Meaning remotely.” As in, I don’t want to be next to him for the “getting the penis ready” part of these logistics.
Unless, maybe I do?
No. Must at least pretend to be professional. Or what passes for professional under the circumstances.
“Yes, doing this remotely makes sense.” Is that disappointment hidden behind the indecipherable expression on his face? “When do you want to start?”
“I’m free tonight,” I blurt.
Crap. That wasn’t smooth. Do I look like a loser who has no life?
Recalling the scent of perfume on the testing sheet and inside the suitcase, I quickly add, “Assuming you don’t have a Friday night date, that is.”
He pulls out his phone and sends a few rapid-fire texts. “My evening schedule is now cleared. This is very important.”
“Why is it so important?” I ask.
What I really want to know is if it has something to do with someone who uses a little too much perfume.
He frowns. “I thought I explained this earlier. There’s a chance to demo the final product to the editors of Cosmo in two weeks.”
That’s why it’s important to the Belka company, but not why it’s important to him. Oh, well. I guess he doesn’t want to tell me the real reason—which might mean it has something to do with the perfumed mystery lady (or possibly gentleman—why not keep an open mind?).
If I needed another reason to keep things professional between us, here it is: Vlad might already be taken.
Who is she? the green monster of jealousy demands.
How would I know?
Find out, then tell her you humped her man with a sex toy.
Belka is probably the company she works for, so she might not care.
Plan B: kill her.
The car comes to a full stop, and with a mixture of relief and disappointment, I realize I’m home.