Chapter 1
Raven Donovan drummed her fingertips on the desk, waiting for the fool on the other end of the speakerphone to stop digging his own grave.
Kelvin, the Gametronics project manager, had been yammering on for the last ten minutes, trying to explain why his team of crack software developers would miss their deadline this afternoon. Now he was laying it on extra thick, peppering his excuses with IT jargon meant to confuse her. As if this were her first dance with corporate contracting or navigating around those who’d miscalculated when they thought they’d get the best of her.
Underestimating Raven was a mistake. Yet some people still did—until they learned better. It was the age thing, an unfortunate consequence of being a wunderkind. Being disrespected used to drive her crazy. Now, at thirty-one, she saw her relative youth as a superpower. People like Kelvin never saw her coming.
“So after the mainframe melted and the servers went offline, we couldn’t complete our beta testing in time,” Kelvin said.
Wholly unacceptable. Kelvin had plenty of warning about Raven’s tight deadline to roll out Paulson Diagnostics’s newest diabetes monitoring product, and his company’s software was essential to the project.
Raven’s newest brainchild was a product designed to launch Paulson Diagnostics out of the second tier of diabetes monitoring companies and land it firmly among the nation’s top three brands. She’d already enlisted a team of biomedical engineers to create a brand-new device, and Gametronics was building the accompanying app.
Everything hinged on the software that turned blood sugar monitoring into a game. If diabetics felt monitoring their blood glucose was fun, they’d be more likely to check their blood sugar. Better monitoring meant better health and a chance to make a real difference in a major disease. Of all the initiatives Raven had spearheaded in her two years as Executive Vice President of Paulson Diagnostics, this was her favorite. She was due to present it to the board in a month’s time to get approval for mass production. If Gametronics was late, Raven would be late.
And Raven had no intention of being late.
“In our last call, you said you were nearly finished with the beta tests, and the team would finish early.” Raven’s perfectly manicured fingers danced over her computer, switching between open tabs of social media sites. It was truly amazing what you could find on the internet.
“Yeah, but then the mainframe melted, and we lost all our data,” Kelvin spoke slowly, as if she was stupid. “The entire team was here all week trying to get it back up and running.”
Raven scanned a social media account under the name @KelRaiser and shook her head at the images posted over the last couple of days. The team had been together all right, just not tending to their servers. But she wanted to see how far Kelvin was willing to take this little charade. She made a soft, soothing noise. “Sounds harrowing.”
Kelvin managed a half-hearted laugh. “It wasn’t that terrible.”
Raven rolled her eyes. This guy wouldn’t know how to sell a disaster if he were stuck in the middle of a category five hurricane. “You just said you lost all the work you’ve done for us over the last eighteen months.” Raven took several screenshots, then inserted them into an empty email.
“Oh, uh, well, no. Our backups should be on our servers once we get them up and running. Which is why we just need a no-cost extension.”
Ah, so there it was, finally. Kelvin didn’t just want forgiveness for missing the deadline; he wanted out of the ten percent daily fine she’d negotiated into their contract.
Nice try, but no dice. He and his team had played with enough of those in Vegas, along with a plentiful array of strippers.
“A no-cost extension means you don’t face a penalty for being late on your deadline.” Raven switched browser tabs and scrolled through a second account under the name @HighwaytoKel that contained . . . oh, good God. Raven hadn’t seen that many bodily fluids in one screenshot before. Didn’t these guys realize that nothing stayed hidden on the internet? Not only was Kelvin a terrible liar, but he was also unfathomably dumb for an IT guy.
“Right. Because we couldn’t meet it. You know, what with the mainframe and all.” Kelvin’s voice betrayed the slightest hint of panic.
“You’ve had more than adequate time to get the work done.” Raven downloaded a few of the choicest shots and added them to the others in the email.
“But we would’ve met the deadline if it wasn’t for this week,” Kelvin assured her.
“On that, we agree,” she answered. From the looks of it, @HighwaytoKel and his buddies had had one Kel of a week. She hoped the Gametronics boys had enjoyed their party. The ten percent penalty was going to sting.
“Come on. Give us a break. We just need another day or two, three max.” Kelvin had resorted to groveling.
“But then you’ll be rewarded for being late. As an executive officer, I have a fiduciary responsibility to the company. I can’t authorize that kind of allowance.” It wasn’t exactly true, but she wasn’t about to reward Gametronics for their incompetence and lying. She addressed the email to Kelvin and added a note: These servers don’t look out of commission.
“Seriously?” Kelvin’s voice took on a nasty edge.
“Yes. Seriously.” Raven couldn’t help but smile as she hit send.
“I can’t believe you’re gonna bust our balls like this.”
She’d had enough of this guy and his shit. “Before you say another word, how about you check your email,” Raven said, as cool as a winter wind.
A few long, silent moments followed. Raven imagined Kelvin choking on his own tongue as he viewed the images of him and his bros doing shots off waitresses in a casino bar, getting lap dances from strippers, and throwing what looked like a passed out buddy into a fountain.
Kelvin cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. So we’ll finish that beta testing report right away.”
Damn straight you will, asshole. “Excellent. I trust there’s nothing wrong with our data or your mainframe and servers.”
“It’s all good. Safe and sound.” His voice was clipped, like a puppy who’d been neutered.
“Perfect. Do you have an estimate for delivery?”
“ASAP. And if we’re late, that’s on us, of course,” Kelvin said.
“Of course,” Raven answered brightly.
“Thanks for your understanding,” he said.
“Not at all. You have a lot to do, so I’ll let you go.”
“Right, okay.”
Just as he was about to hang up, Raven added, “Oh, and Kelvin?”
“Yes?” His voice trembled faintly.
“You thought you could lie to me. That was a very costly mistake. You’ll be assessed a five percent penalty on your next invoice.”
“Gotcha.”
Raven hung up, then sank back in her chair and rubbed her throbbing temples. Devious people sucked. Kelvin’s little stunt had done more than potentially hurt Gametronics’s bottom line. He’d broken Raven’s trust. If she couldn’t rely on him to tell the truth about his team’s progress, how was she supposed to depend on the integrity of their work?
Since coming on board at Paulson Diagnostics, she’d made lots of small fixes that had helped shore up the company’s short-term debt issues, but this initiative would ensure the company’s long-term survival. There was no room for failure.