Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
“Oh, for sure,” Mark says, desperate to please as always.
“Thanks, Mark,” I say sharply, ready to put this conversation out of its misery. “When you’re working, you’ll be in here with him, Miss Lancaster. The room is big enough to share, I trust.”
“Sure,” she says, glancing around. The office isn’t massive by any means, but it’s perfectly comfortable, and there are two chairs at a large wraparound desk.
Mark smiles at us both. “I’ll make you a space, Dess.”
Brown-nosing prick.
He’s known her for all of sixty seconds and he’s already resorted to nicknames?
I don’t know what it is about him, but sometimes he really grates on me.
Or maybe it’s just this woman injecting a baffling heat in my blood that feels too much like jealousy.
Absolute fucking nonsense.
“We should get going, there’s more to cover,” I say, giving Mark a quick nod.
Destiny trails after me, scanning the environment as I lead her to another person she’ll need to know.
“This is Carol Garcia, our Senior Product Manager,” I say. “Carol oversees our product lines from discovery to development, then beta testing and launch. Carol, meet Destiny Lancaster.”
Carol smiles.
At first glance, she might not look like much, but she’s a powerhouse in a lean, short package. She makes a point of being intimately acquainted with all of our products in a way no one else at this company is.
I wouldn’t go as far as to say she’s invaluable—because no one truly is—but she does an excellent job of being necessary.
“Hi, Miss Lancaster,” she says. “It’s great meeting someone who gets to represent the fun side of Home Shepherd.”
I grit my teeth.
True or not, 'fun' is not the word I’m looking for.
We’re a security company for fuck’s sake.
“Call me Destiny. Please.” She extends a hand and they shake.
“You’ll be working under Mark in Corporate Giving, but if there’s anything you need, just let me know. I’m always happy to help.”
“Well,” Destiny says, flashing me a quick glance, “that depends if I’ll be involved in any of Home Shepherd’s products. Or if any of them are involved in charity work, I guess.”
“If you’re interested, you could take a look at our process,” Carol says.
“Miss Lancaster is here to learn more about our charity endeavors,” I remind her, clearing my throat.
“Oh, of course, Mr. Foster. But that’s a good thing to get young people involved in, too. Did you know we’re expanding into security services for campus safety?” Carol beams at Destiny and prattles on at length about our Home Away school initiatives.
I’m not entirely sure why she doesn’t bother me the way Mark does, even when she talks like a chipmunk on speed. Maybe it’s her efficiency and honest passion. Carol does the work of three people. She’s due for a raise and I make a mental note to revisit it.
“Thanks,” I say, waving Destiny onward. “I’m sure you two can get more familiar another time.”
Carol sends Destiny a wink I pretend not to notice, and we head back to the elevators to the top floor. Mine.
Only my office and Hannah’s desk are up there, though sometimes I think we’re wasting space.
“I was wondering,” Destiny says, “how involved you are in defense technology?”
Finally, a question worth asking.
“We draw the line at doing business with anyone funding active wars of aggression,” I tell her curtly. “Both in the U.S. or internationally. Believe me, we had offers left and right from both sides of the latest European crisis. I rejected them all.”
“You did? Wow. It’s so political. Everyone wants everything in black and white. Nobody can stand it when you don’t choose their side.” A tiny smile curves one corner of her mouth as she nods, apparently pleased.
“My money and my morals were better spent on helping the people who fled that war. They had no say in it, after all. I had zero interest in helping anyone precision-target their drones into better murder machines.”
Are her cheeks red as she quickly glances away?
Damn.
An odd satisfaction pulses through me before I remember I don’t give a shit about how she sees what we do here.
This is about my vision for the company. Her opinions aren’t welcome beyond charity and positive influencer content.
“I know the security focus and our technology edge makes it seem like we’re involved in defense schemes. The truth couldn’t be more different,” I tell her. “We’re solely focused on domestic security for earning our keep. We want to make normal people feel safer, wherever they are.”
“You do purchase military technology,” she says carefully. “I did my homework.”
“We do. Old technology,” I emphasize. “We take the existing tech and repurpose it. It’s a form of war-to-peace recycling, and because military-grade weapons and sensors are more advanced than you’ll find on the market, our products are always better.”
“But you’re careful about who you sell to, aren’t you?”
“Always. That goes from who we buy from, too. I have a long list of nations and NGOs I never accept as suppliers, and they’re not always the ones you’d think.”