Page 5 of Size King

He is pondering and considering the idea seriously. He is nodding, seemingly impressed, so I continue.

“I went through some old interviews of you online from when you were first starting your company,” I say. “And I saw a story where you told an interviewer that you wanted to get rich enough that you could donate electronics to people in need as often as possible.

“So, it got me thinking. Why don’t you live up to that early goal? You’re a billionaire, and you can easily afford to donate some tablets. Shit, even some laptops if you felt giving enough. Giving your learning tablets to these sick little kids would be sweet, heartwarming, and a fantastic chance for photo and video opportunities.

“Next, we give a press conference, where inevitably someone will ask you if you’re doing this just for publicity. You will explain that you’ve wanted to donate to the hospital for years and figured now is a good time to start. We can then either have a plant ask—or wait for a legitimate reporter to ask—whether the sexual allegations are true. You can either choose not to comment, or you can say something that will win the crowd over.”

I wait for him to say something, but he just keeps sitting there and looking at me with his hungry eyes. He has his hand to his mouth, only serving to make my imagination run wild with ideas of what I want to do to that mouth.

“Anyway,” I say. “That’s what I got there. Also, not to be hypocritical or cunty or whatever, but if you look at it from a marketing standpoint, too, it’s a win. If the cameras see those kids enjoying your tablets, other kids around the country will see them enjoying them. It’s basically free advertising, and let’s face it, I didn’t even know you had a learning tablet on the market, do you know what I mean? It will raise awareness.”

I reallydidfeel heartless for thinking about making a profit during a trip to a children’s wing of a hospital, but I knew that any big company is always looking to make a bigger profit. He seems amused by my logic.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“I think I’m going to make myself a drink,” Aiden says.

He gets up from his desk and walks over to the corner of his office where there is a fridge and mini-bar setup. He gets out a small bottle of vodka and a gallon of orange juice. He also grabs two bottles of water from the fridge before he starts mixing his beverage. He keeps shooting glances at me, but I’m reluctant to enable him.

“I think everything you just said is exactly what we should do,” Aiden says. “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll donate the learning tablets to the children, take a few snapshots, some selfies, and then—well, you know the plan. You just gave it to me! I think that’s actually genius.”

“Gee, thanks!” I laugh. “I thought it wasgood. I didn’t think it wasgenius.”

“Well, it is,” he says as he pours his vodka in with his juice. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” I say.

He comes back with his screwdriver and the two waters, handing me one of them.

“Thanks,” I say, holding my bottle up.

“This may be awkward, and you can say no,” he begins clumsily, “but I feel kind of weird sitting behind a desk like this to address you. I’m really impressed by you, and I want us to be equals right now. Could I maybe sit beside you in front of my desk?”

“Sure, go for it,” I reply.

I take a few good swigs of water, trying to distract myself from how sexy this man is. I really get to see just how tall he is as he takes his chair from behind the desk and moves it right next to mine.

“I’m getting my morning orange juice with a little kick,” he explains while taking his seat. “I don’t drink and drive.”

“That’s good to know,” I say. “Also, and this is just some information you should know in case you want to use it, I know who your accuser is personally.”

He takes a long sip of his drink. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I knew your last PR manager from college. Sarah Blackburn.”

“I feel like I’m cold all over all of the sudden,” he says in aggravation.

“Yeah, I knew her, and I didn’t like her that much, to tell you the truth,” I admit. “She was kind of a major slut on campus. She slept with most of our professors to get through the more difficult classes.”

“Of course, she did,” he says, laughing while he empties his glass.

“Yeah, she got two of them fired after she told the dean that they pressured her into having sex with them one semester.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks with wide eyes. “She really got her teachers fired after she fucked them for an A?”

“It appears that way,” I concur.

“I’d be interested to talk to those two professors,” he remarks.