Page 15

Roxanne

“ A re we having this conversation again ?” I glare at Leonard.

He keeps staring at his computer, frowning because of a problem we incurred this morning. He stubbornly refuses to give me access to the part of his company that concerns his employees, and I’m here, waiting for him to check those files.

“As long as you keep asking me to stick your nose where you shouldn’t, yes, we are having this conversation.” He never moves his gaze from the monitor.

I study him, his disheveled state. We have been working nonstop on this project since he hired me, and we are running in circles, chasing dead ends. It’s frustrating for both of us.

I discovered a side of Leonard that I didn’t know existed.

A less perfect version with messy hair from constantly running his hands through it.

He doesn’t wear a tie because he had almost ripped it off in frustration after hours of coding a patch that didn’t yield any promising results.

His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows since he needed to keep busy while I searched through yet another directory that turned out to be a dead end.

I discovered a Leonard who is more human and less tycoon, someone almost relatable.

“You know that I can do it anyway, but I’m being nice and letting you trust me, right?” I challenge him.

He glances over at me, and his lips slightly curve upward. Another novelty about Leonard: he can smile!

“Of course, I know it. But if you do, you’ll be escorted out of this place by the FBI,” he threatens me. His tone is playful, but I know he can do it. He has so many connections all it would take is a phone call to lock me up forever.

“Really? You feel so threatened by a girl you’d have to call the big bad guys?” I tease.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You don’t threaten my masculinity by showing off your skills,” he counters.

“Strange. I didn’t mention your masculinity, but you felt the need to point it out.” I grin when he rolls his eyes.

“I pointed it out because you always go there. You never cease to mention that men and women are equal and that all this toxic masculinity is getting inside our heads.”

He has a point. I remind him daily of this. “It’s true,” I scoff.

He finally turns toward me and pins me to the chair with his magnetic stare. Jesus, those eyes.

“I know it’s true, and I never once led you to believe I think otherwise. I’m well aware of the disparity between men and women, especially how you’re treated in tech. I’m doing everything I can to erase this divide and change men’s mentality in every one of my companies.”

That is also true. To my annoyance, he proved me wrong when I said he keeps perpetrating the same toxic work environment as most of the companies I had to deal with.

A knock on the door puts our conversation on hold.

“Come in,” he says, and his secretary—a beautiful woman in her fifties—enters the room.

“Sorry to interrupt; I’m going out for lunch. Should I bring you back something?” she asks, as she does every day.

To my surprise, Leonard shakes his head.

“No, we’re going out, thanks.” He smiles at her.

“We are?” This is the first time we haven’t eaten our meals in front of the computer.

“Don’t be so surprised,” he scolds.

“Are you serious? This is the first time we’re walking out of this office with the sun still in the sky. Are you sure you’re not going to burst into flames?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. I need to get out or I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” he says, standing up and walking around the desk.

When I turn and face the secretary, I almost laugh, noticing her wide eyes and bewildered expression. She is probably not used to this kind of banter with her boss.

When we’re in the elevator I can’t stop a laugh from bubbling up in my chest. “I think we shocked your secretary,” I say.

“Probably. She’s not used to this familiarity.” He smiles.

“Always playing the boss card with her?” I roll my eyes.

“No, she’s just not comfortable mixing her professional and private life, and I respect that,” he explains simply and I feel a pang of guilt in my chest.

I assumed he was the one keeping his distance.

“So, where are we going?” I ask when I step out of the elevator toward his car. The driver is already waiting for us by the back door. I wonder if he lives in this car. Sometimes he looks like part of the amenities this luxury vehicle offers. He never talks either, like he is not human at all.

“You’ll see.” A smug smile appears on his face.

I’m guessing today I’ll get to eat at a fancy restaurant I couldn’t afford unless I go out with my sister and Raphael.

I couldn’t be more wrong. When the car drives into a neighborhood that doesn’t scream super rich, I start to suspect I’m not getting a fancy experience.

When it stops in front of what looks like a family diner, I’m relieved. I won’t be ashamed to wear shorts and sneakers while eating my meal.

“What is this place?” I ask when he helps me out of the car.

“Something I discovered a while ago,” he says cryptically.

It’s typical Leonard. He never gives you a straight answer, and I’ve learned not to push him. He likes to be mysterious, but in the end, he’ll answer your question.

We enter the place, and I was mistaken. It’s not a diner. It’s a bakery. My mouth hangs open in front of shelves loaded with at least ten different kinds of bread, pastries, but also sandwiches. A small fridge on the left contains bottles of water and sodas.

“This is a paradise,” I say while deeply inhaling the smell of freshly baked bread.

Leonard chuckles. “I know. It smells so good, and it tastes even better.”

I turn toward him and encounter a genuine smile on his face. He looks almost younger with that dreamy, nostalgic gaze. I don’t know what this place reminds him of, but I am sure it’s a good memory.

“Leonard!” A black-haired, olive-skinned woman hollers from behind the counter.

She is in her mid-sixties, maybe older, with a smile that takes over her whole face. She walks around the counter and hugs him. And he hugs her back. Leonard willingly hugs someone. I’m astounded.

“How are you doing?” he asks as she walks back around the counter.

There is no one besides us in this place, and it’s a bit surprising, considering how good those things look.

“Good! How are you doing?” she asks, but Leonard stays silent for a long moment, studying her.

“How are you really doing?” he asks again, and this time, the woman looks almost shy.

“Business is a bit slow lately, but we’ll be fine.” She smiles as though she’s almost convinced of her statement, but it doesn’t lessen Leonard’s worried look. His eyebrows are still knitted in concern.

“What can I get you?” she asks me, clearly wanting to change the subject.

For a moment, I think he won’t drop the subject, prying information from her, but then he puts a hand on my back and guides me to the counter.

“Their burrata and sun-dried tomato sandwich is the best,” he suggests.

“I’ll go with his suggestion,” I tell the woman.

“Do you want a bit of pesto in it?” she asks.

“Yes, please!” It comes out more needy than I intended.

We wait for our orders in silence, even though I’m dying to know how he discovered this place.

When we finally sit down at the small table near the window, I ask him.

“I was looking with some investors for a place to develop a new business, and we ended up in this neighborhood. We didn’t go through with the project, but I love their sandwiches, and I come here quite often,” he explains.

His explanation unsettles me. On one side, he looks really concerned for the well-being of the woman behind the counter. On the other, he knows this place because he wanted to tear it down to build another mall and make a profit, becoming even richer at others’ expense.

There are two sides of Leonard I can’t reconcile in my head. The one I’ve discovered recently, who’s less-than-perfect and worries about other people, and the ruthless mogul who will do anything to satisfy his greed.

Every time I start to reconsider my opinion about him, something reminds me why I hate him in the first place. I decide not to show my distaste and let the subject drop for the sake of the woman who is looking at us with anticipation from behind the counter.

“This sandwich is amazing,” I moan when my tastebuds are hit with the savory pesto and sundried tomatoes, giving the burrata a new layer of flavor.

“Isn’t it?” Leonard gives me a smile that almost makes my heart stop.

He rarely smiles, especially not at me, and the sudden brightness in his face is almost enough to make me forget the morning’s turmoil, from our heated arguments to the revelation about this place.

Almost. Because no matter how attractive he may be, I can’t envision a future where my disdain for him goes away.

“If only you’d use the same wise judgment and give me access to all your files,” I taunt him.

He stops eating and studies me with an unreadable expression. Sometimes his thoughts are so inaccessible that he drives me crazy trying to figure out his next move. Most of the time, he surprises me with something I would never expect from him, adding to the intrigue of our relationship.

“I’m working with you. I’m the one doing the job based on your directions. You have to trust me.”

“I know you can do it. But why? It’s not a matter of your employees’ privacy because I understand that, and I don’t ask you to go in there anymore,” I point out.

He takes a deep breath like he is undecided whether to tell me what is going on in his mind or not.

“Because I risk ruining our future collaboration,” he concedes.

I’m a bit lost. “What? Why?”

“Because there’s information in there that concerns my clients.

You can’t access their personal data; privacy violation is out of the question, but you can access the structure of their security systems, giving you an advantage over your competitors, who would have to ask for a warrant from a judge to have the same information.

Giving you access to that means you can be accused of unfair competition and a couple of more serious charges I won’t dig into,” he explains, and I’m surprised again by his reasoning.

“Why are you so sure we’ll have the same clients?”

“Because I personally know a bunch of them, and I’m sure that, at some point, they’ll need your help. It’s just a matter of time.”

I didn’t think about the implications for my job when I agreed to work with him. It makes sense. He sells security systems, and I try to breach them. Some clients will overlap for sure.

“Why are you doing it? You could get rid of me and my contract in one go and not break a sweat doing it.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You really have a bad opinion of me, don’t you?” His tone sounds almost defeated.

I don’t know what to say. Yes, I don’t expect anything good from him.

He built his empire answering to no one, sometimes making questionable decisions regarding his companies.

He suffocated every competitor, causing them to collapse and leaving thousands of families without a primary source of income.

It’s impossible to erase years of bad behavior with his current actions. How can I trust him? He doesn’t trust me in the first place. I suppose the sentiment is mutual. We are going nowhere in the trusting department.

We finish our meal in silence, and before walking out, Leonard approaches the counter again.

“It was amazing,” he tells the woman. “Do you also have the other bill?”

I frown, trying to understand what he is up to.

“Thank you. I feel bad every time I ring up this sum for you.” She is almost ashamed when she hands him the credit card reader to pay more than two thousand dollars.

Now, I’m definitely curious.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not a problem?” he says playfully, clearly having had this conversation a bunch of times.

I keep quiet next to him, not wanting to disturb this moment that feels so intimate.

She tries to reason with him. “I know, but we can find another solution.”

“This is the easiest one, and I don’t mind paying a bit,” he says more firmly.

The woman nods, and we walk out of the place, waving our goodbyes. When we get into the car, I can’t contain my curiosity anymore.

“What was that about?” I ask.

He gives me a look like he doesn’t want to tell me what just happened, but he has to because I was there and he can’t deny it.

“Some families and the homeless around here have a hard time getting by, so they come here, take what they need, and I come by once in a while to pay the bill. This is a family-run business, and they’re trying to help the community, but they can’t afford to give away things for free,” he explains almost reluctantly, and I’m speechless.

Every time I convince myself he is the bad guy, he pulls some major hero card that upends all my beliefs. Like this, providing for poor people and trying to hide it.

Who are you, Leonard Walton?