Nick’s eyes search mine and I don’t know what he’s thinking, but there’s a softness in his gaze I haven’t seen before. It’s almost…tender. And so out of character. My stomach flips and a slow heat gathers low in my belly as his attention shifts, settling on my mouth. His pupils expand, devouring the umber irises, and there’s no denying the look of hunger in his eyes.
A look that’s no doubt reflected in my own.
A look that is hella inappropriate!
Right. Because sleeping with the CEO is so last century. And the worst possible way to start a career.
I tear my gaze from his—which takes a herculean effort—and point to the survey results. “What about this one?”
Nick looks down at the screen and slowly reads, “Install sleeping pods to accommodate power naps.” He makes a dismissive sound and adds, “I’m pretty sure sleeping on the job is grounds for dismissal.”
“Oh my God.” I groan and tip my face to the sky because I can’t even. “It’s like you’re a boomer trapped in a millennial body.”
Talk about the ultimate bait and switch.
“Naps are for toddlers,” he shoots back, completely unfazed. “Triada pays its employees to innovate, not sleep.”
I huff out a breath, nostrils flaring. The man has a stubborn streak wider than the state of Texas.
“Maybe you should do your research before you dismiss some of these ideas. Science has proven that power naps boost productivity and creativity.”
If I’ve learned anything about Nick, it’s that appealing to his analytical side is my best chance of changing his mind. Still, I have to tread lightly. I don’t want to tip my hand and reveal that this was one of my ideas. If he finds out I’m the one who’s been stuffing the suggestion box, he’ll never listen to another thing I have to say. “Giving employees a quiet place to rest and rejuvenate is certainly a healthier alternative than a caffeine drip, which is probably why so many of our tech peers have implemented the practice.”
“I wasn’t aware these nap pods or whatever,” he says, making a whirling motion with his hand, “were becoming commonplace.”
No surprise there. Nick might be a savvy businessman, but people aren’t his strong suit. And that would be okay if he’d just acknowledge the blind spot and surround himself with people whose strengths complement his own.
Like Miles?
Okay. So maybe finding those people isn’t the hurdle but listening to them.
“But come on,” he says, no doubt preparing to dig in his heels. “Some of these ideas are just nuts. Beer in the vending machine? Condoms in the restrooms?”
My cheeks flush at the mention of condoms, but I push ahead. I’ll never win a debate with Nick if I back down every time I get uncomfortable. I’ve got twenty-three years of experience backing down to prove it. This time, I need to step up. “Yes, some of the suggestions are ridiculous, but not all of them.”
He straightens just a bit and leans forward, holding the phone out so I can see the screen better. “That’s fair. Which others do you think could work?”
“You want my opinion?” I point to myself because, let’s be honest, Nick isn’t exactly open-minded. As far as I know, the only people he takes feedback from are his brothers.
“Yes, Scarlett. I want your opinion.” He smirks. “You have a head for this stuff. And you have a way of helping me understand it, too.”
That last part might be a stretch, but I won’t lie. I’m flattered he’s asking for my insight. I thought I’d have to force-feed it to him every step of the way with the Val social, but this? This is an opportunity to bring more of my ideas to life, to expand the scope of my capstone project.
If I can convince Nick to implement additional measures to improve the current work environment, we could see real improvement in the employee satisfaction surveys. And I could build a stronger case for a full-time OB Specialist.
Baby steps, Scarlett.
“Can I take a look?” I ask, gesturing to his phone.
He hands it over and I scroll, bypassing several suggestions I know he’ll fight. I mentally run through all the ideas I’ve submitted, quickly landing on one that could not only benefit the office but the grumpy CFO himself. When I find it on the list, I hold up the phone so the screen is facing him.
“An office pet would be a great fit with Triada’s culture.” Or at least the culture they intended to cultivate when designing the workspaces. “And you’ll see immediate results.”
Nick blinks. Then his brows furrow and he shakes his head. “Okay, you’ve lost me. I know people like animals, but how would an office pet be an asset to Triada?”
“Office pets are beneficial in several ways,” I say, smiling broadly. Clearly this man has never owned a pet in his life, because if he had, he’d know they’re always a good idea. “They can help reduce stress and improve productivity, collaboration, and communication. Plus, they boost morale, which, if I remember correctly, was one of your key objectives in starting the suggestion box.”
He opens his mouth to reply, then snaps it shut.
