Three hours later I’ve accomplished exactly nothing except confirming that having Bree twelve feet away is going to destroy my productivity.
She brings me coffee. Sets it down on my desk without a word. One sugar, no cream, exactly as ordered.
I don’t thank her.
She doesn’t expect me to.
The coffee tastes wrong anyway.
Tuesday is worse.
I’m even colder. More clipped. I pass her desk without making eye contact. I route all communication through email even when talking directly to her would be faster.
She matches my professionalism with something that looks like composure but I can see the hurt underneath.
Good.
Maybe she’ll quit.
Except she doesn’t.
Wednesday there’s an executive team meeting. Board prep. Paloma presenting the donor engagement strategy she’s been working on.
“We need to be in the room,” Cressida,Elspeth’s assistant, announces that morning at my desk while dropping off some papers that need my signature.
I glance up. “What?”
“The meeting. Eleven AM. Conference room. Paloma asked if you want Bree to take notes.”
I should say no. Keep her at her desk.
“Fine,” I hear myself say instead.
At eleven I walk into the conference room. Elspeth is already there along with my CFO and general counsel. The CTO is on video call from the Long Island City facility. Paloma’s got her laptop open and a presentation queued up.
Bree enters last. Takes a seat in the corner. Opens her laptop.
I force myself not to look at her.
Paloma starts presenting.
“We’re being positioned as transactional,” Paloma says. “Donors see us as a tax write-off, not a mission-driven organization.”
Elspeth frowns. “So what’s the solution?”
“More personal engagement. We need Nico doing more public events.”
My jaw tightens. “No.”
“Nico.” Elspeth’s voice has that patient-but-firm tone my COO uses when she thinks I’m being unreasonable. “You’re the face of this company. Donors want to meet you.”
“They want to meet the guy with the scarred face who survived a home invasion.” My voice comes out harder than I intended. “That’s not engagement. That’s voyeurism.”
Silence.
Larissa, my general counsel, clears her throat. “What if we reframe it? Make it not aboutyourstory, but about the mission.”
“It’s always about my story,” I snap. “That’s the whole problem.”
