Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Conrad would not be moved. “Well, I had to come, didn’t I? Since my star employee threatened to abandon his post at the last minute.”
I stifled a sigh. “I take it you read my email from earlier this morning, then?”
Conrad grunted. “Not sure what kind of hardball you thought you were playing, Jonathan, but it’s highly unprofessional.”
“Yeah. Highly unprofessional,” Jeff echoed.
“If this was your way of expressing displeasure about our decision to delay your promotion, you’ve gone about it entirely wrong—”
“Yeah, entirely,” Jeff said smugly.
“But if it’ll get you to cease this tomfoolery about leaving Fortress, then we’re prepared to offer you the vice presidency,” Conrad said grudgingly.
“Yeah, we’re prepared to… wait, what?” Jeff gave Conrad a look of betrayal.
I darted a glance at Flynn, who wasn’t even pretending to talk to the Ren Faire people anymore. All of them had turned their attention to my conversation instead.
Great.
“That email wasn’t a threat,” I said. I turned my head to meet Flynn’s gaze. This was not the way I’d planned to explain things to him, but then… things rarely went according to plan for the two of us, and it had seemed to work out okay eventually, right? “It was my resignation. I’m leaving Fortress, effective immediately.”
Flynn looked horror-struck.
Fuck.
Conrad waved a hand. “Nonsense. Here you are at the Honeycomb Mead booth, still working to sign the deal—”
“It’s Honeybridge Mead,” I said firmly. “And they’re not interested in moving forward with Fortress at all. Neither am I.”
Conrad’s chin lowered, and his wide brow folded in confusion. His eyes flicked down to Flynn’s logo on my chest before glancing back up at my face. “I don’t understand. Why in the world would you be working here if you hadn’t closed the deal?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother move forward as if she was going to intercede. The fiery burn of anger singed my vision as I shot her a look that hopefully said, “Do it and perish. Violently.”
“Because I believe in this product,” I said calmly, willing Flynn to believe the truth of my words. “I believe in this company. I believe in Flynn Honeycutt.”
He huffed out a laugh. “So you’re leaving Fortress so you can spend your time hawking the wares of someone from a little nothing of a town in nowhere, Connecticut?” he blustered.
Instead of correcting him—instead of reminding him that Flynn’s mead was the vaunted “ware” that had become famous on social media because it had actually impressed someone enough to make a big deal out of it, and instead of reminding him of the name (and state) of my town—I simply shrugged. “Why not?”
“Jonathan.” Conrad’s tone turned conciliatory. “Let’s not be hasty. If you need additional time off to spend in Honeybuns, I’m sure that can be arranged. And a small increase in salary—”
“Will change nothing,” I interrupted.
Flynn stepped up next to me, his solid presence grounding me in a way only he had ever been able to do. “Jon,” he said in a low voice. “Could I please have a quick word with you. Privately. Now?”
“It’s all good, Flynn,” I assured him. In a whisper only he could hear, I added, “I’m so sorry, baby. I promised I’d fill you in on everything later, and I will. Trust me?”
“Yes, but—”
“Finish your meeting, okay? Focus on what’s important.”
Flynn’s face took on the stubborn, defiant look I’d seen so many, many times over the years. In one deliberate motion, he grabbed my hand, laced our fingers together, and pressed himself to my side. “I am,” he said.
I sucked in a breath. I was going to love this man until the day I died.
Turning to my former boss, I continued. “What it boils down to, Conrad, is that I’m tired of working hard for someone else’s gain. I’ve grown Fortress’s bottom line for years, and instead of rewarding my hard work, you decided to give me extra challenges. I completely understand your desire to keep me hungry—it allows you to keep more of the profits for yourself, and that’s your prerogative as the CEO. But it’s made me realize that I’d like to be my own CEO. So I can run the business the way that works best for me. In a way that’s in line with my values.”
“Oh, really.” Conrad’s nostrils flared, and he darted an angry glare at the spots where Flynn and I touched. “I see what’s happening here. Well, if you’re planning to start a company in the beverage industry, you’d best think again. That would violate your noncompete agreement and cause you a heap load of legal troubles.”
“So many legal troubles,” Jeff agreed. “You’ll be toast.”
I felt Flynn stiffen in anger at my side, so I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I expect you’ll do what makes the most sense for Fortress. However, be aware that earlier this summer, when I was researching past contracts I’d negotiated for the company, I happened to take a look at my own employment contract. Turns out, I never signed a noncompete agreement. I requested red-line changes to it, and your attorney never got back to me with a new version to sign.” I shrugged. “Seems like Fortress isn’t so great with the follow-through.”