To Color Your Life

Emily felt as though she had been hit on the head with a hammer. It darkened in her eyes, nausea rolled up to her throat.

Denver isn't just going to reorganize the department, is he going to completely get rid of it?

"Taking into account the successes of the magazine team," Christian continued meanwhile, "I believe we can make the rule less stringent since today's meeting is already full of exceptions." He glanced quickly at Justin's grandfather.

"Mr. Pitcher, I think you won't mind if the staff of the liquidated department can continue to work at the publishing house? Unfortunately, in this case, I, if the vote decides in my favor," the man did not forget to add importance to the present shareholders, who will eventually have the final word to say,

"I cannot provide them with the due shares of the magazine, but instead they will receive an increase in salary in the amount of twenty-five percent due to savings on the rent of the premises they previously occupied."

"The shares of the company we have been working on for three years are not comparable to the increase in salary that you are suggesting, Christian!" Catherine was indignant.

She and Barkens were sitting in the second row, since their stock of the shares was much less than that of the rest of those present.

"Miss Joyce, don't mislead your colleagues," Denver replied coldly. "With this added bonus, their salary will be greater than the monthly dividend you receive from the restaurant's stock. People will continue to work on what they are working on now, and at the same time they will receive more than they are receiving now.

At the same time, the company will save tens of thousands of dollars a year that would have to be spent on rent. I was in your department. All these plush sofas, hammocks and palm trees take up too much usable space."

"This is part of our corporate culture, Christian! You are not satisfied with our hammocks, but in the halls of the Pharaoh restaurant the interior is even more pompous! Why is our magazine worse than your catering ?!" 

Emily closed her eyes. Pissing Catherine Joyce off was a challenge, but Christian Denver did a great job.

"Fun meeting tonight, right? I surelly miss popcorn," Arthur Pitcher chuckled to the right of the girl. It seems that only this person could perceive this as an entertaining show.

"What do you think?" Emily asked him.

"Who? Me?" the man pretended to be surprised at the question, "I think I should ask Teresa to make spaghetti for dinner. Do you like spaghetti, Emily? I like it when there is a lot of parmesan and cream."

Emily blinked. The mischievous lights in the eyes of the boss's grandfather strove to jump out and start dancing on the table next to the girl.

God, Hayes, you've found someone to ask!

She turned her gaze to Denver, who was continuing the discussion with Catherine.

"Miss Joyce, in that case, I personally will give the order that any employee of the Pharaoh magazine can choose a table in one of the restaurant halls and use it as a workplace for a certain number of hours a week.

We will rebuild the vacated premises of the thirtieth department and make there a common coworking area with many individual workplaces, which the magazine's employees will also be able to use at a substantial discount."

Christian provided a complete financial model for their department's new project on the slide. He spoke about support programs for children from low-income families, open workshops for students, which will be held in the coworking space.

Emily would be lying if she said she didn't like his ideas. On the contrary, with each phrase, the man hammered his thoughts into the heads of the guests, like nails into the lid of a coffin.

The coffin of their own project.

If she were an outside observer who just needed to vote, then this would be a real dilemma.

Denver's project could be summed up in one phrase: minimum cost for maximum benefit. The perfect blend of business and strategy. Clear planning without the disadvantage of unpredictability.

Cold calculation without unnecessary emotions. A goal without a dream.

"You know, this is the first time this boy is using the social aspect in his work," Mr. Pitcher said thoughtfully. "Usually in his presentations there are only numbers, numbers, numbers. And now, look, he even thought about children and students. Why would he?"

"Maybe he just reconsidered his attitude towards people?" Emily suggested.

Arthur shrugged, "Or maybe he met someone who made him do it."

The girl turned her gaze to the presentation on the screen. She looked at graphs and charts, but she was not interested in data. Data are metrics that people are the source of.

I had relatives, but I did not know what a family was. So he told her before he took the stage.

He accepted her project with his mind, but his heart remained tightly closed.

"Justin, is the broadcast on?" Emily glanced at Evans. He was standing behind everyone, leaning his back against the wall and watching what was happening. As the most interested person, he had no right to take part in the discussion.

The girl saw his lips move, through the earpiece in her ear, she heard his voice, "Yes, dear. Everything is going according to plan. In two minutes Denver will finish his speech and we will have half an hour to lure the shareholders over to our side."

Emily rested her elbows on the table, clasped her palms together and covered her mouth so that others would not see her talking. Her gaze was directed towards the stage.

"I have an idea. It's quite risky, but I think it might work. Is the team of programmers in touch? "

"Yep, always here," answered another male voice, in which the girl recognized the voice of the main developer of their application.

"Jim, how many people are watching the broadcast?"

"About three hundred thousand," he replied.

"Thank you," Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Hayes, you're crazy for doing this.

"Denver has finished. I'm going back to the stage," Justin whispered.

Emily straightened up. She had the last trump card, but she decided to use it differently than they agreed.

"Mr. Denver, thank you for presenting your vision for the project. I'm sure shareholders will be able to objectively evaluate the ideas presented today," Justin shook hands with Christian. "If no one has any questions, then I will announce a half-hour break, after which the voting will begin."

"I have a question," Emily held up her hand.

The corners of Christian's lips curved slightly.

"Mr. Denver, I understand correctly, do you think that a well-planned system without minimal risks will give more value than an ambitious plan, the implementation of which is in question?" Emily's voice was calm, she weighed every word, as if choosing a skillful bait to capture a wild beast.

"Yes, I think so."

"What if I prove that you are wrong? If I show you how you can shorten the first stage from six months to thirty minutes, will this be a weighty argument for reconsidering your opinion?"

"What do you mean?" the cold mask on the man's face quivered, interest immediately flashed in his eyes.

Emily rose from her seat and walked slowly towards the stage. Her every step was filled with confidence and nobility. Like a true queen who was returning to her throne after a short walk.

She stopped in front of Christian and held out her hand, "I'm offering you a bet."

The man looked at the girl's outstretched palm, "And what are the conditions of the bet, may I ask?"

Emily smiled, "No. You can take a chance or refuse. You have twenty seconds to make a decision."

"What if I refuse?"

"You will not refuse." She saw the growing curiosity in the man's eyes.

If this had been their first meeting, Emily would never have allowed herself such insolence. But she has met Denver three times already. And for some reason she was sure that in her case, he would agree to this game.

Just like how she came to him, having received a mysterious message in the form of a golden dragon, knowing nothing about what was waiting for her. So he will not refuse such an opportunity to step on her territory in complete ignorance. It was a game they were playing together.

"How can you be so sure that I will agree, Miss Hayes?" Christian smiled. He thought the same thing as she did.

Emily swept her gaze across the room, lingering at the statues where small cameras were mounted.

Then she turned to the man, shrugged her shoulders and answered with a smile, "I don't know. Probably because I am Alpha. Alpha Dragon. So... are we playing?"

Denver chuckled, reached out, and squeezed the girl's hand.