$7.3 billion. That was the final closing agreement for the complex multi-corporation dual merger and acquisition case he’d devoted the last five months of his life to. Taking a deep breath, he sat at his desk and waited for the pumping adrenaline to subside, stared out the window even though he was too keyed up to really see anything. Absently, he reached over and flicked the little stress reducing toy Abby had given him last week—a weird little monster with wobbly arms, crazy troll hair, and a suction base that kept it secured to his desk so he could flick its googly-eyed head whenever he got stressed. It didn’t go at all with his office décor, and yet he found himself keeping it front and center next to his phone on his executive mahogany desk. Because it was weird, just like Abby. And that’s why he loved it. No woman he’d dated in the past would’ve gone to the trouble of looking up the 1971 Charger to learn more about it.
