Page 38 of Conflict
SITTING THROUGHour Friday afternoon meeting is torture. All I can see is Shane. All I can think about is Shane. It’s killing me not to ask Cheyenne about him, and I’m about to break my promise to myself of not Googling the location of Wellington Enterprises so maybe I can pop in and say…Sorry for leaving after you banged the hell out of me?
I sigh, immediately feeling the tip of a pen poking my thigh. I jerk and find Bryan nodding in the direction of the door. My cheeks flush when I see Mr. Archibald Wellsley, founder of Wellsley-Callahan and current member of the board. My eyes widen at Bryan, and I sit up straighter.
In all of my years at WC, I’ve never met the man. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him other than in an occasional official company brochure.
Up close, Mr. Wellsley is an imposable man. Even though he’s in his mid-sixties, he could pass for younger. His skin is tanned probably from time spent playing golf, but it’s not leathery from years’ worth of exposure. His hair is an amazing black with specks of gray and white throughout. He almost reminds of Tom Selleck, except that his mustache actually turns into a goatee. Even though I’ve seen pictures, he’s not quite what I expected from a “crusty old coot,” as Bryan likes to call him.
“I don’t believe introductions are necessary,” he greets the room.
Cheyenne’s eyes catch me from across the table and she rolls them. As much as I want to grin, I’m too intimated by the man standing at the head of the room, so I bite my cheek to keep from smiling.
Thank goodness, because apparently Cheyenne’s cheekiness hasn’t gone unnoticed. “And you are?” he asks, tapping the table and glaring daggers at her.
Bryan leans in close and whispers in an alarmingly convincing stodgy British accent, “I wouldn’t have presumed introductions were necessary.”
I can’t help it. The laughter bubbles up, and just as it comes out, I cough so it kind of sounds like I’m choking. Ever the friend, Bryan smacks me on my back to make it believable. Cheyenne’s shoulders shaking, and Mr. Wellsley is grinning.
“My apologies. Uh, water, went down the wrong way.”
“Hmm,” Mr. Wellsley hums. “If you’re all quite finished…”
He launches into a fifteen-minute tirade lauding his accomplishments at acquisitions over the past three decades and how, even though he’s no longer CEO, he’s still a high-ranking member of the board. Basically, he’s telling us he’s in control, regardless of his title. I’m not sure what the point of this spiel is…and then he gets right to it.
“This acquisition will set Wellsley-Callahan on the map for decades to come. There is notryingto win. There’s only winning. If Wellington Enterprises lands this account, you’re all fired.”
I suck in a deep intake of breath. Well, crap on a cracker. So much for looking Shane up. I mean, of course, unless they win and I’m suddenly jobless. But then he’d think I’m only there for a job, so basically, I’ve just been backed into a lose-lose or win-lose situation.
What the hell am I going to do?
And like a white knight riding in on a steed, Sawyer walks into the room. “Can it, Wellsley. You’re on the board, not in the H.R. department. Stop threatening the staff or else I’ll revoke your access to such meetings.”
“How dare you speak to me that way. You are not your father,” Mr. Wellsley sneers.
Part of me wants to sink into the floor and disappear. The other part of me wants to watch the standoff with popcorn.
Sawyer’s lips curl up in a half smile. “You’re right, Wellsley. I’m not my father, and you’d do best to remember that.”
“God, he’s so sexy when he’s in boss mode,” Cheyenne whispers.
Sawyer gives her a pointed look, and she bites her lip. Holy moly.
I turn to Bryan. “Did he just reprimand her with his eyes?”
Bryan groans his affirmation. “Welcome to the top floor, Alyssa. Never a dull moment.”
“Can he really fire us?” I whisper back.
“Doubt it. But if we don’t want to find out, we better not let Wellington win.”
And just like that, any hope of running into Shane, albeit naturally or from me just falling into the Wellington lobby, flies out the window, heads upwards, out of the atmosphere and into space.
That whole saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder?
Yeah, I’m quickly learning just how damn accurate it is.
I’m pacing my apartment, still stewing over the meeting, when a knock breaks me from my thoughts. When I open the door, the sight of my sister surprises me.
“What are you doing here, Ari? We don’t have plans tonight, do we?” I check my watch for the date, wondering if, in all of my commiserating, I’d forgotten something.
