Page 23 of Takeover
Sam let go of the chip that had lodged itself on his shoulder. “I was recovering from the board meeting.”
“Ah, yes. Suit food. I saw the remnants of upper-crust fruit salad in the lunchroom. Someone claimed there had been lobster rolls, but they were gone by the time I got there.”
Michael’s sneering tone was so blatant, Sam tasted the bitterness on his tongue. “There were three left, I think.” He headed for the door, adjusting his tie as he walked. “So sorry you didn’t get one,Mike.”
“Sam.”
He stopped, despite himself.Damn it all to hell.Michael would always be there, under his skin. It took more effort than Sam expected not to turn around. “Yes?”
“The meeting? How’d it go?”
He didn’t want to have this conversation now, not with his head throbbing and heart threatening to beat its way out of his rib cage. “As well as could be expected.” He reached for the door handle.
“Did they accept our plan?”
Our plan.As if they’d actually talked these past few weeks, rather than communicated by group e-mail. Sam brushed the smooth, cool, silver finish of the handle with his fingertips. Freedom lay beyond the door. He let his arm fall to his side. “Of course they didn’t,” he said, turning around. “You know how these things go.”
Michael’s face was a mask. “What did you agree to?”
“Three weeks.”
“God damn it, Sam! Four was barely acceptable. Three?”
Michael’s outburst only increased the ache in Sam’s head. “Three. Plus the draft protocols will be beta, so you don’t have to worry about those.”
Michael didn’t say anything for a moment, though his jaw worked. “You threw us under the bus. So much for all your promises.”
Every muscle in Sam’s body tightened. The pounding in his head matched his heart—too damn fast. Calm snapped like brittle wood and he pulled himself to his full height. “Stop being so fucking melodramatic. I don’t have time for this shit.”
Sam might as well have slapped Michael. His face reddened and he took a step back.
There was a certain grim satisfaction in that.Yes, I can be the suit you so hate. Surprise. “Three weeks,” Sam repeated. “Can you accept this?”
“I—don’t know.”
That was a pity. Sam liked Michael—too much. Missed their budding friendship horribly. The days weren’t as bright without Michael’s smile. Sam only had himself to blame for that. Had he been able to keep his needs in check, they wouldn’t be at this moment. The shower had been a disaster. The tightness in Sam’s chest twisted and stabbed, turning his words to gravel. “Then I’ll find someone who can.”
Michael wavered, then reached out and grabbed the server rack. “Are you firing me?”
“Not yet.” Sam didn’t look away. “But I will, if you get in the way of me protecting the ‘great and wickedly smart’ people who work for you.”
“You call this protecting them?” Michael let go of the rack and took a step forward. “Undercutting their time? Setting them up for an impossible task?” His voice boomed in the small room.
Sam didn’t wince, though the sound sent light flashing across his vision. “Once you’re finished being irate and you have two brain cells to rub together again, consider this—I got you three weeks when I knew you needed four. What do you think William wanted?” Sam watched Michael for a long moment, memorizing the play of expressions that passed over his face, then Sam turned and pulled open the server room door. He was most of the way down the hall before it thumped closed.
His lungs barely worked and people stepped out of his way as he passed. Too many.You’re a mess. Slow down. School your expression. He didn’t—couldn’t. The utter look of betrayal, of shame, he’d seen on Michael’s face bored into his skull with the same efficiency as the migraine.
Once in his office, he closed the door, then leaned his forehead against its cool surface.
He should have known better. No friends. No lovers—especially no lovers. This job precluded all of that because it required ruthlessness and precision. He could be fair and even kind, but attachment led to failure. For the sake of all Four Rivers employees, he had to succeed at this venture—their livelihoods depended on that. If it meant losing Michael? Well, in business, no one was irreplaceable.
No one.
Even the one man he most wanted to keep.
Chapter Four
An hour later,Sam slipped out of his office and took the long way around to the lunchroom—the route that wouldn’t take him anywhere near Michael’s cube. Sam didn’t want to chance a run-in with Michael, but sulking in his office hadn’t improved his dry throat or pounding head. With any luck, there were still a few free cans of soda—or “pop” as Michael called it—in the fridge.
