Page 55 of Takeover
“The hell you don’t.” Fire in Michael’s words, in the way he crossed his arms. He looked down at Sam. “You take a gamble with other people’s lives, their careers, every time you walk into a company. It’s not like you risk your own hide, no matter what you said in that speech.”
Words caught in Sam’s throat, along with his own anger. He pushed them out. “I know I’m an asshole. I’m a corporate money-taking jerk of a suit. If I fail and a company tanks, I get to walk away with a wad cash and I don’t have to think about anyone I leave behind.” He swallowed. “I’m not that all the time. I wasn’t that person this time. But yes, I am when I need to be. Is that really the person you want to be with? Because that’s who I am on the other side of that door.”
God knew what Michael was thinking now. He’d gone from concerned to angry to unreadable. He had relaxed a bit, though. “Do you like being that person?”
Sam didn’t look away. “On occasion. I’m not… I’m far from perfect. I can be quite an ass.”
“Yeah, I remember. Youdidthreaten to fire me if I got in your way.” Pain in Michael, and wariness.
That was exactly what Sam wanted to avoid. But he supposed he deserved it in this case. “If I had known your history, I wouldn’t have.”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Michael ran a hand through his hair and looked around the room. “Look, maybe you should go.”
Sam’s heart froze. He couldn’t move. “What?”
Michael bent down and started collecting the pieces of the suit he’d been wearing. “All I wanted was a couple of normal dates, some time to figure out all of this, see if it would work beyond the office. A movie. A bike ride. Something other than fucking you in a shower at the office.” He picked up the riding crop and tossed it into his duffel bag. “But if I’m not worth the risk to you, if you’re not willing to put anything on the line, then that’s that. You can say anything you’d like, but it’s actions that count.”
Cold fear punched a hole in Sam’s stomach. Every damn thing Michael said was correct. “I’m trying to protect you.” The words sound feeble, even to him.
“Oh, bullshit.” Michael flung the nipple clamps into his duffel bag. “You tell me how you’d move the stars if you could, except you can if you want to.” He turned to face Sam. “Which means you don’t want to and I was just a fun diversion for you while you were here.”
“That’s—that’s not how it is.” God, he was going to lose him. Probably had.
“Then how is it?”
He couldn’t answer, couldn’t fit the words around the memory of bruises and whispers and those fucking nights they’d sent hookers to his room.
Michael turned away. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this again. At least with Rasheed, I understood.”
The pain in Sam’s gut folded him over. “I’m terrified,” he whispered.
Michael’s feet came into view, then his knees. Then his strong, warm hands tilted Sam’s head until they were eye to eye. Michael knelt on the floor in front of Sam. Amazingly, there was still no sign of pity in the long lines of concern in Michael’s face. “Of what?”
“That there isn’t anything beyond the CEO anymore. If I stop running, it’ll all crumble away—not just the career, but me too. Because there isn’t anything else there to find.” He shook. It might have been from the cool air in the hotel room. Probably not. He hated this—the wrenching in his heart, the memories. All of it.
It needed to stop.
Michael brushed a thumb over Sam’s cheek. “Sam, did you ever talk to anyone about that night?”
“Oh, hell, no.” Sam choked a laugh. “Just ran. Kept running. Nothing to tie me down.” Sam uncurled and looked up. “Know any good therapists?”
Michael’s deft fingers caressed the back of Sam’s neck. “Several.” His smile was thin, but real. He gave a halfhearted shrug. “I was a wreck after Rasheed and Susan left. It was either a good therapist or a lot of alcohol.” He paused. “And I don’t like being that out of control.”
Neither did Sam. But here he was, spiraling into the unknown. Might as well keep going. He exhaled a long, shuddering breath. “I haven’t signed the contract yet. For Boston.”
Hope lit Michael’s face for a moment. “Will you?”
After all this, Michael still wanted him? “I don’t know. I need you so badly. I broke every single rule I have to be with you. Hell, I shouldn’t have even said yes in Curaçao. Should have sent back the drink.”
“I have no regrets.” Michael’s smile and tone confirmed that.
“Neither do I. And I should. That’s part of what terrifies me.”
Michael let go and sat back. But his expression was thoughtful, so Sam pressed down the slight panic at the loss of his touch.
After a moment, Michael spoke. “Maybe it’s time to find out who you are when you stop running. Make a stand. Not for me. Not for Sundra, but for yourself.” The corner of Michael’s mouth lifted into a smirk. “Lead by example, you could say.”
Sam couldn’t help the choke of laughter. His words, thrown back at him. Maybe there was something under Randell Anderson after all. “Jerk.” He didn’t put an ounce of malice behind the word.
