Page 21 of Takeover-
He curled his toes in his shoes because the board wouldn’t notice that.
Michael.
They still weren’t talking. Not since the shower. Just a word or two here and there. Terse e-mails about aspects of work, copied to the group. The lack of true communication hurt, in every way that was bad and far more than he thought possible. He didn’t know how to bridge the gulf that had formed between them. He missed Michael, his laugh, his grin, even his freaking parrot shirts. There was no color in Michael these days—only blues and blacks and grays.
William cleared his throat. “You’ve made good progress, Randell.”
He forced himself to relax and smile. “Thank you. The team has been giving it their all.” It wasn’t false flattery. The development and testing teams had succeeded in cleaning up the most egregious errors in the software they’d released. What remained was a set of new features their prospective buyer wanted in the product. Tricky, cutting-edge development. Hell, the IETF hadn’t even hammered out the new protocols yet. Lots of infighting among different companies.
From William’s expression, Sam knew there was a shoe dangling somewhere over his head.
“We are, however, concerned about the timeline going forward.”
And there it was, in all its hard-soled glory, falling right on schedule.
Sam let his smile fade away, but kept his expression neutral. “Concerned?”
The screen flashed up a slide with the schedule. It was aggressive, with the engineering team completing development of the new features, functional testing, and then regression testing, all in three months.
“We think you should be able to complete coding and testing in two months.” William tented his hands. Blond hair and blue eyes spoke of his Dutch ancestry, but there wasn’t any warmth at all in the man. There never had been, in all the time Sam had known the venture capitalist.
Two months. That nixed pretty much all of testing. “We can deliver the functionality in two. But unless you want the same debacle as last release, we need four weeks for testing.”
The rest of the members of the board shifted in their seats. Sam held himself still, but relaxed. This was not going well. Something else was afoot.
“Mike Sebastian’s estimates have always been conservative. He’s done the same amount of testing in less time. A week after code freeze should be enough.”
“Michael knows his job.” Far better than William did. Sam flattened his palm against the hard surface of the table. “A week isn’t enough time to find and fix bugs and perform regression testing.”
“Mike is known for his volatility. He inflates issues. Always complains about deadlines.” William smiled. “He’s a drama queen.” There was just a hint of emphasis on the last word. “Are you becoming like him, Randell?”
Sam’s blood ran cold. Those were loaded words—a hint William didn’t approve of Michael’s sexuality—and maybe more. Sam ignored the klaxon in the back of his mind. “A week isn’t enough, not for the complexity of the new features.”
“I’ll agree that it’s aggressive,” William said.
“It’s idiotic.” Dead silence in the room.
Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but what was done was done. And anger felt good—and was just as usable as calm. He rose from his chair. “If you want this release rock solid, then you need to give us the time. Maybe we can shave off a week, but four?” He shook his head.
“Two weeks,” William said. “No more.”
Still not enough time. “When you brought me in, you agreed to trust my judgment.”
William smiled and leaned back in his chair, as if he’d already won. “Or buy you out.”
Ice seeped deeper into Sam’s veins. They could. It was the ultimate threat. Pay him a hunk of cash and he’d be on to “spend more time with his family” or “pursue other opportunities.”
Where would Michael be then? Out of a job, along with the rest of the company, because it was obvious that William didn’t want a merger, he wanted to ditch the IP, take the cash, and run. But why? That made no business sense. No time to dwell on that mystery, though.
“I suppose you could get rid of me.” Sam slipped out from behind his chair and walked toward the front of the room. “Are you a betting man, William?” He knew the answer to that question. They’d been in Vegas together.
Sam’s movement forced William and the other board members to twist in their chairs to stay focused on him. It was an edge, a sliver of control.
“What are we wagering?” A mix of caution and excitement.
Hooked.
“Money. What else is there?” Sam stopped at the front of the room, behind William’s chair. “You—you all want to cash out of Four Rivers. Move on to new projects.” He gripped the back of William’s chair and rocked it slightly. “You can either cash out with a failed project—William’s preferred method—and get very little on your return, or trust me to deliver to you a product that will have Sundra Networks writing you a blank check.”
