Page 66 of Takeover-
Sam nearly choked on his coffee. “Sundra has Four Rivers. I saw you sign the paperwork myself. I can’t deliver something you gave away.”
“I mean I want the office. To manage.”
The position that was Michael’s to take. That should have been Michael’s from day one.Shit.“You don’t know the first thing about routing. Or engineering.”
“I don’t need to. All I need to know is how to get people to work. I’ve done that. This deal is proof.”
And how to syphon funds. Sam didn’t crush the paper cup in his hand. For one, it still contained good coffee. He drank the remains. “I’m not so sure Sundra sees it that way.” Hell, if Four Rivers had followed William’s plan, only the intellectual property would be on the market, not the talent. Sundra wouldn’t have bought.
“That’s where you come in. You’re going to recommend me.”
Like hell. More like drop enough paperwork at Sundra legal to bury William. “Why would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t I’ll let everyone know what kind of man Sebastian is. How the upstanding, well-loved Mike bent over to get ahead in his career.”
Sam’s heart stuttered and the cold edge of fear surged in. All thoughts of handing William over to Sundra faded.Shit.
Michael didn’t deserve to have his name dragged through the mud because Sam had lost discretion. Even if Michael were right about Pittsburgh and how well the community knew him, companies would notice. The scandal would limit his career choices. And Sundra was larger than just Pittsburgh.
There was something worse than being gay in business—cocksucking your way up the ladder. That it was Sam who ended up with a dick in his mouth didn’t matter. Everyone would assume the other way around.
It would destroy Michael.
“What happens if you get what you want?” It was a sign that Sam had caved, but he had to know.
William grinned, his teeth too white. “Your friend Mike keeps his job. You leave town. Everyone’s happy.”
Not acceptable. Nor was punching William in the face. Sam chewed on his tongue and said words that tasted of bitter, bitter defeat. “Let me have some time to consider.”
All fang and gloat, William had the aura of a predator with his muzzle in a kill. “You had better make up your mind by lunch, because you’re going to give a glowing recommendation to Dr. Malik then.” William picked up his coffee and walked toward the conference area. “See you later, Randell.”
Sam remained, planted on the spot of carpet, ice running in his veins. That gave him less than three hours to figure out some way out of this mess. All he wanted to do was run out the door.
What the hell do I do now?
Every answer he came up with was a bad choice that led to a broken career or broken heart.
Or both.
* * *
Michael shookGreta’s hand and some of the tension he’d carried since following her into the small conference room slipped away. “Thank you very much. I hope I meet your expectations.”
The talk—interview in reality—had gone well, though Greta had caught him somewhat off-guard with years’ worth of his goals and evaluations and project notes. Sundra had been busy and taken an unusual interest in the folks at Four Rivers. That was good—better than he had expected. It meant what Sam had implied was true—Sundra wanted more than just the software and hardware. They wanted the brains behind those as well.
“If the work you’ve done over the past seven years is any indicator, you’ll exceed them.” Greta gathered the spread of papers she’d laid out over the conference room table. “We’re glad to have you on board.”
What they wanted from him was straightforward—and essentially what he had done back when Susan had been CEO. Oversee all the projects at the office, coordinate the different teams. Be the person who orchestrated development. It would mean handing over the management of testing to someone else—he would miss that—he’d built a good team in the past four years. But to be involved from the ground up again? He wanted that—had for years. It’s what the board—and Rasheed and Susan—had taken from him.
And yes, technically he’d be a suit. He’d also have the title that should have been his ages ago—Vice President of Routing Development—but Sundra had a very lax dress code. The actual suit was optional; he could still dress like it was five o’clock somewhere.
There was one thing he had to ask, though. “How much of this was Sam’s idea?”
Greta stacked her papers and slipped them into an attaché case. A small smile curled the edge of her lips, then vanished. “Very little. He recommended you, but we do our own diligence. You’re not the only person we looked at. Whether or not Sam had said anything, you would have risen to the top of our list.”
More knots loosened in his shoulders.
Greta picked up her case, then opened the door and gestured for him to proceed her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve worked with Sam. It’s a shame he’ll be moving on.”
