And this is just day one.
Fuck.
I can’t help my smile shortly after our meeting when Tobias walks into the office across the hall from mine. Floor to ceiling windows creates no barrier, giving us little privacy so he can’t, at all, avoid seeing me during working hours. I feel his hesitation as Shelly guides him through the set-up of his workstation. I feel a lick of heat from his stare before he finally takes his seat. Transitioning from corporate to employee-owned isn’t a matter of signatures or a one and done. It will take weeks of careful planning to work out the details, and I plan on using the time wisely.
He can’t avoid me. But he’s damn sure going to try. Hours later, we duel on our keyboards, and every so often, I feel the lift of his head and the weight of his stare. He’s been listening to my phone conversations all day, his door open. I have loose ends to tie up before I can entirely hand the business over to Collin, who also isn’t speaking to me. He’s had his assistant email me with questions about the pressing matters. And I get it. I understand. But it still stings.
Ryan has been planted in the office next to me for most of the day, and the crackle I feel brewing only intensifies as the hours pass. But I forge on, intent on using all my tools to make the transition smooth and beneficial to the employees. Because I’ve been in their shoes, literally. Ryan heads to the breakroom for another cup of coffee when I crack my neck and look up to see Tobias working diligently on his laptop. His shoulders tense the minute he feels me eyeing him, but he keeps at a steady pace. He’s in a pinstripe suit today that makes him look regal, like an old-world gangster. It’s so fitting. He’s so perfectly manicured that he looks completely out of place in the dump we’ve been stationed in. The bottom floor has a distinct stench of mold, and the ceiling tiles are heavy with residual water and stained brown. I decide to shoot off an email to Shelly to see if we can find a little wiggle room in the budget for a cheap remodel. I’ve just sent it off when Ryan strides back into the office, our coffee forgotten.
“Cee, we got him. Jerry Siegal.” I wince as Tobias’s head snaps up from where he sits, and Ryan hands me his cell phone. I go to speak, but Ryan jerks his head insisting I put him on speaker.
“Hell no, I’m not missing this.”
And I can’t deny him this. We’ve been working on this for a solid year. Feeling the livid eyes of the man across the hall, I shake off the ill-feeling it gives, unwilling to let it get to me, and hit the speaker button.
“Jerry, how are you?”
“You fucking bitch,” he seethes on the other end of the line as Tobias stands and walks over to the doorway of my office. I turn my back on him and begin a slow pace behind my desk just as Shelly walks in with an arm full of folders.
“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Jerry. You’ll serve no jail time. You can take that neglected wife of yours on a long vacation. She seems to need it after what? Her second suicide attempt this year? You really should be spending more time at home.”
“I’m going to fucking end you, Horner.”
I glance at Tobias, whose eyes are blazing and smirk. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get in line, and it’s a long one. Growing by the minute.”
Ryan sits in the seat next to me, sporting a shit-eating grin as Jerry continues his tirade. “It’s not enough your snake of a father—”
I wave a hand though he can’t see me. “Roman saw you for the sucker you were and made moves on you because you were weak prey. So, instead of licking your wounds, being innovative, and coming back a more worthy adversary, you decided to one-up him and became even more of a waste of human space. I’m guessing your phone is lighting up right now with investors ready to back out. You might want to use this time wisely instead of making idle threats.”
“I’m going to—”
“Like I said, you’ll have to get in line.” I lay my hands on my desk and look directly at Tobias. “And let’s make one thing perfectly fucking clear. I am not my father, and I’m not his daughter and one more threat from you, and I’ll finish the job he failed to do.” I cut the line as Ryan shakes his head and stands, we exchange an amused look before bursting into laughter.
“We did it,” he says, beaming.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I reply. “All right, you know the drill. Just make sure we’re covered.”
“On it,” he says, pulling on his jacket. “And I’m going to grab us a bottle. Something fancy. That French wine you like. What’s it called?”