Page 11 of Unlocking Melodies

My watch buzzed. Mia's first message of the day, right on schedule:

Mia

Business integration. Hayes & Reuben particularly vocal. Also, your coffee order changed again?

I finished my set before responding. Perfect form, controlled breathing, no sign of strain. Years of practice made it automatic.

Me

Coffee's fine. Schedule Hayes for lunch next week. Private dining room.

Old money respected old traditions. Hayes had been on the board since before I was born. He responded better to handshakes and eye contact than PowerPoint presentations.

The city was waking up around me as I moved to the treadmill. Six miles, exactly. Not because anyone was counting, but because everyone was always counting. The morning light caught the glass and steel of the tower's upper floors - my office now, though in my mind it would always be my father's. The reflection created a crown of light around the building's peak. Some architect probably thought that was clever. To me, it had always looked more like prison bars.

Mia

Your 8 AM called to confirm. Said her daughter's very excited to discuss ‘synergistic opportunities’.

Me

Cancel it.

Mia

Third time this month. People will talk.

Me

Let them. Reschedule with someone who actually wants to discuss business.

The elevator to my private suite was a marvel of engineering - smooth, silent, and completely isolated from the rest of the building. I adjusted my tie (designer brand of course, because Julia, my personal shopper, insisted it brought out my eyes), and pulled up the morning briefing on my tablet.

Three companies ripe for acquisition. All struggling with innovative products but poor management. All perfect additions to the Cole Tech portfolio. All probably employing people who would hate me by the end of the quarter.

Two PR situations that needed handling. A mid-level manager's inappropriate tweets and a potential leak about our quantum computing project. Nothing Mia couldn't handle, but everything required my sign-off these days.

And one very persistent venture capitalist who couldn't take a hint. Or several hints. Or a direct “no.”

The doors opened directly into my office suite, all glass and chrome and power disguised as minimalism. Mia stood from her desk, coffee in hand. After ten years as my EA, she'd perfected the art of appearing unimpressed by everything, including me.

“One pump vanilla, extra shot, 165 degrees,” she said, handing over the cup. “The Beijing team is waiting in the conference room. They've been up all night running numbers on the semiconductor deal.”

I took a sip. Perfect, as always. “Tell them fifteen minutes. I need to review their latest projections.”

“And your father called. Again.”

I kept walking toward my office. “Tell him that I was in a meeting.”

“You've been in meetings for three weeks.”

“I'm a busy man.”

“He's going to show up here eventually.”

“That's what security is for.”

She sighed that particular sigh she reserved for when I was being difficult. “He still owns forty percent of the company.”

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