Page 60 of Marrying the Billionaire

“Something like that.” I’m not explaining to our Chief of Operations what’s going on at home.

“I’ve been looking at the list of employees Montague Media sent over trying to decide which departments to combine, who’ll be made redundant, all that kind of stuff. Can you crunch some numbers and figure out who we can afford to keep?”

“Will do.”

While I’d normally pass that off to someone lower on the chain, I have a newfound interest in this buyout and Montague Media’s finances in particular. I can’t get over the fact that Greg Montague is selling off his daughter’s designer clothes. The net proceeds would have to be miniscule compared to what he’ll make from the sale of his company.

There’s more idle chitchat around the boardroom table as we wait for Dad, who’s usually last to arrive at these monthly chief meetings, but as the most important man here, I guess he can come whenever he wants.

It still seems rude to make everyone wait.

He enters a few minutes later, the mood of the room shifting as he settles at the head of the table and the meeting commences. Legal has their presentation first, and I find my mind drifting to what I might discover tonight when I return home. Will she visit my office again for a massage, or is that over now that the dynamic between us has changed? I’ve actually been looking forward to them. And what she wears along with it.

Something niggles at the edge of my conscience from this morning, something about…

Oh God, I told her I’d buy her more lingerie, didn’t I? No wonder she said I could touch her if I was coming on to her like that.

“Archer?”

I glance up, finding everyone’s eyes on me. I didn’t say that part out loud, did I?

I clear my throat, sitting up straighter in my seat. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I don’t even know who asked the question.

“Give him a break,” our Chief of Communications says kindly. “He’s still in his honeymoon phase.”

There’s a quiet ripple of good-natured laughter, and my eyes flick to Dad, who’s very decidedly not laughing, his ice-blue gaze zeroed on me. “Dave requested next quarter’s projected numbers.”

“Right.”

I answer the question and stay attentive for the remainder of the meeting, not letting my mind wander to anywhere it’s not supposed to be.

“Archer, a word,” Dad commands as everyone takes their leave at the end. I linger behind, receiving a few sympathetic glances from the others. That tone of voice is never good.

He steeples his hands. “You can’t be off your game in front of the other chiefs. You need to show leadership and initiative, not ineptitude.”

My teeth grind. “I missed one question and then answered it after Dave repeated it.”

“You’re the future leader of Bishop Industries. Don’t make them doubt your place at this table. Don’t make me doubt it.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the fact that all I’ve done the last week and a half is bust my ass for this company, but instead of keeping my mouth shut like I should, I argue back. “I’ve been with Bishop Industries for ten years. I’ve worked every position within my department on my way up the ladder. Everyone here knows how hard I work. That I’m more than capable of performing my job, regardless of being your son. And besides that, I just saved the deal you wanted so bad. I deserve credit, not chastisement.”

I’d questioned my level of fulfillment the other day, but I can at least say with no qualms that I do my job admirably.

He stares at me, silent, but I hold my ground, refusing to apologize for my outburst. If he wants me to be a leader, I’ll damn well act like one.

“Why were you yawning?”

What? Why does that matter? “Serena kept me up.”

I realize my mistake as soon as the words leave my mouth,

“Do you know why I picked Gabriel for her to marry?” His icy gaze narrows on me. “Because I didn’t care what happened afterward. But I don’t need you distracted by this girl. Remember, it’s a business arrangement.”

“I’m not distracted. Just tired. I’m allowed to be tired every once in a while.”

“Then go to bed earlier,” he snaps. “And don’t let her affect your work.”

He stands and walks out of the room, leaving me silently fuming. That’s it? He couldn’t say anything about my past decade of performance within the company? The level of respect I’ve gained from the people here? A belated thank you for keeping the buyout of Montague Media in play?

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