Page 39 of Vicious Arrangement
Mark’s still here. So are some others.
Mark didn’t even ride me over work. He felt the need to make snide remarks about my being late and asked which socialite I was up with and who was next on the menu.
He shut up when Felicity, another exec, showed him the wedding photos on Instagram and some socials.
As she left the room, he muttered, “So that’s why you were a no-show on Thursday.”
I bit my tongue then, and I’ll bite it when I hand over the final changes in a few.
I tap my pen on the paper.
I’m more than aware of what this takeover is going to do. Good and bad. They go hand in hand. We buy them out, shore up the holes, take all the contracts and some staff that are worth taking, but…
Shit, I don’t let emotions interfere here. I don’t like them interfering in general.
If things are worse than the evaluations—and in my experience, they almost always are, a lot of people will be out of work, maybe even more than calculated. It’s what happens in buying out smaller, struggling companies.
But while I don’t have to like it, I don’t feel a thing about it. It’s easier that way.
Oscar used to let his fucking emotions, the ones he never had for me, get in the way of business and it showed.
We could have been even more successful.
But now I’m in charge.
Under my leadership, we will be. I’m fucking determined this company reaches its full potential and then some.
With a breath, I finish the annotations, add them to my file on the computer, and send it to my assistant and my other work folder, along with another to Asher, asking him to look over it from an IT perspective.
It doesn’t need that.
But regardless of what people think of me and my so-called hedonistic and reckless ways, I’m exceptionally careful. I’ve always mailed anything on paper that could be changed and faked to myself. Not that anyone here would do it, but old habits…
I drop it off to where Mark and Felicity are working in one of the conference rooms.
“Thanks, Noah,” she says, “this looks good.”
Mark takes it from her, reads through it scan-fast, and then drops it on the table. “See you for the meeting tomorrow. Don’t be late, Noah.”
And he leaves.
Felicity picks it up. “This could have waited?—”
“No, it couldn’t.” I glance after him. “You should go home.”
“We had work to finish up, that’s why we’re here. Don’t tell him I told you that. I know he rides you hard, but…”
“I’m the boss.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Go home. Either order in or take your partner out for a meal on us.” I hand her a company card, one of a few I keep on me for quick last-minute bonuses.”
“There’s five hundred to spend on that. So buy yourself something or have dinner.”
She blushes. “No, that’s?—”
“For a job well done. I trust I can leave this with you.”
