Page 2 of Thiago
“Good morning, sir,” Sam said, shooting Thiago a friendly smile.
“Good morning,” the other man said with less enthusiasm, his voice dull and defeated.
Thiago recognized him, though he didn’t know his name. He’d obviously come in early, making his way up to the top floor to have this meeting with his supervisor.
Thiago nodded at the men and continued down the hall as if he hadn’t heard their tense conversation. He pushed open one of the heavy double doors to his expansive office, which he’d created by merging two offices into one during a custom renovation.
The space was the epitome of sleek sophistication, perched high above the city with floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around two walls and flooding the office with natural light. Thedesign matched his office in Brazil, where he’d spent most of his professional career working in the consulting arm of Santana International.
The room was minimalist and masculine, with clean lines and polished concrete floors. The sitting area featured dark-brown leather chairs offset by colorful textured pillows, and a glass coffee table with a metal base in the middle of the grouping. Beyond that, a conference table made of smoked glass and brushed steel provided a dedicated space for high-level meetings.
Thiago placed his briefcase on his glass-topped executive desk, which was supported by a geometric chrome base. Using the remote control, he lowered the shades on the windows closest to him, effectively cutting off the sunlight pouring through and reflecting off the chrome accents in the room.
He sat in his leather chair and took time to skim messages for emergencies from other time zones overnight. When he didn’t see anything that needed his immediate attention, he picked up the phone and dialed Sam’s number.
“Yes, Mr. Santana,” the VP answered.
“I need to see you in my office,” Thiago said, hanging up without waiting for a reply.
Sam arrived right away, the same friendly smile on his face as he approached. Thiago didn’t have guest chairs in front of his desk because they encouraged people to sit and stay, which he wanted to discourage. He had a lot of work to do and didn’t like wasting time in pointless conversations.
He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. “Do you have children, Sam?”
Startled by the question, Sam’s eyebrows shot higher. “Me? Uh, yeah. A boy and a girl.”
“You love them?”
He laughed. “Yes, of course.”
“So if one of them were seriously ill, you would be a mess, wouldn’t you?”
He nodded vigorously. “Absolutely, I…” His voice trailed off as realization dawned.
Thiago deliberately let the seconds tick by without saying a word, observing the color in Sam’s cheeks go from pale to pink. “If someone on your team needs time off because their child is in the hospital, you do not threaten to dock their pay,” he said evenly.
Sam shifted on his feet. “H-he’s completely out of leave, Mr. Santana. He has no sick leave, vacation, or PTO left. It would be unfair to the rest of the staff if I allowed him to take approved time off. Going against policy would set a bad precedent.”
“Come to me if you are concerned about breaking the company policy. Explain the situation and advocate for your staff. I can override the manual, Sam,” Thiago said in a derisive tone.
The director swallowed, the color in his cheeks deepening as he became aware his response had reflected badly on him.
“Give him all the time he needs and make sure his paycheck stays the same. Understood?”
Sam gave a stiff nod. “Understood, sir.”
“Close the door on your way out.”
Thiago watched him walk out of the room with a lot less bounce in his step than when he first came in. When the door clicked shut, he shook his head in disgust. “And people sayI’man asshole,” he muttered before opening his laptop and diving into the day’s agenda.
He spent the next few hours working uninterrupted. By ten-fifteen, he had finished reading the morning reports and responding to electronic correspondence that had come in overnight. Taking a break, he stood and rolled his shoulders.Then he traversed the room, his footsteps muted by a plush charcoal rug grounding the central area.
He approached a double-door cabinet built into the wall, which blended into the surrounding paneling. Opening it revealed a stocked refreshment center with an array of premium bottled waters, protein bars, trail mix, and other snacks, along with a selection of the finest spirits, including the company’s premium tequila—Don Bene—named after his father.
He lifted out a protein bar and a small bottle of sparkling water, consuming them as he mentally reviewed the rest of the morning. In a few minutes, members of the marketing team would arrive to present their new ideas for the company’s tequila.
Anticipation hummed beneath his skin. Not only because he’d finally see the marketing proposal that could help him meet his second-quarter goals for the company, but also because he’d get his first glimpse of the woman who occupied way too much of his thoughts. His favorite distraction.
India Monroe.
