Page 45 of Takeover-
“The router?”
“The company. He’s been there since day one.” Sam felt Greta’s attention shift and looked over to meet her stare. “He can be an ass, but can’t we all? He’s good, G. You’ll like him.”
She studied Michael again. “That’s what I’m here to find out.”
They settled in to watch the presentation. He and Michael had spent the last day in the office going over the slides. Michael had insisted they strip out anything remotely marketing-esque. Sam balked, but in the end, if this were to be Michael’s talk, it had to contain what he wanted, not what Sam thought sounded good.
The resulting presentation—lecture, in reality—was deeply technical. Within the first ten minutes, all the marketing folks slinked out of the room, but Greta leaned forward. She kept nodding her head as Michael talked.
Good.A flood of calm eased Sam’s muscles. Greta would be an excellent ally for Michael, and like-minded when it came to technology. Sam suspected they also had similar thoughts on how to run a team, if his memory of her organizing labs was anything to go by.
Michael would be in fine hands and have a fantastic advocate within Sundra, which is just what he needed. He would be safe and have the room he needed to grow into the leader he could be—that he was—and given a title to match.
Sam’s serenity shattered. He was saying good-bye. To the job. To Michael. Handing him over to Sundra. The realization punched him in the stomach. He nearly bent over and did suck in a bit of air. Not yet. He didn’t want to leave Michael yet.
He couldn’t stay. That was the nature of what he did. He never stayed. Never made attachments to a place. A company. A man.
Staying would mean… quitting. Failing. Leaving his career behind. He might as well come out at that point, the result would be the same. Would that be so bad, though? Sam shivered. For him? Maybe, maybe not. He doubted anyone would take a swipe at him now. And he was so screwed in the head lately, he wasn’t sure he cared.
But for Michael? It might be disastrous. Sleeping with the boss? No one would respect Michael, whether they cared about his sexuality or not.
Michael moved in front of the slide about one of the draft protocols and explained why one implementation was preferable to another. Hands went up—questions. Answers. Small arguments. Michael handled it beautifully. Every so often, his jacket opened to reveal the long black braces Sam wanted to grasp and use to pull their bodies together. A flash of silver glinted at Michael’s wrist when he gestured at a slide.
An exceptional man.
Sam had been lucky their paths had crossed, but if he lingered, if he continued to twist his own rules, he’d break to pieces what they were trying to build at Four Rivers.
Employees shouldn’t get fucked by their CEOs. And that’s what everyone would see if he stayed, even if the reality were the opposite.
He had to let Michael go. There’d be no coffee in the morning because there’d be no tonight. The best thing—thelevel-headedcourse of action—would be to stay apart.
Not just a blow to the gut, but a series of them, each worse than before.
Sam leaned back, forced himself to relax, and schooled his expression. He caught Greta’s glance from the corner of his eye, but didn’t turn. Instead, he followed Michael’s movements, the dance of his hands, the flow of his pants as he walked, the expanse of his shoulders. Sam memorized the sound of Michael’s voice, the depth of it, the cadence, like water flowing down a street of cobblestones.
The person most dangerous to the future of Four Rivers now was Sam. Time to fire himself from Michael’s life.
