I drummed my fingers against the arm of my chair, making sure to hide the movement under the table so that the rest of them did
n't see. I knew that George already disliked me and didn't think that I was fit to be a co-owner of the company. There wasn't much that they could do about it unless they wanted to dissolve the entire company and cease to call themselves Sunshine, which would be a pretty stupid move for them given all the work we'd put into building up that name. Thank God for the legal advice that we'd got when we had first created the company; the contract terms that we'd entered were saving my skin at this point.
They needed me as the face of the company, anyway. None of them were fit for that job.
“In other news,” George said, his voice monotonous and droning as ever, but he looked sharply up at me, and I figured I'd better pay attention to whatever this was. His eyes narrowed. “We haven't seen you on the news for a week, by my count. That must be some sort of a record.” The sneer in his voice was obvious, and I couldn't help clenching my fingers around the arms of my chair.
“What I do in my private life is, as always, none of your business,” I said, even though we'd had this argument a hundred times before. And where I was partially right, I could see their side of it too. I just hated to admit it, which I never would.
“Except for when it affects business,” Alex exploded. “Which-”
“Which, there's no evidence that it does,” I interrupted loudly. I shoved my chair back roughly. “Jesus, way to ruin a perfectly good Friday afternoon.”
“Come on, guys,” Paul said, ever the voice of reason. “Is there any other business news that you'd like to discuss?” No one said anything for a long moment. “All right, then let's adjourn, finish up whatever last-minute paperwork we have to get done, and go home for the weekend. I'll see you all on Monday morning. Remember that we have that magazine coming through the office to take pictures, so try to clean up your desks as much as you can.”
He directed that last bit at Alex, who was notoriously messy, and although I was kind of grateful to hear him snip at someone else, it didn't change what George had said about me. How unprofessional did you have to be to bring something like that up in the middle of a company meeting? Even if it was only the four of us in there, and even though we'd all been working together for the past ten years now.
George caught my arm as we filed out of the conference room, and I fought the urge to deck the guy right then and there. “Maybe try to make it another week with good behavior, and we'll give you a gold star,” he said snidely.
“George,” Paul said reprovingly. He grabbed the back of my suit jacket, though, and I knew that was a warning not to engage.
George rolled his eyes and stalked off. “Come on,” Paul said, tugging me back into the conference room.
“Paul, I don't want to have some stupid conversation about my conduct,” I told him. The shit was getting old. I wasn’t going to keep my dick in my pants. There was no fucking way. “You have no right to judge me, no more than the rest of them do.”
Paul gave me a look. It was one I’d seen a million times before. “Christian, when have I ever judged your behavior?” he asked. “Take a deep breath and talk rationally to me.”
I frowned, but I did take that deep breath, trying to quit shaking with rage. “They're such-”
“I know,” Paul said, holding up a hand to stall me. He smiled a little and dropped into a seat, kicking out the one next to his and gesturing for me to sit as well. “It's been a while since we caught up. I know the Great Christian Wall has plenty of other things to do with his time, but I do think I merit a conversation occasionally.”
I snorted. “You know where my office is,” I reminded him. “It's a two-way street, buddy. Bring your ass down there sometime.”
“This is true.” He smiled and changed the subject. “So, tell me, what are your plans for the holidays, anyway?” Paul asked. “The office will be closed for nearly three weeks; I assume you'll be jetting off to somewhere in Europe?”
“I might,” I said, shrugging, and I clasped my hands over my upper stomach. “I haven't made any plans yet. Jamie and I were talking about doing another ski vacation, but I'm also drawn to someplace warmer this year. I don't know. We'll see. You know I hate making plans too far in advance. People would think I was growing responsible or something crazy like that. Being someone who flies by the seat of their pants instead of being a planner takes work. Believe me.” I gave a quirky smile.
He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re too much, man. So, what are your plans tonight? You wanna grab dinner? We'll charge it to the company. Call it a business expense.”
I laughed. “As though either of us needs to do that.” I shook my head. “Unfortunately, I have other plans for later, so I'll have to take a rain check. There's this hot new club downtown, and they've personally invited me.”
“Ah,” Paul said. “At the risk of sounding like George or the rest of them, be careful.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, always am,” I said, even though we both knew it wasn't exactly true. Being careful sounded about as fun as having the flu.
I tried to forget about the whole afternoon when I got to the club that night, but no matter how slick the place was, no matter how many pretty girls there were, I just couldn't seem to let it go. It was the patronizing tone, more than anything. The fact that George thought he could tell me to be on my best behavior for another week, as though he were my parent or something. We were all in this together. He wasn't that much older than me, even. And he had no right to speak to me like that in front of the other owners of our company.
I slugged back another drink and flagged down the bartender for another. I could see a bit of nervousness in her eyes already like she thought I was maybe drinking a bit too much and was getting ready to cut me off.
I gave her a charming smile and leaned over the bar. “Darling, trust me,” I drawled, reaching out to squeeze her hand, making her giggle a little. “I do this every week. More than every week.”
“Yeah, okay,” she said, shaking her head. “But if anything happens to you, it's going to be on my head! I just got this job; I don't want to lose it on opening night.”
“You won't,” I told her, projecting an air of flippant confidence that seemed to reassure her.
“All right,” she said, pouring me another whiskey.
I turned away from her and scanned the crowd, picking out my target for the night. She had shown up with a few of her friends, and she had to be a model or something like that. God, she was gorgeous: porcelain skin and short, spiky hair that emphasized the heart-shaped nature of her face. And her heels were a mile high. As I looked over, she was laughing at something her friend had said, tossing her head back. I smiled; I liked a girl who could laugh.