Chapter 81 Chapter81
The room went ice cold. My analysts held their breath. I didn't care. I didn't have the energy for pleasantries. Every second I spent in this chair was a second I wasn't thinking about Tessa, and yet, the ghost of her was still the only thing I actually felt. This woman in front of me was just a suit. A hurdle.
"The data shows a deficit in the East Coast hubs," she countered, sliding a tablet across the table.
I didn't touch the tablet. I didn't need to. I knew the numbers better than she did.
"Temporary," I said. "Corrected by Q4. Anything else?"
"We want a seat on the board," she pushed.
"No."
"It's standard for a merger of this…."
"Not this one." I stood up, buttoning my blazer. I didn't look at her face. I looked at the clock. "You have thirty minutes to review the revised terms I sent your office this morning. Sign them, or the deal is dead. I don't do second rounds." I said, turning my back on them.
"We haven't finished the presentation," one of her analysts moved to speak.
"You're finished when I say you are," I said without looking back. "You have twenty-nine minutes left."
I walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the grey Manhattan skyline. I could hear them whispering behind me, the frantic tapping of keys. To them, this was a career-defining moment. To me, it was just Monday.
She was efficient. I’d give her that. But she wasn't Tessa. She wasn't the woman I wanted sitting in that chair.
I checked my watch.
"Sign it," I heard her say to her lawyer. Her voice was sharp, annoyed, but professional.
She walked up beside me, though she kept a respectful distance. She didn't try to catch my eye. She didn't try to charm me.
"It's signed," she said.
"Good. Leave the hard copies with my assistant," I said, still looking at the rain. "We’re done here."
I didn't wait for her to say goodbye. I didn't wait for her to leave. I just stood there, a cold, empty shell of a man, waiting for the next distraction to keep the memories at bay.
The view from the sixty-eighth floor of Rhyland Global was supposed to be inspiring. To me, it was just a reminder of how high I could fall.
I stood at the window, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. Behind me, the heavy silence of the room was broken only by the rhythmic tapping of a keyboard from the office directly across the hall.
Sloane Garrison
She’s been here four days. My board had insisted on a "seamless integration period," which was just a fancy way of saying I had to babysit the woman whose company I’d just gutted. I’d given her the office with the glass walls. I wanted to see exactly what she was doing at all times. No secrets. No side deals.
I turned around and checked the clock. 10:00 AM. I walked out of my office; I didn't knock on the door. I just pushed it open.
She didn't look up from her monitor. She was focused, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. "You’re three minutes late for our stand-up, Mr. Rhyland."
"I don't do 'stand-ups.'" I said, my voice flat. I sat in the chair opposite her desk, not leaning back, my posture as rigid as the steel beams holding up this building. "Status on the logistics migration. Short version," I asked.
"Sixty percent mapped. The rest is pending your approval on the server consolidation," she said, finally looking at me. Her eyes were sharp, scanning my face for a reaction she was never going to get. "I sent the brief at 6:00 AM," she continued.
"I saw it. The cost-cutting measures are too soft. Cut another fifteen percent from the transport budget." I said,
"That would cripple the East Coast delivery window," she countered, her jaw tightening.
"Then find a more efficient route. You have forty-eight hours." I stood up to leave.
"We have a scheduled lunch with the department heads at noon," she called out before I reached the door.
I stopped, my back to her. "Eat without me."
"It’s a team-building exercise, Mr. Rhyland. The Nomad staff is nervous. They need to see the CEO," she said.
I turned my head just enough to catch her gaze in the reflection of the glass. "They don't need a friend. They need a paycheck. Tell them to work harder, and they won't have to worry about the 'nervousness.' Anything else?"
"You're impossible," she muttered, though it sounded more like a clinical observation than an insult.
"I'm effective," I corrected. "Be in the conference room at 2:00 PM for the audit review. Don't be late."
I walked back to my office and shut the door. I could see her through the glass, rubbing her temples before diving back into her work. I frosted the glass of my office and stared at the picture on my desk.
“Stop smiling at me, beauty. This is hard; I miss you more and more every day. All I need to know is what happened to you,” I said, picking up the frame and rubbing my thumb across her smile. I set the frame down carefully and unfrosted the glass.
Solane Garrison was a thorn in my side, a constant reminder of the merger, the noise, and the world outside my head. I hated that she was here. I hated that she was good at her job. But most of all, I hated that she had that expectant look on her face.
I sat at my desk and pulled up the next file. The work was the only thing that made sense. The coldness was the only thing that kept me together. As long as I kept the walls up, as long as I stayed 'all business,' I didn't have to feel the hollow ache in my chest that started the moment I woke up and didn't stop until I finally passed out at night.
Sloane was just a project. A deadline. A number on a page. And I was going to make sure she stayed that way.
I was going over the reports at the end of the day when my office door opened and Ms. Garrison walked in.
“Mr. Rhyand, here are the reports,” she said, putting them onto my desk. I don't know if she was really clumsy, or it was an accident, but she knocked over Tessa’s picture, and I dropped the files and tried to grab it, but it fell face down, and I heard the glass shatter.
“ARE YOU FUCKING CLUMSY?” I yelled.
She bent down and grabbed the picture frame, and I grabbed her wrist. I didn't care if I was hurting her. I grabbed it out of her hand. No one had the right to touch it. I let go of her hand and pushed her away.
“It was an accident, Mr. Rhyland,” she said.