The Billionaire's Command
Page 41
All that could wait. I had work to do.
When I arrived at the office, I immediately headed for my locker in the basement gym. My sweat-drenched clothes would do nothing but distract and annoy me, and because it was after hours, I didn’t see the need to keep up appearances. I took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. Then, feeling a little more human, I went to see my mother.
Her secretary had already gone home for the evening, and I strolled directly into her office. “Hello, Mom.”
She looked up from her computer, smiling, and then frowned as she saw my outfit. “What on earth are you wearing?”
“I just walked here from Soho,” I said. “It’s hot outside.”
“I won’t ask,” she said. “How’s Will?”
“Taken care of,” I said. “I’ll see him tomorrow evening, and I’ll pick him up on Friday once the paperwork’s signed.”
“Good,” she said. “He’ll stay with me and your father for a while, until he’s ready to go back to his apartment. I hope you boys are enjoying all of this cloak-and-dagger nonsense. You do realize, don’t you, that the buyout is hardly in any danger?”
“I don’t totally agree with you about that,” I said, “but I think right now it’s important for Will to feel like he’s contributing in some way, even if just by lying low. And the friend he’s staying with will be good for him. He needs someone to take care of him.”
“Well, I’m glad,” she said. “Just don’t come to me with any stories about wire-tapping or men in white vans. You aren’t actually international men of mystery.”
I grinned. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“In that case, I’m going home,” she said. “Your father is very distressed that Will doesn’t want to come home immediately, and I’ll have my work cut out for me calming him down.” She stood up and began shoving papers in her briefcase. “I assume everything with the buyout is still progressing as planned?”
I nodded. “I doubt I’ll go home tonight, but yes, we’ll be ready to sign the papers on Friday.”
“Good,” she said. She came around the desk and reached up to pat my cheek. “You’ve done excellent work with all of this, Alex. Now I can retire in peace, knowing that the company is in good hands.”
“I wouldn’t want to let you down,” I said.
“You never have,” she said. She smiled at me, gave a firm nod, and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Say hello to Dad,” I said.
When she was gone, I went down one flight of stairs to my own office, spread out my files, and got to work. No rest for the wicked.
I worked that night until 3, slept on the sofa in my office for a few hours, woke up and changed into the spare suit I kept at work, and got started on the next set of papers. My mother, bless her, came by with coffee when she arrived, which kept me going until lunch.
But even I couldn’t operate indefinitely on three hours of sleep per night, and I crashed hard in the late afternoon, head down on my desk, and didn’t wake up until my mother came down to check on me.
“Go home,” she said. “Everything’s ready.”
I rubbed my eyes. “But I have to check the records from—”
“Go home,” she said again. “You aren’t missing anything. We’ll sign the papers. They won’t back out. Go home and sleep. I doubt you’ve gotten a full eight hours in at least a week.”
“You’re right,” I said, and sighed. “I just want to be sure—”
“I’m sure,” she said. “Alex. Leave. You’re an adult now, but you’re still my son, and what’s the point in having children if you don’t get to boss them around a little?”
“I can’t possibly imagine,” I said dryly, and she laughed at me.
It was a little after 6 when I left the office. Sasha had told me to come by for dinner at 7, but I knew if I went home first, I would succumb to the siren song of my bed and wouldn’t leave again until morning. I decided that I would head directly to Sasha’s, and if I was early, well, she could just fucking deal with it.
I took the subway, which I regretted almost as much as I had regretted the taxi ride the day before. The station was hot and crowded, and I was forced to wedge myself into the packed subway car and cling to an overhead strap while a woman near me decided to stagger backward and step on my toes every time the car shifted instead of actually holding on to a stationary object. When I took over the Turner Group, I decided, I would dedicate a portion of our budget to researching instant teleportation machines.
It was with great relief that I exited the subway at West 4th and walked to Sasha’s apartment.
I still found it somewhat surprising that she had chosen to live in the West Village, which was a fairly low-key neighborhood filled with families and movie stars who wanted to pretend to be anonymous. It was close to the Silver Cross; maybe that was the only reason.
Not that anything about Sasha made much sense to me. I found her baffling, and that annoyed me. Women weren’t meant to be so complicated.
It was 6:30 when I arrived at her front door and rang the doorbell. I knew she would chew me out for being early, and I couldn’t wait. Making Sasha angry had quickly become one of my favorite things in life.
Sure enough, when she came downstairs and saw me through the glass inset in the door, her face settled into a familiar look of irritation.
She opened the door, but blocked the opening with her body to prevent me from entering. “You’re early,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “What’s your point?” She was wearing a ridiculous Guns N’ Roses t-shirt and a pair of cut-offs so ancient that the denim had worn white in places. Her bare legs were slim and tanned. The baggy shirt couldn’t conceal the swell of her generous breasts. She looked good enough to eat.
“Uh, that you’re rude and a jerk,” she said, with that scowl I found so adorable. “But okay, come on in, I won’t stop you.” She stepped back to let me into the building.
I climbed the stairs to her apartment, amused by her obvious irritation, and glad my back was to her so she couldn’t see the smile tugging at my lips. It wouldn’t do to clue her in that I found her rage endearing.
When I arrived at the office, I immediately headed for my locker in the basement gym. My sweat-drenched clothes would do nothing but distract and annoy me, and because it was after hours, I didn’t see the need to keep up appearances. I took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. Then, feeling a little more human, I went to see my mother.
Her secretary had already gone home for the evening, and I strolled directly into her office. “Hello, Mom.”
She looked up from her computer, smiling, and then frowned as she saw my outfit. “What on earth are you wearing?”
“I just walked here from Soho,” I said. “It’s hot outside.”
“I won’t ask,” she said. “How’s Will?”
“Taken care of,” I said. “I’ll see him tomorrow evening, and I’ll pick him up on Friday once the paperwork’s signed.”
“Good,” she said. “He’ll stay with me and your father for a while, until he’s ready to go back to his apartment. I hope you boys are enjoying all of this cloak-and-dagger nonsense. You do realize, don’t you, that the buyout is hardly in any danger?”
“I don’t totally agree with you about that,” I said, “but I think right now it’s important for Will to feel like he’s contributing in some way, even if just by lying low. And the friend he’s staying with will be good for him. He needs someone to take care of him.”
“Well, I’m glad,” she said. “Just don’t come to me with any stories about wire-tapping or men in white vans. You aren’t actually international men of mystery.”
I grinned. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“In that case, I’m going home,” she said. “Your father is very distressed that Will doesn’t want to come home immediately, and I’ll have my work cut out for me calming him down.” She stood up and began shoving papers in her briefcase. “I assume everything with the buyout is still progressing as planned?”
I nodded. “I doubt I’ll go home tonight, but yes, we’ll be ready to sign the papers on Friday.”
“Good,” she said. She came around the desk and reached up to pat my cheek. “You’ve done excellent work with all of this, Alex. Now I can retire in peace, knowing that the company is in good hands.”
“I wouldn’t want to let you down,” I said.
“You never have,” she said. She smiled at me, gave a firm nod, and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Say hello to Dad,” I said.
When she was gone, I went down one flight of stairs to my own office, spread out my files, and got to work. No rest for the wicked.
I worked that night until 3, slept on the sofa in my office for a few hours, woke up and changed into the spare suit I kept at work, and got started on the next set of papers. My mother, bless her, came by with coffee when she arrived, which kept me going until lunch.
But even I couldn’t operate indefinitely on three hours of sleep per night, and I crashed hard in the late afternoon, head down on my desk, and didn’t wake up until my mother came down to check on me.
“Go home,” she said. “Everything’s ready.”
I rubbed my eyes. “But I have to check the records from—”
“Go home,” she said again. “You aren’t missing anything. We’ll sign the papers. They won’t back out. Go home and sleep. I doubt you’ve gotten a full eight hours in at least a week.”
“You’re right,” I said, and sighed. “I just want to be sure—”
“I’m sure,” she said. “Alex. Leave. You’re an adult now, but you’re still my son, and what’s the point in having children if you don’t get to boss them around a little?”
“I can’t possibly imagine,” I said dryly, and she laughed at me.
It was a little after 6 when I left the office. Sasha had told me to come by for dinner at 7, but I knew if I went home first, I would succumb to the siren song of my bed and wouldn’t leave again until morning. I decided that I would head directly to Sasha’s, and if I was early, well, she could just fucking deal with it.
I took the subway, which I regretted almost as much as I had regretted the taxi ride the day before. The station was hot and crowded, and I was forced to wedge myself into the packed subway car and cling to an overhead strap while a woman near me decided to stagger backward and step on my toes every time the car shifted instead of actually holding on to a stationary object. When I took over the Turner Group, I decided, I would dedicate a portion of our budget to researching instant teleportation machines.
It was with great relief that I exited the subway at West 4th and walked to Sasha’s apartment.
I still found it somewhat surprising that she had chosen to live in the West Village, which was a fairly low-key neighborhood filled with families and movie stars who wanted to pretend to be anonymous. It was close to the Silver Cross; maybe that was the only reason.
Not that anything about Sasha made much sense to me. I found her baffling, and that annoyed me. Women weren’t meant to be so complicated.
It was 6:30 when I arrived at her front door and rang the doorbell. I knew she would chew me out for being early, and I couldn’t wait. Making Sasha angry had quickly become one of my favorite things in life.
Sure enough, when she came downstairs and saw me through the glass inset in the door, her face settled into a familiar look of irritation.
She opened the door, but blocked the opening with her body to prevent me from entering. “You’re early,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “What’s your point?” She was wearing a ridiculous Guns N’ Roses t-shirt and a pair of cut-offs so ancient that the denim had worn white in places. Her bare legs were slim and tanned. The baggy shirt couldn’t conceal the swell of her generous breasts. She looked good enough to eat.
“Uh, that you’re rude and a jerk,” she said, with that scowl I found so adorable. “But okay, come on in, I won’t stop you.” She stepped back to let me into the building.
I climbed the stairs to her apartment, amused by her obvious irritation, and glad my back was to her so she couldn’t see the smile tugging at my lips. It wouldn’t do to clue her in that I found her rage endearing.
