“But that’s a lie. We can be ready.”
I dropped my hands, gaping at her. “Yes, but only if we work fifteen-hour days through the holidays—and all to accommodate his shitty timing for a launch.”
She threw her hands up, eyes on fire. “He’s paying us a million dollars for basic marketing and we’re inking a deal for another ten-million-dollar media campaign. You think fifteen-hour days are unreasonable to keep our biggest client?”
“Of course not! But he’s also not your only client! Rule number one in business is to not ever let the big dog know how small the other dogs are.”
“Damnit, Bennett. I’m not going to tell him we can’t deliver.”
“Sometimes a little pushback is a good thing. You’re being green, Mills. If you weren’t sure, you should have sent the call to me.”
I immediately wanted to pull the words back into my mouth. Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped, and fuck, her hands curled into fists at her sides. I reached down to cover my balls.
“Are you fucking serious right now? Are you going to cut my fucking steak at dinner, too, you egomaniacal asshat?”
I couldn’t help myself. “Only if I can feed it to you and help you chew.”
Her face smoothed and I could see her calculate how much effort she wanted to put into kicking my ass. “We’re skipping St. Bart’s,” she said, flatly.
“Obviously. Why do you think I’m pissed?”
“Well, even if we did still go at this point, you’d be sleeping alone with your hand and a tube of lube.”
“I could work with that. These two hands provide some variety.”
She blinked away, jaw clenched. “Are you trying to make me more angry?”
“Sure, why not.”
Dark eyes turned back on me, narrowed. Her voice shook a little with one word: “Why?”
“So you can feel the pain more. Because you should have told George that these kinds of decisions have to be cleared with the entire team and we’d have an answer for him after the holiday.”
“How do you know I didn’t say that?”
“Because you came in here and delivered news. You didn’t act like it was a suggestion.”
She stared at me, eyes flashing through a hundred responses. I waited to see how many curse words she could string together but she surprised me instead, and turned to leave my office.
Chloe didn’t stay over that night. It was only the second night we’d spent apart after her presentation at J. T. Miller last June, and I didn’t even try to sleep. Instead, I watched Mad Men on Netflix and wondered which of us would apologize first.
The problem was I was right, and I knew it.
Thanksgiving morning arrived with snow flurries and a wind so strong it pushed me forward into the building as I walked, alone, from the parking garage to my office.
It had never occurred to me that she would leave me again after our fight. I suspected Chloe and I were in it for the long haul, whether the long haul officially began tomorrow or ten years in the future. There wasn’t anything she could do to scare me off.
And while I felt the same was true for her, she rarely walked away from a fight. She either battled with me until I was figuratively on my knees or she ended up on her knees in an entirely different way.
Only a few RMG employees were at work on Thanksgiving—the members of the Papadakis team. And every one of them glared at Chloe as she walked down the hall to get some coffee. Knowing her, she had probably worked late last night and slept under her desk.
She didn’t even glance over to where I stood in the doorway to the conference room. Still, I could almost hear her thinking as she passed every disgruntled team member: “You can suck my dick. And you, too, can suck my dick. And you? The slacker with the pathetic pout? You can really suck my dick.”
She headed to her office, settled in, and left her door open.
Come and get me, she was saying. Come on in and let’s have it out.
But for as much as everyone probably wanted to give her an earful for making us cancel our holiday plans, no one did. Each of us had been raised in the business world under the same ethos: work trumps all. The last person to leave work is the hero. The first person in has bragging rights. Working over holidays gets you into heaven.
And while a more experienced executive would have told Papadakis that what he’d asked wasn’t possible, as always I admired Chloe’s determination. This wasn’t just about meeting a new milestone for her. This was her launching her career. This was her foundation. Chloe was me a few years ago.
After everyone else had left for the evening, I knocked on her open door, gently alerting her to my presence.
“Mr. Ryan,” she said, pulling off her glasses and looking up at me. The city skyline winked behind her, speckled lights covering her entire wall of windows. “Here to show me how to grow a penis so I can get the job done?”