Chapter 2 Who's Calling

Michael

"Hello Sam," I said to my head of staff and security. I managed to leave him in Manhattan this year, and it was a hard-fought argument to do so. I played to his ego and had told him I wanted no one else to keep my affairs in order while I was away.

"Good afternoon, Michael," Sam said. "After not hearing from you since yesterday, I wanted to check in."

Sam wasn't much older than me, but he was a fatherly-type of man. Overbearing as hell sometimes but I'd rather he be really good at his job than being a slacker.

"How's everything there?" I reached up to brush my hair back.

"Just peachy. Where are you?"

I glanced at the nearest exit sign. "I'm about forty-five minutes out. I could make that thirty if you need something."

"No, no, Sir," Sam said quickly. "Take your time."

I laughed. Sam hated driving with me. Which I think is another reason he decided to stay in Manhattan. I would have given him time off for the holiday, but he insisted on working through it. He didn't talk much about his family, but I was under the impression they weren't close.

"I wanted to see if you were going out or staying in for dinner tonight," Sam asked.

I weighed my options. I really needed to get back to work after being "off" for the past few days. Granted, I was on the phone for much of the time. I needed to sit in my office and pound the keyboard for a few hours.

"I'll be staying in tonight. I need to get work done." My mind flipped to work-mode, and I started mentally organizing my priorities. I had a lot of catching up to do before Monday.

"Very good, Sir. I can call Fiona in to make you something."

"No," I said quickly. "I gave her the holiday off since I was going to be away. You can order something in."

"Do you have a preference? Italian? Chinese?" When my personal chef, Fiona, was working, she tended to keep my meals clean and healthy. Sam knew when we ordered, I went all out, not caring about carbs or salt content. We only lived once, right?

"Surprise me," I said. I made enough decisions on a daily basis, even on vacation, and I was never picky about food.

"I will see you in a short while, Sir," Sam said, ending the conversation. "Focus on the road now."

"Bye, Sam." I chuckled and ended the call.

A heavy sigh left me as my thought ran rampage through my mind. While being away from the city was relaxing, I felt more at ease when I was home. My staff was top-notch and I expected nothing less. If only I had an assistant as good as the rest of them. I made a mental note to get in touch with Sandra first thing in the morning about the interviews on Monday. There were a lot of menial tasks that I wanted to pass off to an assistant so I could focus on the new year to come and the upcoming projects. I hadn't needed an assistant in the past.

My secretary had always been enough. But with the growth of my company over the past few years, I needed to shift my focus to the bigger projects and pass along the smaller ones to someone who was competent. The qualifications for the role involved business degrees. I didn't need an assistant to get my coffee. I needed someone to be my right-hand man. I already knew I probably wouldn't like most of the candidates, but I needed to weed through the interviews to narrow down the scope of the position.

As much as I didn't bring personal life into my work, I'd be spending a lot of time with this person and would need to get along in a positive way. I hated distractions, and I'd expect the same attitude from my assistant.

After mulling over the traits I wanted in an assistant, I shifted that a few positions down on my priority list. I couldn't do anything about that until Monday. Though something I could work on tonight was reviewing the numbers for next year.

"Text Sandra," I said aloud. Then I heard a dinging sound, and an automated voice spoke to me through the car speakers.

"What would you like to say to Sandra?" it responded.

"Email me the next quarters figures as soon as possible."

The message sent and I settled into my seat. Knowing Sandra, she would already have them and projections for the next year. She was an asset I was grateful to have... most of the time.

There was a peace surrounding me after coming back from Maine that I enjoyed tremendously, but it would soon fade into oblivion. I had some business goals to hit, and once I had a goal, I rarely took my focus away. I had an insatiable itch to work now, and I couldn't do much from sitting behind the wheel. So I decided to use technology in my favor and continue to make my way down my mental to-do list for today.

****

Michael

When I reached the City, I was surprised that there wasn't much traffic, even for a holiday weekend. I suspected everyone who had left for the long weekend to start to Fredrick in tonight and tomorrow. I'd made the right choice to come back a day early. Giving myself the time to get back to normal was what I needed to kick off what was projected to be a busy month.

By the time I reached the front of my building, I'd already had the report from Sandra and several other email request responses. I loved living in this time. I wondered how anyone got any work done before cell phones. And it made long, boring car rides much more productive.

I left the car idling by the curb and started to organize my things. I shoved my phone and wallet into the case and closed it.

My door opened. A rush of cold November air enveloped me and I shuddered.

"Good evening, Sir," the valet said. He tipped his hat to me and stood dutifully by my door.

I popped the trunk and got out of the car. I gave him a generous tip and rounded the car to grab my bag and coat. I traveled light. Something that I didn't realize until Cynthia died. She was the one packing a majority of the bags during any of our vacations. I only needed essentials. I closed the trunk and drummed my hands over the surface of the car. I didn't know when I'd see her again. I rarely took road trips and while I was home, I had a driver bring me around the City.

"Take good care of her."

"I will, Sir." The valet nodded again and got into the car.

I stepped onto the sidewalk and watched my car drive away to the heated parking garage. There she'd be washed and vacuumed so next time I saw her she'd look like a model from the showroom.

I chuckled to myself. I didn't remember when I started referring to cars as female. She was precious to me. She was one of the most expensive items I'd ever purchased. I wasn't ashamed to think of her as an accomplishment. I worked my ass off for my money and status, so I didn't need to apologize to anyone.

When my car had disappeared around the corner, I turned to my building. I nodded to the doorman and was pleasantly surprised to see Sam waiting for me in the lobby.

"Do I have a tracker on me?" I joked.

He lightly tapped on his temple. "I have a sixth sense about you. And I can tell time."

I reached out my hand and he took it, shaking firmly. "Well, it's good to be back." I looked around the lobby, nothing had changed on the outside, but something about it felt different. I suspected the feeling would be gone by the morning.

"How was the remainder of your drive?" Sam asked.

"Productive," I said as we headed for the bank of elevators.

"Your dinner will arrive in approximately thirty minutes. I thought you'd want to settle in before eating." He gave me a quick glance to the side. He wanted to ask about the women I'd slept with. He was forever concerned that in my need to sate myself I'd get someone pregnant and we'd end up with more on our hands than we bargained for.

"Thanks, and stop looking at me like that." I smirked. I needed a quick shower and then I'd have dinner in my office. I had far too much to get done, and my to-do list was pulling at my attention something horrid.

"I'm not looking at you in any way, Sir." He nodded, but kept his eyes forward. "I just want to remind you that I'm here should you need me."

"I'm aware. Stop worrying. I'm not twenty anymore. I understand risks better than most." I stifled a smile. He wasn't ever going to let up, which I was grateful for. He was my conscience when life got hard, and it did – often.

"Very well, Sir," he said and pressed the up button for the private elevator.

When the door opened, I stepped inside with Sam on my heels. He stuck his access key into the slot for the penthouse and turned. The small light next to the keyhole lit up green.

The tension in my shoulders increased, but in a good way. I mentally worked through my to-do list and shifted my priorities again. It was a habit of mine to keep myself on track. I shifted a few more items down the list, like the Christmas charity. I wanted my new assistant to spearhead that this year under my close supervision. It would be a test for whoever I decided to hire. And it might help to keep thoughts of Cynthia at bay.

The elevator doors closed and Cynthia's smiling face was in the forefront of my mind.

I'm going to make you proud, baby. I just wish like hell you were still here to be a part of it with me.