by Leslie North
"I figured we'd just take a few minutes to go over everything," Trinity said. "Sort of a pre-meeting meeting. Nothing about our approach needs to be set in stone just yet. In fact, I think we should leave ourselves plenty of room to be flexible throughout this entire process. Eddie's a special case."
"He certainly is," Sam allowed. He tried to ignore her use of the word "flexible". In business, he absolutely loathed the term—but when confronted with memories of his ex-wife's uncommon talents in the bedroom, it was even more distracting.
"I mean that he's not nearly as underqualified as you or your brother like to think," Trinity said sharply. "He may have made mistakes in the past, but Eddie's a good kid."
"He's only two years younger than you are," Sam pointed out, "so your use of the word 'kid' is revealing. Eddie's twenty-eight, Trinity —like it or not, he isn't a kid anymore. What he is is an immature adult who, when he isn't off partying on an island somewhere, likes to sleep around with high-powered clients' daughters."
"One daughter. So far as I'm aware." Sam thought even Trinity looked unconvinced of this, but she pressed her lips together to stifle anything else she might say on the matter. "Anyway, I know Eddie and I would both appreciate it if the past didn't come up in tomorrow's meeting. I'd like to focus on the future—his future with the company—if it's all the same to you."
"You have my word."
He'd only broken one vow in his life, and only because the woman sitting across from him had asked him to.
"Good." Trinity pushed a copy of the first meeting itinerary his way. "Like I said, nothing about the agenda for tomorrow is set in stone. I'd prefer to look at this sheet as more of a working checklist. If you have any idea of how you would like to begin…."
"Well, I can start by getting him up to speed on all the company directives he's been ignoring," Sam said.
Trinity nodded. "Good idea. I can handle the soft-skills stuff in the meantime. Shouldn't be that difficult, considering Eddie is Eddie…and not you, for example."
Sam took the jab in stride. He leaned back in his leather chair, and tried to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled—an admission he doubted would come as a surprise to anyone—but seeing Trinity thawed his heart. It always did. He wondered if William had orchestrated their project partnership with that goal in mind, and found that he simply didn't care. He could watch the way her sensuous lips shaped every corporate word all day long.
"Look, Sam." Trinity interrupted herself suddenly and sat back, crossing her arms. She always did that when she was about to shoot straight with him. "You've had one too many write-ups for being cold and distant with your division heads," she stated. Sam winced. He thought he detected an unvoiced accusation in her tone, but she carried on before he could unpack it. "Our H.R. department is at their wit's end. Onboarding your own brother isn't only good optics for the company, but it shouldn't be that hard for you to muster up a little familial warmth in the process. Everyone wins."
"And I'm back in L.A. in time for a work thing," he agreed. "Everyone wins."
He had meant to sound casual—calling an advertising launch party a "work thing" was something he would never dream of doing outside of Trinity's presence. But he could see immediately that it had been a mistake. The animation in her eyes, the light, went abruptly dark; her energized posture stiffened. Too late, he recalled what he had said to her on the night of their five year anniversary, after he had sent his secretary in his stead to explain his absence from dinner. The night—and his failed marriage, it had turned out—imploded as soon as he got back to the apartment, and uttered those dismissive, fatal words:
I had a work thing.
He wondered if she would throw the memory back in his face now. It was the least he deserved for being careless. He had been caught up in the moment—caught up in the feeling of being partners again, and working together toward a solution. Instead, Trinity offered a smile as matte as a magazine ad. She gathered all her documents back together and straightened them briskly. "Wonderful. William will be delighted to know we're on the same page. Thanks for meeting with me today, Samson. I'll be seeing you at our official first meeting with Eddie tomorrow. Same time, same room."
When she rose, Sam reached for her out of habit. He was a creature of order, not routine, but somehow in the five years they had been married he had managed to develop a compulsion. He liked to hold onto Trinity, just a moment more, before they broke to pursue their separate tasks.
His fingers encircled her wrist, and she didn't pull away immediately. Sam felt encouraged. He stood and took a step nearer to her, letting his fingers slide from the delicate bones of her wrist to her open palm. They were almost holding hands.
"Trinity." He kept his voice low, almost afraid they would be overheard. "It's good to see you again. I've…missed you." He took another chance. He squeezed her hand. He thought he felt the faintest reciprocating pressure, and forged on quickly. "When are you off tonight? We should grab a drink and catch up."
Trinity yanked her hand from his suddenly as if he'd scalded her. "I have a date tonight." The words tumbled from her lips; Sam couldn't decide if they were improvised or rehearsed. If it was a lie, he couldn't read it in her face. He had always been able to in the past. "And I think…the onboarding process is what's most important right now. Getting Eddie situated in his role is my number one priority. I consider anything else a distraction that neither of us can afford."
Trinity turned and walked briskly from the room. As she passed back by the conference room window, Sam could clearly see the stormy look on her face: her eyebrows were furrowed in anger, and her eyes sparked like there was lightning behind them just waiting to be unbottled.
"Shit," Sam swore below his breath. What the hell had possessed him? He took a moment to compose himself. He straightened his cuffs. He tried to smooth the persistent wrinkle from his sleeve and came away with half a dozen more.
"Shit," he said again.
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