by Radclyffe
"Lassiter," she said abruptly.
"Michael, it's Sloan," the now familiar smoky voice announced.
Michael drew a sharp breath, laid down the folder, and stared across the room at her office door as if expecting it to open and Sloan to step through. Her heart quickened with anticipation even as she chided herself for the reaction. It had been nearly thirty-six hours since Sloan had walked out of her hotel room, and Michael had spent most of that time trying to avoid thinking about what had happened between them. Usually, her work was something that could distract her from everything else in her life. She had only to pick up a sketchpad, or doodle on the corner of an envelope, or lean back with her eyes closed and she would be instantly absorbed in constructing something or other out of her imagination. That was the beauty of design -- it could result in a tangible product or merely a concept that someone else brought to fruition. Michael's mind was fluid, yet enormously disciplined. She lived by her thoughts, and they had always been her greatest panacea for worry, uncertainty, and fear.
It hadn't worked the past weekend. Her thoughts were elusive, streaking through her mind like fast-forward images on an old time movie reel. She wasn't able to concentrate, and she wasn't able to stop thinking about the way Sloan's lips had felt against hers. It was true that she had very little experience with anyone other than Jeremy, but she certainly had not been isolated from the realities of physical relationships. What she had experienced with Sloan went far beyond anything she had previously known or even imagined. That such a simple kiss could set every cell in her body tingling defied her understanding. She had no frame of reference for the way she felt in Sloan's embrace, recalling that slight inner trembling that seemed to magnify as it approached the surface of her skin until she feared she might literally shake apart with the excitement of it. Being in Sloan's arms was like watching the sun break through the clouds after a week of gray skies and cold rain. With that first brief flash of golden heat you knew suddenly what it was to be alive, and knew too that until that moment, you had merely existed. She thought she understood the difference now, and dared not contemplate if that sensation was only borne on this woman's kiss.
"Michael?" Sloan said into the silence.
"Yes," Michaels said more sharply than she intended. "I'm sorry, I was working."
"Then I'm sorry to disturb you," Sloan said somewhat stiffly. "I actually intended just to leave a message. I didn't expect you to be there." She hadn't wanted to speak with her, let alone see her, which was why she had taken the rather cowardly route of leaving a message. She didn't trust herself not to betray how affected she had been by her slip the other night. She hadn't lost control of herself like that in years, and it shook her. She cleared her throat which had suddenly grown tight, and continued, "I wanted to let you know that I've decided to drive up to the New York City office to look over things up there. I think we've got the network in fair shape here and you should be secure within reason. I can't do much more to tighten things up until I check out the other facilities. Then I should be able to make the changeovers fairly quickly if I don't run into any surprises."
Michael was silent. She hadn't really listened after Sloan announced that she was leaving for New York. There was nothing she could say, short of asking Sloan if she were going because of what had happened between them. That certainly didn't seem like a very appropriate question. Sloan had made it quite clear that their very brief interlude had been a mistake, and that she had no desire for it to happen again. If Sloan wanted distance between them, it was certainly understandable. Michael saw no point in further embarrassing herself or pursuing what could only make them both more uncomfortable.
"That sounds very reasonable. I'll call up there around nine and let them know you're coming. Shall I have Angela make hotel reservations for you somewhere nearby?"
"No, thanks," Sloan added. "Jason will take care of that for me. An introduction to your administrative manager will be helpful, just don't tell them too much about what I'll be doing. I would rather inform people on a need to know basis, especially given the possibility that some of them may end up being loyal to Jeremy if a split should come about."
"You're right, of course," Michaels said, ignoring the slight twist of anxiety that the mention of Jeremy's name caused. "I'm not actually personally familiar with many of the people there, other than in the design arm. They were pretty much hand picked by me. Nevertheless, it's probably prudent to keep a low profile. Will you call me to keep me informed?"
"Absolutely. In the meantime, if you have any problems or need anything, just call Jason."
There was silence on the line as both of them listened for the other's breathing, as if loath to break the connection and not knowing what else to say. Eventually they murmured light meaningless goodbyes and hung up. Michael went back to work, desperately hoping to occupy her wandering mind, silently hoping that Sloan’s image would not continue to intrude on her thoughts.
Across town Sloan set about packing the single suitcase for her trip. She looked around the loft, finding the solitude that usually gave her such comfort, now merely lonely. The sound of Michael’s voice had stirred her anew, and her body sang with desire. The kiss they had shared was a tangible memory on her lips, and her palms ached with the imprint of Michael’s body pressed to their surface. She was hungry for more of her, and she feared it was for much more than her body. If it had been only that, she might not have hesitated. Michael was an adult, after all, and more than capable of making a decision about whom she might sleep with. It was not her unrelenting desire for Michael that troubled Sloan so much, it was her deep longing to lie down beside her and simply rest. She was weary, and the promise of succor was far too dangerous.
She finished packing a light bag, locked the heavy metal clasp on the sliding double doors to the loft, and prayed for a clear highway all the way to New York. Maybe a fast drive would erase the images of Michael’s softly welcoming smile from her mind. She would just have to live with the constant pulse of need in her belly. That was uncomfortable, but not nearly as frightening.
* * *
Eventually Michael was able to work, and forgot about Sloan's voice, and the electricity of her touch, and her hauntingly attractive profile. She was startled as the intercom on her desk crackled once, and a voice filled the room.
"Michael, I'm sorry---"
The sentence was lost in a commotion as the office door banged open and Jeremy strode in with Angela close behind him. Michael swiveled on her high drafting stool and stared, a pencil still held in her left hand.
"I'm sorry, he didn't give me a chance to call you," Angela stated, clearly distraught.
"That's all right, Angela," Michael said calmly. "Just close the door and hold my calls."
Angela looked uneasily from Jeremy's stony countenance to Michael's perfectly smooth, expressionless face, and slowly backed out the door. She didn't like it, but she had no choice. She briefly wondered if she should call security. There had been something about the look in Jeremy Lassiter's eyes that frightened her. Were it not for the possibility of embarrassing Michael, she would have.
Michael remained seated, silent. Jeremy strode forward another few steps, his hands clenched at his side. A muscle bunched along the edge of his jaw. When he spoke his voice was tight with the effort to control his anger.
"I met with my attorneys this morning, and reviewed your 'offer'," he said harshly. The way he said 'offer' suggested that she had highly insulted him. "I assume that was some kind of joke."
Michael stepped down from the stool and stood by the side of her drafting table, one hand resting along the edge of the slanted drawing surface. Her face remained still, although there was a very fine tremor in her hand. "Actually, Jeremy, I spent a great deal of time reviewing the situation with my attorneys and several business consultants. The package we offered you contained a generous buy out as well as stock options. It will provide you ongoing security as long as the company continues to thrive, i
n addition to the moneys up front."
Her attorneys had assured her that the stock options were a reasonable method for providing long-term recompense for Jeremy's loss of potential income from the company. They had actually argued that the cash package was too generous, but she had insisted, hoping to present him with something that he would accept. Nevertheless, she certainly wasn't surprised he didn't. It wasn't like Jeremy to agree to something that he had not orchestrated himself. Her attorneys had warned her that he was likely to reject her initial overtures, and that negotiations could drag on a while. Nevertheless, she had no intention of engaging him in a personal dialogue over the details. That was why she had legal counsel.
He grimaced, moving closer still. "On the surface, your proposal may appear generous to others, but I know damn well that the potential of this company resides in future design plans and those will be your exclusive property under the current stipulations of your plan."
She shrugged slightly, and said quietly, "The design plans have always been mine, Jeremy. You know that."
"Yes, but I have been the one to promote them."
She nodded again, wondering at his point. "Of course I know that, and my attorneys have taken that into account."
"I'm not going to let you do this," he said, his voice low and hard. He stretched an arm out on either side of her, gripping the metal lip that rimmed the desktop, trapping her. The front of his body pressed close, almost touching her. His physical size alone was intimidating enough, but it was more the barely contained rage in his face that made her flinch. He threw each word at her like a weapon. "Without me, you never would have been able to accomplish what you have. You were a naive, unsophisticated emotional misfit when we met. You had no idea how to get along in the world, let alone make a success of business. If I hadn't pampered your sensitivities and supported your fragile ego, none of this would have been possible."
She was shocked at the depth of his rancor, and stunned at his clear and open disdain of her. She was momentarily speechless. He continued as if he expected her to accept his criticism without response.
"I can accept that you want to divorce me, and believe me it will not present any hardship to me. Our marriage was convenient from a professional point of view, but it certainly wasn't anything exceptional in the physical department. I'm well aware that you were simply going through the motions in bed, and if you had been the slightest bit physically challenging or even interesting, I might not have looked elsewhere for my needs."
She was numb, his verbal assault merely reinforcing what she had gradually come to realize over the past weeks. She did not know this man, although she had lived with him for over a decade. If she did not know him, she did not know herself, and that was much more frightening than anything that he could say to her now. Her nerves were exposed - raw, and yet the pain was familiar. She had been living with it for weeks.
"I regret this is happening this way," she said softly, "because I know I had a part in getting us here. I'm sorry for the things that were lacking between us --"
He made an impatient gesture, as if that were of little consequence to him. "I'm warning you, Michael, I expect to maintain a significant voting interest in the company. And there are plenty of people who would support me in replacing you as CEO. I'm not leaving, and if you think I am, I will lobby the board for a vote of no confidence and it will be you who will be looking for a new position. Remember, your position is only as sound as your ability to deliver a product, and the bottom line is what determines success or failure."
He walked toward the door, and as he reached for the handle, he turned and looked at her with dark fury in his eyes. "You may have the vision, Michael, but you don't have the skill to do anything with it. You never have. You're one-dimensional and about as human as a computer. If you were more of a woman, none of this would have happened."
He had regained enough control of himself that when he left he was able to close the door without slamming it. Nevertheless, Michael was aware of his anger still swirling around her with almost malevolent force. She took his threats seriously, because she knew that Jeremy never said anything he didn't intend to do. She wasn't sure exactly how he meant to attack her, but she knew with certainty that an attack was coming. She was vulnerable now, she knew that, because if he forced the Board of Directors to chose between them, it was very possible that she would lose. It was true that the company was founded on her ingenuity and intellect, not to mention her funds, but that was something that might be seen as replaceable. If anything occurred to even suggest that she could not carry the company forward, she would surely lose her bargaining power.
She moved carefully across the room, trying to ignore the quivering in her stomach and the shaking in her limbs. She settled behind her desk and rested her face in her hands. She tried desperately to think of what her next move might be, and wished that there were someone in whom she could confide. Immediately she thought of Sloan. How strange, to find herself at this point in her life with no one that she trusted more than a woman she had met only a few short weeks before. Somehow, that connection, however brief in time, had touched her more deeply than anything in her years with Jeremy. She tried to convince herself that it was only Sloan's reassurance she wanted, and not her touch, as she stared at the telephone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MICHAEL LISTENED TO the phone ring, still silently debating the wisdom of her actions.
"Sloan."
"It's Michael Lassiter," she said quietly.
Sloan sat up straight on the side of hotel room bed where she had been lying, trying rather unsuccessfully to read. She glanced at the digital bedside clock. 7:40 PM. "Michael! Is something wrong?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, but it seemed important," Michael said with uncharacteristic hesitancy. She had debated for hours with her anxiety rising before finally relenting and calling. Part of her reluctance was that she simply wanted to hear Sloan's voice. Even accepting that her concerns about Jeremy were reasonable, she warred with herself over contacting Sloan when she felt so emotionally unsteady. Her encounter with Jeremy had been frightening on several levels. His threats to sabotage her standing within the company were serious, and she knew that he was determined enough and ruthless enough to do that. Even more than that however had been his personal assault on her, and the life they had shared. She willingly admitted that she had not been emotionally cognizant of her own part in the decline of their relationship, and was only now realizing how isolated she had been within the sphere of her own life. But what hurt the most was the ease with which Jeremy had discounted everything about their life together. It had left her shaken and unsure of herself.
Nevertheless, she had waited to reach out to Sloan, first drafting several new proposals to present to the board if Jeremy forced a showdown before she could complete her current projects. She wanted to be certain that she demonstrated her ability to head the company on all fronts. She did not want to turn to Sloan simply as a remedy for her own fears and pain. When she felt she was more in control, she had called.
Michael took a deep breath, determined to steer their conversation onto a purely professional level. "I'm sorry to disturb you," she began again, "but I thought you should know of some developments here."
Sloan was very aware of the prolonged silence and could almost feel Michael's struggle. Her initial surprise at Michael's call, especially after what had happened between them, was quickly replaced by concern. Something was clearly very wrong. Immediately she thought of Jeremy, and her constant fear that he would do something rash tore at her. She forced herself to be calm. "Michael," she said gently, "I'm glad that you called. It's good to hear your voice. Just tell me what's happened. It's all right."
Michael relaxed, instantly reassured by the acceptance and comfort in Sloan's voice. "Jeremy was here late this afternoon. He apparently did not find my attorneys’ proposal to his liking. He made it clear that he would resort to almost any means, including undermining my position
in the company and my credibility with the board, to preserve his position. I don't know precisely what he intends, but things seem to be escalating in that regard fairly quickly. I wasn’t certain if it would make any difference with what you need to do up there, but it seemed like I should let you know."
Michael's heart was pounding. The phone call seemed foolish to her now, when she had so little concrete to tell Sloan, but she remembered the cold fury in Jeremy's eyes and shivered. Her hand on the receiver was clenched so tightly her fingers were white.
Sloan listened mostly to the tenor and tone of Michael's words, recognized the fear, and knew that there was more than Michael was letting on. There was a faint tremor in Michael's voice, and her speech was stilted in the way of someone trying hard not to become too emotional.
As quietly as she could, although her pulse was racing, Sloan asked, "Are you all right?" All she really cared about was Michael's safety. The business aspects could wait.
"Yes, it was nasty but it was only words," Michael said swiftly. "Please, you needn't worry. I'm fine."
A hundred miles away, Sloan nodded, wishing desperately that she was there and could see Michael's face. She wanted to assess for herself just how "all right" Michael really was. Instead, she squeezed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, trying to focus on the issues at hand. And trying even harder to quell the rising surge of anxiety in her chest. She hated even thinking about Michael being frightened and upset, and when she considered what the scene with her husband must have been like, she nearly choked on her anger. It was her turn to take a deep breath and rein in her emotions. Finally, she said, "I've spent the afternoon with the computer people here, and we actually made a fair amount of progress. I don't think there any major problems at this end, and I expect to be finishing up within the next few days. There are always things that are going to need to be tweaked and modified, but I can do most of that by phone. I'll need to sit down with you to go over exactly how I want you to use the new encryption programs, but that can wait till the beginning of the week."
