Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Nate swallowed, but his voice didn’t betray his nervousness as he said stubbornly, “But you’re being one, sir. With all due respect. After what Mr. Reyes has been through, the least you can do is treat him—”
“Fine,” Ferrara bit out. “Let him enter.”
Nate switched the intercom off and gestured to Andrew to go into the office. “I wish I could say he isn’t as much of a dick as he sounds, but he’s actually worse,” he said, sighing and then yawning. “Go on. It’s like pulling teeth.”
“Unpleasantly difficult?”
“That too. But I meant that the more you drag it out, the worse it is. The word ‘patience’ isn’t in his vocabulary.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly encouraging.
When Andrew entered the office, Ferrara looked up at him from his laptop and gave him a flat look. “Did you want something?”
His voice dripped with dismissiveness, and Andrew found his insides clenching. He had always hated being dismissed. He hated that a part of him wanted to run out of this room like a little boy and hide.
He didn’t, of course.
He forced himself to hold the man’s gaze firmly. “Yes,” he said. “My employees have been complaining to me about your methods.”
Ferrara’s eyes bored into him. They were unnerving, truth be told. Raffaele Ferrara was an objectively handsome man, his facial features and olive skin making his Mediterranean roots obvious, but something about his gaze was highly unsettling. The shape of his black eyebrows and his sharp, hawk-like black eyes made him look like a predator. His gaze was heavy, haughty, and condescending. Almost cruel.
“Your employees?” Ferrara said, his voice toneless. “Do you mean my employees?”
Andrew clenched his hand into a fist. The urge to leave was becoming irresistible. “No, my employees. I may not be the CEO anymore, but I own ten percent of the company.”
Ferrara’s thin lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Derek Rutledge is the majority shareholder, and he has signed the contract that gave the Caldwell Group the right to run his company. If you have any objections, you’re welcome to give them to Derek Rutledge.” And he turned back to his computer, a clear dismissal.
Andrew opened his mouth and then closed it.
He’d never felt so helpless in his life. So useless. So small.
“I have been the CEO of this company for years,” he finally managed. “It’s very arrogant of you to reject my help.”
Ferrara didn’t even glance at him. “I don’t need anyone’s help,” he said coldly. “And if people run to you to complain about me, tell them to come to me with their complaints—if they’re so brave.” He started typing, his gaze on his computer. “You’re not needed, Reyes. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve returned to work so soon after the ordeal. I doubt your mental health is where it needs to be.”
Andrew pressed his lips together. “I’m fine,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. They were shaking. “I’m ready to return to my job.”
“I understand that you may think so,” Ferrara said, his voice still flat. “But I’m afraid I can’t give you back this office unless Ian tells me to do so.”
“Caldwell is in a coma and is unlikely to ever wake up,” Andrew bit out. “He isn’t going to tell you jack shit.”
Ferrara’s black eyes shifted back to him. “Are you also a doctor now? He’s breathing. He may wake up yet.”
Andrew decided not to voice his doubts about it. He’d heard somewhere that Raffaele Ferrara and Ian Caldwell were pretty good friends—as much as two ruthless assholes could be friends.
“In any case, the point is moot,” Ferrara said. “You saw the documents we provided. The contract between Rutledge Enterprises and the Caldwell Group makes it clear that the Caldwell Group’s CEO will be managing both companies for the duration of the partnership deal. And that person is me while Caldwell is unavailable. Am I speaking a language you don’t understand?” His tone was final, dismissive, as if he were speaking to a stupid, annoying child.
Feeling angry, helpless, and utterly humiliated, Andrew turned and left the office.
His hands were shaking so badly by this point that he had to ball his fingers into fists.
He couldn’t remember getting back, but he must have, because the next thing he was aware of, he was huddled on the couch in his office, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head between them as he tried to breathe through the waves of nausea.
He wasn’t needed. He wasn’t needed even here. No one needed him. No one wanted him around. The only person who had ever wanted—loved—him was dead, taking with her every good thing in his life. Now he was nothing. He was useless. He was wanted by no one.
I never wanted him. I’ll never understand people who want children. All that boy did was ruin my cousin’s life—and now my career too.