'I'm falling in love with the girl I can't have
I'm walking a line, that's a little bit mad
I know that I shouldn't, but I can't help the way I feel
This love is forbidden, yet I can't let it go unreal"
Forbidden love can be a tale of great complexi...
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I finally motion for him to take a seat, but barely wait until he sits before I start with the questions.
"Why didn't you come find me immediately when you found out about the Nakamura account?" I ask. My voice is more even and calm than it has been all day, but if my tone is still a little accusatory, it's because he deserves it.
"I tried, honestly," he says, shrugging, his eyebrows knitting together. "But... You've been a little harder to track down lately. And...if you don't mind my saying, a bit unapproachable. But I swear it was just a few hours between my finding out and your finding out."
His answer is not satisfactory to me, but I force my features to remain as expressionless as I can. I don't want to blow up again over this, but I still need him to know how fucking serious the situation is. It's not like we have a damn money tree growing in the courtyard. We need to keep this account.
"Precious hours that we need to prepare, to convince Nakamura that we are the best candidates for the job." I sigh. "There are a lot of firms out there who would love to take Nakamura off our hands. We have to stay vigilant, Tate. That's what I pay you for."
"Yes, sir." He's nodding, but I can't tell if it's sinking in, and I can start to feel my anger rise again.
"Why didn't you call me?" I ask. This is the goddamned twenty-first century. "Email? Text? Fucking... Facebook?"
"I tried," he says, simply. "Is your phone off?"
In a huff, I fish it out of my pocket and toss it down onto the desk. The screen is dark. I tap it. Still dark.
Somehow, I resist the overwhelming urge to pick it up and smash it against the wall. I haven't met Tate's gaze again, but I know he's looking directly at me, and I know he's feeling more than a little vindicated.
So now I'm not only an ass, but I'm a fucking stupid ass.
Fuck.
I really do only have myself to blame this time, though.
David had texted me earlier, saying he wanted to talk soon, and I wanted to avoid having to speak to him about Mia, so I just shut off the ringer.
I affix Tate with a death stare. "Got it. I'll keep my phone on. But you know where my office is, Tate. Next time, send a fucking carrier pigeon if you have to. Smoke signals outside my window. Whatever you have to do." I sigh again, knowing I can't be as mad at him now as I was earlier. Not after my part in all of this. "Anyway, let's get to work."
"Yes, sir."
We've got several hours ahead of us, and nobody is going to leave this office—not Tate, not me, not Mia or Aileen—until we have a strategy in place to keep Nakamura happy and to keep his business with us.
Somewhere along the line, it's clear that I've fucked up. No matter what little failings happen along the way with my staff, I have to take the ultimate responsibility. And if we lose Nakamura, there's only one person who will ultimately shoulder the burden for that—and I don't want to be in the position of letting people go because I don't have the volume of business to support them anymore.
