?MICHAEL?
It shouldn’t have been easy for him to know exactly who was behind the door and getting ready to barge in — he really wasn’t proud of the fact. Even if he didn’t hear the high pitched tones of his secretary attempting to stall the person, or the familiar footfalls of a man who walked with both determination and power, he sure as hell knew only one person who could barge into the conference room during an important meeting and damn the consequences—his grandfather.
After storming into the room, he would proceed to throw orders that would make people scurry to their feet in a matter of seconds.
Michael scoffed at the thought.
He shrugged his suddenly tense shoulders for a few seconds, preparing for the grand entrance of white-haired man who would ask him how much more money Michael needed to make.
Not that money was a problem — it never was for Michael.
He just hated idleness and complacency more than anything else, more than anything that inspired him, and that was something worth getting out of bed for.
It was a pity that all of this mattered little to his grandfather — the prestige, the power and ultimate control.
Slam!
Everyone but Michael jolted at the sound of the door slamming against the wall, then they subtly tried to sit straighter or adjusted their clothes.
Michael clenched his jaw as a stony glare carved into his grey eyes in greeting to his grandfather, waiting for the show that was to come. The older man did not disappoint.
The room was cleared in seconds — it didn’t take much for the board members to promptly get on their way. If anything, they were eager to move on, the lateness of the day already bearing on them.
“You, out,” his grandfather said to the secretary in the same stern manner.
She hesitated, glancing toward Michael with uncertainty, but Michael waved her away, dismissing her.
After everyone left, his grandfather planted himself in front of Michael with a disapproving look.
All in all, it was an impressive show of the prestige and power a person could possess, and how much his grandfather could control the world. Still, Michael remained unimpressed — he had heard the same lecture he knew he was about to receive and countless variations of it since he was in his mid-twenties. Now nearly five years later, he was quite bored of it.
"I see that you still enjoy throwing your weight around," he said with a sigh.
Michael Senior’s stony countenance transformed into a grin as he locked eyes with his grandson. “An old man must have his pleasures; you leave so much of it out there for everyone else."
"There's always work to be done," he countered, which was the truth.
Asking anyone would reveal that Michael Harper III was a workaholic. A rumor among his staff indicated he needed less than five hours of sleep — and that was true.
At the age of thirty, he had already made impressive progress on anyone’s scale. His appearance helped his impression too, at six feet and four inches, his hair in constant but stylish disarray with strands scattered above silver-grey eyes that barely warmed but could freeze into arctic temperatures in mere seconds.
He was tough but fair. He demanded the best from his workers and only perfection from himself, all day, every day. He worked seven days a week, clocking twelve hours each day, which was easy to see where the rumors started.
As the CEO of Harper Enterprises, there was more than enough on his plate. Even if he could delegate tasks, he rarely did, and instead pushed himself beyond limits.
"When did you last go out with a woman?" his grandfather asked.
It’s been months.Michael sighed, his hand straying to the slightly chafing knot of his tie. "I don't have time,” he replied, regarding the older man with eyes he hoped would convey his disinterest and aversion to the current topic of discussion.
"People make time,” his grandfather scoffed. “When was the last time you took a day off?"
His grandfather had a way of doing that — blowing him off without a pause or consideration for what Michael just said. Michael mentally winced, knowing his grandfather would not appreciate the thoughts currently running through his mind.
"I can't quite afford to leave the daily running of the company to the board of directors. They need only one night to run everything to the ground, what with all the petty bickering and private feuds. It can become a war zone here." He frowned, raking his long fingers through his dark hair, and tugging at it for one quick second before his hands slid to his face in complete exasperation.
Michael averted his eyes toward the desk, and he missed the nostalgic look that crossed his grandfather's face. He knew the older man would want to haul him into a close hug, but Michael was averse to that — strongly.
"Not even for the night?” his grandfather countered. “Or were you planning to stay another night in your office?”
