Perfect, on the opposite side of the building. I reverse course like a rocket, but she grabs my jacket. “Necktie. Cologne. You’re a mess,” she says, handing me the silk Drake’s that I keep in the office and that I tie as she sprays me with her Eau de Guerlain.
“That’s women’s perfume,” I protest.
“You’ll live. Go.”
I burst into the Windsor Room, eliciting a gasp from everyone seated at the polished mahogany table. The Bradford brothers look perplexed, while Saxton just looks like he wants to kill me.
“Sorry, traffic was a mess this morning,” I justify myself.
“Not a problem, D’Arcy,” replies the eldest Bradford. “We’re practically done. Lawrence answered all our questions regarding the portfolio diversification proposal.”
Ah, they’re already done. Even though the delay is on me, I’m annoyed I wasn’t able to present my proposal myself. “If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to call me,” I reply affably.
We shake hands and they leave. Before I can go, Saxton stops me. “Sit down, Michael. We need to talk.”
I obey, pretending I don’t have a concern in the world. “What’s on your mind?”
“This isn’t good.”
“The Bradfords seemed satisfied with my investment plan,” I bluff.
“You’re too smart not to understand what I’m talking about.” Saxton sits in front of me. “But if you really want me to, I’ll enlighten you: At Friday’s briefing, you were falling asleep.”
“I was thinking.”
“You were asleep, Michael.”
“Okay,” I admit. I struggle to keep up with my own relentless schedule, and I’m caving under the exhaustion. I didn’t think it was that obvious, though.
“At the HSBC meeting, you presented the wrong draft of your presentation.”
“But I killed it,” I defend myself.
He gives me a cold look. “Stop talking back. You’re trying my patience.”
I raise my hands in surrender, and he continues with his litany of grievances. “You missed two meetings this week and ... how long has it been since you shaved?”
“I’m resting my skin.”
“Do it this weekend.”
“Okay, I realize I’ve been underperforming ever so slightly as of late, but I can assure you my business instincts are intact.”
“You’re the best, Michael. You’re even better than your brother—may he rest in peace—but if you’re not at the top of your game, you’re of no use to me.”
At the mention of my brother, I clench my jaw, annoyed. Everyone thinks it’s a compliment to compare us, but no one realizes there’s nothing that offends me more.
“Do you want to fire me?” I ask directly.
“Never. We’re equal partners, but we can’t go on like this.” Saxton stands up, shoves his hands in his pockets, and saunters around the table. “I’m old; I want to enjoy my final years, my grandchildren, and my money. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think it’s best you know: When I retire, I intend to gift you my entire share. You’ll be the sole proprietor.”
My jaw nearly falls to the floor in amazement. “Are you serious? Sax, I don’t know how to thank you, I ...”
“But not in your current state,” he interrupts me, serious.
“What state?”
“You’re addicted to work, but you can’t handle the massive load you’ve taken on. You’re so obsessed with the company, with our business, that you don’t even understand what you’re doing anymore. You work in the evening, you work on the weekend, you work while you eat, you work while you sleep ...”
