Chapter 2

The annual party had turned into a gratitude rally.

Finn, loose with drink, worked the room table by table, spraying spit as he painted castles in the air.

I made an excuse and slipped back to my office early.

Less than ten minutes later, Max's footsteps came down the hall, that familiar tread getting closer.

"Boss," he said, pushing my office door open and poking his head in, a look of warm concern on his face. "You really opened my eyes today."

He stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him.

"I honestly thought you'd be the first one to speak up against it."

I didn't look up, just kept sorting the papers on my desk.

"What good would that do? Besides offending the boss, what would it get me?"

"That's true, but..." Max ambled over to my desk, angling his body to one side as if it meant nothing.

As he talked, he casually slid one hand into his pocket.

"Weren't you saying that this year-end bonus was going toward the down payment on your new place?"

"You even took me along last month when you went to look at it."

He leaned on the words "year-end bonus" and "down payment," pronouncing each one a little too clearly.

At the same time, out of the corner of my eye, I caught his hand in that pocket, thumb working restlessly against the volume button on the side of his phone.

Ah. The record button.

Same recipe, same flavor.

In my last life, this was exactly how he'd done it, cutting and splicing my words together.

Turning me into a villain who cared only about money and didn't give a damn whether the company lived or died.

I laughed to myself, but on my face I let a perfectly measured trace of loss and resignation surface.

"The down payment?"

I let out a long sigh, quiet, but plenty loud enough for the phone in his pocket to pick up clean.

"How could a down payment matter more than the company's future?"

I raised my head and looked straight at him, my eyes lit with the glow of someone who'd seen the light.

"Max, you're still young, you don't understand. Mr. Lambert carries a company this size on his own shoulders. Do you know how hard that is, how much it costs him?"

"As his employees, we can't just think about taking from the company. We have to think about giving back to it."

"This year-end bonus, forget the company struggling and not paying it out. Even if they did pay it, I'd hand it right back!"

"Weathering hard times together with the company, that's the kind of responsibility an employee should have!"

I made sure to pitch it high and stirring, all noble sacrifice.

The smile froze on Max's face.

He'd probably been hoping to record me griping about not having the money for a down payment, and instead he'd captured a model-employee commendation speech.

His eyes darted around. He was clearly scrambling for a new angle.

"Boss... you, you're serious?"

"Of course I'm serious!" I slapped the desk and stood, looking down at him, my tone leaving no room for doubt.

"And that's not all! I'm going to back it up with real action!"

"To help the company cut costs and get through this rough patch, I've decided..."

I paused on purpose, and was pleased to see the light of curiosity and greed kindle in his eyes.

"...to hand every one of my most important major clients over to you!"

"You've always told me you wanted to run big projects on your own, to really test yourself, to raise your own value, haven't you?"

"Well, now's your chance!"

For one instant, Max's eyes lit up bright as a pair of hundred-watt bulbs.

It was greed, naked and unhidden.

Everyone knew that those major clients of mine, Mr. Chavez, Mr. Finch, and Janet Lawrence, were the company's absolute lifeline.

It had taken me three whole years to pry them loose from the competition and lock them down tight.

The orders those clients placed every year accounted for a third of the company's annual profit.

But they were also the hardest patrons alive to please.

Brutal demands, an insane eye for detail, one misplaced punctuation mark could sink an entire deal.

In my last life, Max had hinted more than once, sometimes openly, that he wanted a piece of these core accounts, that I was treating him like an outsider, keeping things from him.

Now I was serving that scalding slab of prime meat right up to his mouth.

How could he possibly refuse?

"Are... are you serious, boss?"

His voice actually trembled, worked up beyond anything.

"You'd really hand Mr. Chavez and the others over to me?"

"Of course." I gave him a faint smile, kind as a saint. "You're my apprentice. If I don't develop you, who am I going to develop? Do good work. Don't let me down."

"Thank you, boss! Thank you! I will! I swear I won't let you or Mr. Lambert down!"

He tripped over his own thanks, as if terrified I'd change my mind in the next breath.

Then he spun around and bolted for the door, no doubt itching to go report the win to Finn.

I watched him practically flee, and the curve at the corner of my mouth grew colder.

Go on.

Take this big gift I'm handing you, and hold on to it.

You'd better be able to hold on to it.