Chapter 69 - The Heads that will Roll (1/2)

”Conference room, five minutes,” Gabriel mutters to the phone. On the other end, Mrs. Gomez, Gabriel's trusty old receptionist and the de-facto executive ȧssistant (because Claire wouldn't handle this, he knows), trembles—she knows something bad is up.

Mrs. Gomez is grace under pressure—she calls up the entire Legal Department and Finance Department of TXCI Holdings, which occupy offices on the lower floors of the building. Gabriel is pissed; she has never seen him this angry, not since the breakup with Michelle. It seems rage is, well, all the rage right now, with Gabriel.

Meanwhile, in his office, Gabriel is solemnly putting on his suit. His eye catches the coffee-stained wall, the first casualty of his anger, and realizes it looks like a world, a galaxy that exploded. Well, if what Michelle had the liver to tell him here, his world is indeed exploding.

What stews in his brain is shock. Disbelief. The merger was supposedly routine; this wasn't the first time he sought it as a means for his business' growth. There were set protocols. People knew what had to be done. So what went wrong? Who fuċkėd up? And perhaps most importantly, who betrayed him?

He steps out of the office and sees Claire slumped at her desk. For a small moment, he feels sorry for her. There are a lot of things he wants to explain to her, but there's no time. Not yet. Not now. And maybe, if Michelle is really setting up office in this building, right here on this floor just to rub salt on his wound, then he needs to revisit his arrangement with Claire. Keep her out of harm's way. It won't do her good to be so near this fire.

Claire sees him and immediately she stands up. ”Gabriel,” she says. ”Do you need me?”

He gazes at her. Of course, he needs her. He needs her in his mess of a life. He is consumed with this deep longing to spend every moment of his life with her. But it stays on the tip of his tongue; always on the tip of his tongue. He's still not in a good place as far as his heart is concerned. And with what's happening right now, Gabriel realizes this might not be a good time to fall in love. Maybe he should keep things professional. Kill this love, as the popular song goes.

So he says, ”I'm fine, Bella. You can take the rest of the day off.”

That's it. He turns his back on her like she means nothing. Like she's nothing more than an employee. As if the past few days never happened. But the look on her face when he said that—it will haunt him.

But an interloper has slipped past his defenses and infiltrated his empire. This problem needs all his attention, his energy. This is the worst time for gentleness.

Meanwhile, Claire doesn't know what to feel. How could Gabriel suddenly turn cold and distant? Doesn't he need her at a time like this? Why are men such ȧssholes when it comes to their true feelings? Or maybe Claire's insecurity and self-doubt actually had a basis—that she'd been deluded into thinking that her boss actually cared about her. So when Gabriel told her she can actually go home, even if it's still mid-day, Claire suddenly finds her entire afternoon empty. She watches Gabriel walk away. Everything suddenly feels different. As though the world has just turned upside-down.

Everyone who matters is already in the conference room when Gabriel arrives. It's a room full of suits, Gabriel thinks, but no brains. His rage burbles underneath his cool exterior. These are the people who should have helped him avoid the huge fuċk-up that is Michelle Alcantara's Relentless Holdings getting a foothold in his own empire. Imagine the audacity of that coup d'état. Imagine that.

He takes his usual place at the head of the conference table. No one's speaking. No one even dares to clear their throat or fake-coughs or makes the slightest noise with whatever paper they're holding. Perhaps everyone's holding their breath.

”I want to know what in hell happened,” Gabriel begins. He turns to his chief finance officer, a silver-haired man with an unlikely smooth face. ”Who vetted for Relentless Holdings?”

”I-uhh,” the man mutters, but words seem to have lodged in his throat.

”Is there a problem with them?” a younger lawyer at the other end of the table says. ”The merger has been finalized weeks ago. You've signed the documents.”