Mr.arrogant(3)

"Well, I'm working on it. I just really want to get this job at Cross,  and then I feel like I'll be able to breathe easier and things will go  really well." Naomi slid her dark brown fingers into her black curls and  tugged absentmindedly at a strand of her hair.

She'd graduated college and had been hired pretty quickly in the  business field. She had been lucky and landed a good job. She was a hard  worker and she was promoted quickly because of her ambition and her  keen intelligence. The job market had changed and she changed jobs with  it; and when she did, she found herself headed down a career path in  which she had no real interest.

In an effort to get back on the right track, she began to put her resume  out in the business field again to see if she could land her dream job.  She wanted a job where she could grow with the company and advance past  glass ceilings. She wanted to become an executive before she was  thirty. She knew she could reach that goal if she was working with the  right company and for the right bosses. Leadership was paramount with  goals like she had, and she knew it.

She researched several companies in Manhattan, and when she found out  that Cross Corporation was hiring, she sent her information in  immediately. She was stunned and far beyond thrilled when they had  contacted her for an interview, but from the moment that she hung up the  phone from that call, she had been walking on pins and needles, hardly  sleeping at night, and she hadn't felt so nervous since she had applied  to the college that she had been dreaming of getting into.

Inviting her best friend Andrea over for coffee had been a two-fold  endeavor. She was glad for the chance to visit with her, but more than  that, she had needed the moral support of someone who truly believed in  her. Since her parents had been killed, she had felt in the depths of  her heart as if she had no one but herself. Most of the time she felt  confident relying on herself, but on those occasions when her own  confidence just wasn't quite enough, it helped her to know that she had a  close friend that she could rely on to boost her up, and Andrea was  just that person.

Andrea and Naomi talked about other things; Andrea was a newlywed who  was still enjoying the golden glow of blissful love, and Naomi was  focused with laser beam intensity on her career. They visited a long  while before Andrea finally stood to leave, hugging Naomi tightly.

"Now, you call me the minute you know about that job with Cross and let  me know how it all worked out, okay? Stop worrying about it; you just go  in there with a positive attitude, you do the interview, and then you  let it all go and just trust that whatever is supposed to happen, will  happen. Okay?" Andrea said as she released her from their hug and set  her hand on the door before walking out.

"I will," Naomi said with a wide grin as her cheeks warmed slightly and  she looked down, her long black eyelashes closing her light blue eyes.  She had gotten her eyes from her father, but her dark skin and curves  had come from her mother. "Thank you so much for everything, Andrea, I  really appreciate it."

Andrea nodded and headed out of the door as Naomi closed it behind her.  As soon as the lock clicked shut, she closed her eyes and leaned her  back against the door. She hadn't intended to talk about her parents.  She almost never spoke of them to anyone ever, and bringing them up on  the spur of the moment as she had with Andrea, had been more painful  than she had shown her friend. Their tragic accident weighed heavy in  Naomi's heart, and she knew that it always would. Her father and mother  were her life, her rock, and losing them had devastated her. The only  reason that she hadn't given in to the grief of it all was because she  felt so strongly that she owed them everything. No matter what, she  couldn't let them down.         

     



 

Nothing could get in the way of her success and her achievement in  reaching her goals. She was working as hard as she was not only for  herself but also for both of them, to thank them for all they had  sacrificed, and to make the most of the precious gifts they had given  her.

She drew a deep breath and felt the heartache seeping out of her eyes.  Knowing that rest was the best thing for her, she went to her bed and  laid down in it, curling her long legs up to her stomach as she hugged a  pillow. She took her mind back to happier days when she was growing up;  moments she had treasured with her parents, and times that she would  always hold onto.

*

Telephones rang, an elevator dinged as the doors slid open, fluorescent  lights hummed almost indistinctly overhead, computer keys tapped  intermittently throughout the room, and the dull murmur of quiet  conversations filled the air of the large working area in the high rise  office building. None of it was being heard in the silent room that was  just down the hall and behind a large wooden door that was closed. It  was a luxurious office that bespoke the wealth and prosperity of both  the company and the man who owned the company.

It was spacious and well lit, with thick dark carpeting, large windows  on two sides and wood cabinets and shelves lining one wall. There was a  private bathroom, a hidden bar, and a casual seating area, as well as a  desk and chairs. That office was silent at that moment because the two  men who were in it were both looking at paperwork. One of the men had  black hair that was silvered at his temples. He had delicate traces of  time etched onto his face in the form of fine lines that crinkled often  around his green eyes, and deeper wrinkles in the skin around his mouth.  His green eyes were looking through his reading glasses at the pages  laid out on his dark mahogany desk.

He was the owner of this company. The younger man sitting studiously  before him was also his; he was his grown son. The younger man closely  resembled his father, Phillip Cross. He too had dark black hair, though  no silver had yet begun to show itself in it, and he had the same sharp  green eyes; like emeralds, deep and mysterious. They both shared the  same squared jaw and full lower lip, high strong cheekbones and dark  brows that furrowed when they were thinking intently or concentrating as  they both were at that moment.

Phillip was still in very good shape physically; he worked out regularly  and it showed. His son Jonathon could have been chiseled from a statue.  Jonathon was solidly built: muscular, trim, and tall. He thought he was  serious looking, but it was the opinion of most everyone else that his  confidence and sternness was arrogance rather than confidence and  practicality.

Jonathon's eyes skimmed swiftly over the paperwork that his father had  given him and in less time than his father had spent looking at it, he  set it back on the old man's desk and leaned back in his chair, tapping  his fingers lightly on the cushioned leather that covered it.

Phillip, well accustomed with his son's impatience, paid him no  attention whatsoever and instead, continued to read through the  paperwork at his own pace. When he was finished, the only sound in the  room that could be heard was the tapping of Jonathon's fingers on the  chair. His father looked up at him as he set the papers down and slowly  slid his reading glasses off of his face. Phillip rested his wrist  against his chin and contemplated his son for a moment before speaking.

"Well, Jonathon, what do you think?" he asked, his eyes keen and piercing on his son's expression.

Jonathon sat up and brought both of his hands to the desktop where he  picked up the first page on top of the stack and lifted it slightly  before dropping it back down like it was hot. "I think it's ridiculous. I  think I just wasted ten minutes of my life that I am never going to get  back again, and I think you should have seen that before I did, and  before you asked me to look at this with you."

His father didn't blink or move, he just watched him for a long moment  before bringing his hands down to his lap and sitting back in his chair,  his gaze unwavering. "Why do you think that?"

Jonathon sighed in frustration and leaned back in his own chair; closely  mimicking his father, though he did not realize he had done it. "If I  wanted to buy a tech company that wasn't making any real headway in the  market, I could find no end of them. This one isn't providing us with  anything that we don't already have. It isn't offering us any new  technology that we could use or that might have any real effect in the  market or the world, and they have a terrible track record. I can't  believe you even brought me in here to look at this, if you want the  truth."         

     



 

Phillip chuckled lightly and nodded. "I thought you'd say that." He  leaned forward and pushed himself away from his desk, and then stood up  and set his glasses down on the paperwork he had been reading. Jonathon  watched him closely.

Phillip walked around the edge of his desk and headed to the corner of  the room where he opened the cabinet that held a wet bar. He reached for  a glass and then looked over his should. "Would you like a scotch?"