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1
Hayden
“Should I let you out here, sir?”
I open my eyes and shove a curtain aside, looking out the car window. Traffic’s at a standstill. I have no idea how long we’ve been sitting here because I kind of, sort of dozed off. I glance at my watch.
“Shit.” Enzo is going to kill me. I’m supposed to meet our new project manager from the FDA with him . . . several minutes ago. I’d run through a burning building for my friend and business partner, but apparently getting to bed at a reasonable time the night before a big meeting is too big of an ask for me. I really, really did not plan to be out so late, or to wake up with company this morning, but a series of rather fortunate events . . .
Focus, Hayden.
I press a button in front of me just below the privacy screen. “Are we going to get moving any time this century, Henry?”
His gravelly voice comes through the speaker, loud and clear. “Doesn’t look good. I think you’d get there faster walking.”
Yup, Enzo is going to kill me.
“Sir?”
I glance out a window, find a landmark, and calculate the remaining distance. As much as I’d prefer not to show up dripping sweat, walking is a better call than making them wait. Or wait longer, as the case may be.
A quick look down at my cell confirms the worst. Two missed calls and even more text messages.
With another touch of a button, the privacy screen slides down between Henry and me. His judgy gaze peers at me from the rearview mirror. He doesn’t mean to come off that way, but a lifetime of working for my father has ingrained an ironclad sense of duty in the man. Even if he is my driver now, not my father’s.
“I’ll be at least two hours.”
Henry blinks. The only sign he’s actually heard me. When I was young I used to think he either couldn’t stand me or was being deliberately disrespectful. But now I know better.
“Enjoy your morning,” I call as I gather my briefcase and jump out of the car. How is it already so damn hot at nine in the morning?
Okay, nine fifteen.
Making my way through the rush-hour crowd, I voice-text Enzo.
Sorry. On my way. Standstill traffic, and I fell asleep in the car.
Just as I’m about to shove my phone back into my pocket, it vibrates. A quick glance tells me what I’ve already guessed: it’s my father. I’m tempted to ignore him, but he’ll only call back until he reaches me.
“Good morning, Father.”
“I thought you had a meeting with the new project manager this morning?”
Hello to you too.
I’m tempted to ask why he’s calling if he knew I had a meeting, but I have too much of a headache to fight with him at the moment. That won’t be a problem anymore once this whole tiresome approval process is over and Enzo and I are able to bring our product to market.
“I’m on my way there now.”
“We can’t afford delays, Hayden.”
I’m not in the mood. It’s hot. My head is pounding. I nearly crashed into a tourist who stopped in the middle of the damn sidewalk to take a picture, and Enzo is texting me as we speak.
“Dad”—he hates when I call him that—“I’m fully aware. We had no control over the last person being transferred, but there’s no reason to think a new project manager will cause any problems.”
“When is the last time you’ve looked at the supplier statements?”
“I talked to P&R last week.”
