Her Rules and His

By the time Andrew Boston reached for the phone, it had rung seven times. Seven nerve-grating rings and if it rung once more, he was likely to throw it, the desk, the computer, and quite possibly the entire contents of his plush tenth-floor Docklands office out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
To say his day wasn’t going well was an understatement. It was barely ten o’clock, and he’d already been at his office six hours dealing with a North American software company run by dyslexic chimpanzees.
How the company had survived this long was beyond him. Clearly, he was their last resort. The desperate call for help two days ago now left him sitting amongst a mountain of paperwork and business accounts.
His assessment of the company’s recovery was dire. Nevertheless, his job was to bring order to businesses in chaos.
Where was Juliet?
And why couldn’t company owners seek professional business help before they ran into trouble? He gave the reinforced windows a considering glance as he lifted the receiver.
“Andrew Boston.” Annoyance at having to answer a call his assistant should have intercepted vibrated in his voice.
“Boston, you want to tell me why your wife is trying to take my company?”
The angry reference to a wife he no longer had threw Andrew. Something clenched deep in his gut at the mention of her. He rubbed the back of his neck to relieve some of the tension caused by six hours of hunched-over concentration.
He hadn’t seen Michelle since December.
Running into her at his parents’ annual Christmas party had been a surprise, but they’d been civil. Not that he could imagine Michelle being anything other than painfully civil toward him.
He didn’t want the reminder of his ex-wife.
Regrets and thoughts of might-have-beens habitually followed, and he refused to dwell on his mistakes.
He pushed the thoughts away. “What are you talking about, Lydell?”
Andrew swung his chair around to face the tinted floor-to-ceiling windows lining the wall behind him.
Patrick Lydell’s craggy voice crackled through the phone line. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t know your wife is working for Kirkham and Hull, or that they’re representing William Evans, who’s trying to steal my company?”
“Of course I know where Michelle works, but this is the first I’ve heard of a takeover.”
“Well let me tell you something, my boy,” Patrick ran on, “and you can tell this to your wife. I’ve worked too hard to sit back and let anyone—especially Evans—take my company from me in some hostile bid. If she’s looking for a fight, she’s got one.” The phone crashed down in his ear.
Andrew glared at the handset, slammed it down, and stood with shoulders rigid. He dug his hands into his trouser pockets to keep from giving in to the impulse to fling the thing against the far wall.
After listening to what Michelle thought of him last Christmas, he’d vowed to stay out of her life. And, as she’d taken pains to point out, she was no longer his responsibility.
As a thought occurred to him, he bit back a word that would make his mum flick his ear if she heard him utter it. Michelle owned twelve percent equity in Lydell Electronics, which placed her in the position of possible insider trading.
His day just got worse.
He had to go and see Michelle.