Michael POV
Morning light cut across my desk, warming the mahogany surface I'd been staring at since dawn. Below my window, New York stirred to life, car horns, voices, the pulse of the city I'd always called home.
And yet my so-called home is starting to crumble before my very eyes with my company, my sweat and everything going down the drain.
I traced my finger along the edge of the manila folder in front of me. Another quarter, another loss. The numbers told a story I didn't want to read - our Hong Kong market share dropping month after month, each percentage point a wound inflicted by Lane fucking International.
The thought of that name pisses me off beyond normal, but as much as they are poison to us, they are also an antidote to get to the point we need, however, they keep tuning down our request for a meeting without a reason and I'm getting tired.
Like what do they want?
My company is dying every second I'm here doing nothing but my patience is thinning rather fa
