ACoL 2. Deal

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Hughes cleared his through, pretending he heard nothing about hell, and gestured for his nephew to take a seat, while signaling for a waiter not far. Michaelson regained his composure and smile at the two men,

"I apologize for my delay. Uncle. Mr Ashborne, a pleasure meeting you again."

The fake smile he sported on as he sat in the remaining empty place on the table gave goomebumps to Ryan. If anything, he had to praize that firecracker head for learning patience.

The waiter appeared and poured water into their glasses, and retreated with a polite bow, Michaelson would have voluntary given his everything for that water to turn into wine, and the one in front of him to change into anyone else. Of all people, Jade's ex! However, at this juncture, he couldn't afford to be picky.

"I don't know if uncle has already broached all the aspects with you?" He said directly, not even pretending to make small talks. Though he was smiling for what he hope appeared politely, he was giving his all out to remain compose. This day had been a nightmare, one that was still very much ongoing. 

"All aspects," repeated Ryan, a brow raised while glancing at Hughes. "Not at all. I'd rather discuss directly with my client. Since said client appears to be an acquaintance, how about you let us catch up a bit."

The older man had no intention of refuting him. Although both men didn't say it outright, the faint whisps of mint coming from Michaelson was clear indication that he was anything but in a happy mood to get a helper. Actually, considering the agression he felt in those pheromones, he vaguely wondered if it would end in a brawl. Anyway, Ryan was a beta and wouldn't be affected and he certainly could hold his own in a fist match against his nephew.

So, quite irresponsibly, Hughes left the premises, phone in hand, scrolling through it, while wondering who else he could recommend for his little Mikey to work with.

Watching the old man leaved, Ryan took his gaze back to Ryan, needlessly twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers, leaning back against the chair as though he had all the time in the world. 

"An assistant, was it?"

For some reasons, Michaelson needed an assistant with a wide range of skills, but with particular expertise in civil engineering, accounting, marketing and auditing. 

"A beta assistant for our proud Alpha."

Michaelson stiffened. His jaw clenched as vague memories of him saying to the other person that his whole life he could only be beaneath alphas surged.

Damn!

"I can apologize for the past if you like"

"Now, now, don't be like that, alphas aren't ones to apologize, are they?"

He was gonna repeat their whole pasts interactions for him to rebuke him, right.

He was desperate indeed, but not to the point of completely humiliating himself. Michaelson made a motion to stand up, but Ryan tsked, ordering him to sit down.

"You really need to check that temper of yours. How are you gonna hold your oh so great family business otherwise. I didn't say I wouldn't do it now, did I? Let's order and talk while eating." He smiled mischiveously. After all, between the two of them, shouldn't Ryan's be the one more angry than not? Worthless beta clinging to Jade's coattails, weren't those words the favorite ones of this alpha in front of him. He was eager to know precisely just what kind of mess was golden boy's here in for him to take his words so well until now.

Michaelson comptemplated for a moment before remembering his grandfather's words about sending him to a branch company and seemed to make a decision, downed his glass, before finally snapping, his voice low and controlled. "Are you done?"

Ryan nodded for him to continue.

Michaelson inhaled slowly, forcing composure. "I can promise you thrice your market price."

"And thrice the hours", jeered Ryan, Michaelson shoting him a glare, "but please, continue."

"But you'll be working for me and only me"

'And won't you like that, throwing your weight around already.'

"However the environment would be hostile."

'Hadn't it always been in your presence?'

"I don't need loyalty. I need efficiency. And from what my uncle tells me, you have that in spades."

Ryan coudn't help but chuckled, low and unamused. "Efficiency. That's what you call it when someone cleans up your messes while you pretend it was your brilliance all along, isn't it? How flattering."

Michaelson pursed his lips.

"Well, either way, I trust you t to get the work done. Do we have a deal?"

Ryan looked at him carefully, leaning forward,

"Let me make one thing clear. If I am to work in a team, then I'm the leader of said team. I want full authority over how I deal with anyone under my management."

One of the very reason he was in freelance was because he was his own boss.

Michaelson was silent for a moment, before, saying in a hoarse voice.

"I'll see what I can do."

Ryan laughed, an angry one. That answer was enough to give him more information than Michaelson wouldn have like.

"You have zero authority over them do you?!"

The other's eyes turned cold.

"Well, let's not make it difficult for you, as long as you don't micromanage everything, we're gonna be fine. When do I start?"

Michaelson thought of his grandfather's sneer at dinner, the smug smirks of his cousins, the endless sabotage at every corner. He hated the thought of depending on Ryan—hated it so much it burned in his chest—but the alternative was worse: failure. Just for the sake of annoying them all, even if he had to go south in three months and be the director of the branch company, he had to make these months worthwhile!

He forced the words out, each one bitter on his tongue. "Tomorrow report to my office," he said sliding his business card, "For what's it's worth, you'll have autonomy. No interference. But I want results."

Ryan leaned back again, satisfaction flickering across his face. "Yeah, let's keep in mind respect: You ask nicely, and I deliver miracles. You bark orders, and I disappear."

Michaelson gritted his teeth but said nothing.

"Now, let's enjoy our dinner!" He smiled.

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