Page 1 of Words Unspoken

Chapter One

It was happening again. Michael watched dispassionately as the dark shadowy specter followed Christian Gains around the conference room. It hovered perhaps three feet off the ground, wandering after Gains like a well-trained dog. Michael sighed and rubbed his eyes, but he knew that would not help.

The specter would still be there. A dark cloudy patch of fog disturbing him.

It had been showing up for three weeks, distracting him. It was a nuisance. Michael is head pounded harder. He wondered if anyone else could hear the hundreds of miniature woodpeckers hammering away inside his head. He glanced at his Rolex. Noon. Only noon and he had already used up all his prescribed migraine medications.

Gains took Michael is glance at his watch as a signal to wrap up the meeting and mercifully did so. Michael calmly watched as the cloudy black figure decided to follow John Pritchard out the glass doors and along the corridor.

Colin Ozzit slapped Michael on the shoulder. “Well, the FDA won’t like it, but I am sure our new Director of the board will be able to smooth it all out.”

Michael gave a reserved smile. He had found throughout the years that a reserved and calm attitude made people instinctively trust, respect, and admire him. He probably seemed much smarter than he was. “The acquisition of Claymont Pharma is a good business decision for our company. While it may restrict the market further, Claymont had already decreased its presence there. I am sure the FDA will agree that it is the best long-term solution.”

Ozzit laughed obnoxiously. “That is why you are the man for the job.”

Michael nodded. He gathered up the materials from the meeting and walked the short distance to his office. He was not the man for the job, Michael reflected. Max had been the man for the job. Max had been confident, inspiring, able to sweet talk his way through anything. His youngest brother was perfect at lobbying to get exactly what the company wanted. Unfortunately, their father David Ramesly, just recently retired, and Max had not seen eye to eye. To be fair, Max had been right. Now Max no longer worked with Ramesly Pharmaceuticals. Which meant the task fell to Michael.

The Claymont deal was Michael is first large test in the eyes of big business as the new head of the company. Either he would fail, and everyone would think that he had only received the position due to the fact that he was David is firstborn, or he would succeed and make his mark. He smoothed down his suit as he took a seat in his comfortable leather chair behind his mahogany desk.

Ann had followed him into his office with a memo pad. She closed the door behind her, automatically getting a glass of water and putting down two of her own stash of over the counter pain medication on his desk with the glass. He looked at them for a moment, debating if he should tell her the pills would not put a dent in his migraine and that he was on far stronger medications. Of course, he didn’t. He didn’t tell anyone about the medications. Or that he had a constant headache for the past six months. Or that he was hallucinating black specters that floated behind people ominously. The only one he told was the doctor.

Michael took the pills anyways and tried to focus on what Ann was saying. “Gentlemans Quarterly called again. They are still trying to get you for the cover. They promise to send over the interview questions before so that we can approve them.”

“Absolutely not.” Unlike his brother Max who had enjoyed being the center of attention, Michael did not. He much preferred his privacy.

“Same response for Business Weekly?”

“Please.”

Ann tilted her head to the side and studied him for a moment. “Business Weekly has been asking for years. With you now being the head of the company, it might be good press.”

“No thank you,” Michael said softly but firmly. Chairing a conference was one thing. Working through meetings was okay. Even committee hearings he could do if he was well prepared. Going one on one with someone and knowing that every word you said would be recorded for posterity, with expectations of delving into his personal life? No. Not possible. Besides, he had no personal life. He jogged the beach. He read extensively. He sailed. He worked twelve to eighteen hour days as he had done from the age of twenty at the family business. There was nothing else.

“Dr. Reynolds’ office called. They have an opening today at one,” there was a soft and unspoken query from his secretary with that statement. Ann was sharp and she had been with him for over twenty years.

Twenty-two years, eight months, and nine days. But who was counting?

“Test results from my father. He is on that cruise with Mom for the next four months,” Michael lied. It was his own test results. He would find out today if he was losing his mind. “Unless there is something pressing, please confirm with Dr. Reynolds for one o’clock.”

“No, there is nothing urgent,” Ann paused for a moment and looked like she wanted to say something more. “I will set up the appointment.”

“Ann?” he asked, causing her to stop from exiting the office. “Is there something else?”

“I was going to talk to you about something,” she said reluctantly. “It can wait until the end of the day.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes. The end of the day would be better,” Ann gave him a smile. “You should eat something. I will get you a sandwich and coffee sent up from the cafeteria.”

He nodded because it was easier than explaining that he didn’t really want to eat anything. The pain in his head made his stomach nauseous. Or maybe it was the numerous drugs he was swallowing. He watched her return to her desk to make phone calls. When she tilted her head just so, the sunlight made it shine like burnished gold. He caught his breath for a moment, watching her through the glass.

She really was beautiful.

He ought to stop staring, mooning after her. It was not professional. Of course, he had been doing it for twenty years, so it was a natural response, like breathing the air or drinking water. Twenty-two years, eight months and nine days, his mind corrected him. Michael stared down at the briefing from the Claymont deal. The words blurred and he blinked hard to bring them back into focus. He grabbed a legal pad and jotted down notes to try to win the FDA over. At some point the coffee and sandwich arrived. He managed the coffee and half the sandwich. It was all he could stomach.

Ann knocked on his door, poking her head in. “The car has arrived.”

Seven months ago, he had come to the decision to use a company car and driver to go everywhere. With the pain from the headaches, it made sense. His own Beamer sat useless in the parking garage of the downtown condo. People from the company had probably thought it had more to do with his position, but he actually preferred to drive himself. He just no longer trusted himself to drive.