Page 7 of Obey

The supplier's latest figures aren't adding up.

I've checked the prototype yield rates against our material costs twice, and the shipping schedule isn't doing us any favors. One delay could set this launch back weeks, all because somebody couldn't fucking manage a production calendar.

I set my glasses aside and study the numbers again. There has to be something I'm missing, and I'll be damned if I let it cost us months of work. Not with the launch this close.

Elias knocks twice before letting himself in.

“If it’s not a miracle supplier with three hundred units in stock, it can wait.”

Elias closes the door behind him, a takeout bag dangling from one hand.

"Tell me you've made some progress since I left."

"Plenty."

"Enough to take twenty minutes and eat?"

I don't bother looking up. "Depends. Are you offer me a solution for this vendor problem or badger me about my eating habits again?"

He sets the bag directly on top of my blueprints. The smell of Thai food hits me before I can protest, and my stomach chooses that exact moment to betray me.

Elias's mouth curves. "Eat, Nathaniel."

“I don’t need you hounding me. I need to get this done.” I snap, sharper than I mean to.

Elias comes around the desk before I can say another word. His fingers slide into my hair, tightening just enough to pull my head back.

"Enough. I won't stand here and watch you destroy yourself over a launch, Nathaniel. Not when all you need to do is sit your stubborn ass down and eat."

His grip tightens another fraction, and despite how pissed off I am, my body responds. It always does when Elias puts his hands on me.

"Eat," he tells me. "Or I'll feed you myself."

I hold out for another few seconds before reaching for the bag. Pad see ew, green curry, and two sets of chopsticks. The bastard even remembered the extra chilies. I hate him a little for knowing me this well.

I don’t thank him, but I dig in, my mouth instantly burning with the heat. Elias takes the chair across from me, apparently determined to supervise every bite.

I don't bother telling him to leave. We both know how that argument would end.

"I scheduled an interview for tomorrow morning," Elias says, sliding his tablet across the desk.

I glance at the résumé on the screen. "For what?"

"Client Experience Coordinator. Sloane Harper. Take a look at her work history."

Five years supporting senior executives, a four-year employment gap, then another two years with a smaller firm here in San Francisco. And still she’s multilingual, experienced, and more than qualified to handle the demands of this office.

I scroll down to her most recent position. Nine months since she was laid off.

"She's overqualified."

"That's what I thought."

I set my food down, even more irritated than when he first walked in here. "No."

"I haven't asked you anything."

"You don't have to. I know exactly where this is going."