Lewis is just where Paol thought he’d be—in his office with his cell phone to his ear. “Hang up,” Paol says, sinking into the plush leather chair in front of Lew’s desk.
“I’m on hold.” Lewis takes in the set of Paol’s mouth, the hands fisted at Paol’s lap, and slips into professional mode, that mask of his that looks like a perpetual glower. “What’s up?”
“Get off the phone.” Paol keeps his voice even, civil. “We need to talk.”
“About?” Lewis wants to know.
“Adam.”
If Lewis is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He just grunts and rolls his eyes, the hint of an irritating grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.
Paol waits a minute. When Lewis doesn’t speak, he adds, “If you don’t hang up that goddamn phone, I’m walking out this door and taking my half of the company with me. You can
