Free Unfaithful by Devon Scott Page A

comes first.
    He now sits in his chair, fumbling with the stylus of his Ipaq, half-listening to the back-and-forth banter between his guys and Chin, known to everyone as Chinny, the head of production in Malaysia. Ryan allowed his team to take the lead, as he is fond of doing, stepping away from the limelight, letting his guys run things, only inserting himself when leadership is needed.
    As usual, the finger pointing is reaching an all-time high. Production blames Engineering for the defect, which has led to the slow-down on the line. Engineering, on the other hand, states unequivocally that their designs are sound. They have schematics and computer models to prove their case. So the drama continues.
    R U OK???
    Ryan stares at the screen. Taps the stylus against the glass quietly in time to a rhythm only he comprehends. Checks his watch. Sits forward, clearing his throat.
    “Okay,” he says, standing, pressing his tie against his starched blue and white striped shirt, “I think everyone’s had ample time to make a solid case. Problem is, we still have an issue with the line. So…Jan, Chinny…I need answers and a game plan.”
    He stares at his Senior Design Engineer named Janice—a dumpy-looking white woman in her mid-twenties, who dresses terribly and has clingy brown hair. A permanent scowl adorns her face, yet she is brilliant, the best they have. His gaze pans to the plasma attached to the back wall. On screen, Chinny is sitting at his desk juggling golf balls. As usual, he is smiling, no matter how dire the circumstances. “Two hours—handle it offline, cool?”
    Janice nods.
    “You got it, boss,” Chinny says a bit too happily.
    “Great.” He shuts the call down. Janice and the two others rise; they gather their things to leave. He turns back to his laptop when they are gone, scans his messages and the calendar for the day. Isn’t feeling any of it. So, he picks up the phone.
    “Sharon, I’m outta here. Let the department heads know, if you would.”
    “No problem, but did you forget about the staff meeting—”
    He cuts her off in mid-sentence.
    “Anything critical—I’m reachable on my cell.” He kills the line before she can respond or complain.
    R U OK???
    Ryan picks up his briefcase, snaps his laptop shut. The sound is hollow, reverberating across the room. He reaches for the door, pauses momentarily, glancing back at his clean desk. He reaches it in two strides. Punching the button underneath, the walls go clear.
    His gaze rises from floor to wall. Stare meets Olivia’s for a brief moment.
    But only an instant.
    Then he is descending the stairs, meandering through the expanse of cube-space as if on a mission, briefcase swinging indolently. Moments later, he is out the door and gone, and Olivia is left with the same gnawing feeling that, like bile, rises in her throat, making it hard to breathe.
    Once again…

Chapter 16
    She is in her office, the sleek, black plastic phone cradled to one ear, her head cocked to the side, fingers splayed, rapidly moving as if playing an instrument. The clicks from the mini-keyboard are drowned out by the segment she’s editing—displayed on the flat screen on the wall in front of her.
    She is nodding her head, emitting short grunts in agreement to certain action items in the conversation—details lost as her assistant hands her pink slips of paper that she ruffles through absentmindedly. To the left, her BlackBerry is vibrating, the blue plastic case shuddering as if in orgasm. Behind her, Outlook is chiming, signaling incoming mail. Her mind is a jet fighter—traveling supersonic, pitching and yawing, evading enemy capture. This morning, she is multitasking to her fullest capabilities. It’s what the job entails, and it is only after nine.
    A shadow crosses her desk. Carly glances up, only to spy the grin of Tyler Nichols, dressed impeccably in a double-breasted, navy pinstripe suit. He is wearing a bright solid yellow tie, which is so incredibly