Chapter 30: Their Words, Not Mine

Later that afternoon, the Project Manager brought up another proposal.

"We’d like to expand the apprenticeship program," he explained. "We’re still short of skilled workers in several trades."

"Double the intake," Alex suggested.

Giovanni didn’t immediately agree. Instead, he looked toward the Project Manager.

"Can your supervisors properly train twice as many people without affecting productivity?"

"We’d have to stagger the intake."

"Would that work?"

"Yes."

Only then did Giovanni look at Alex.

Alex considered the adjustment for a moment.

"Stagger it."

"Agreed."

The Project Manager made a note and moved on.

That was it.

No one argued over whose suggestion was better or made a pointless compromise just so both CEOs could claim some portion of the decision.

Giovanni had found a weakness in Alex’s suggestion, so they fixed it and moved on.

Alex found himself strangely appreciative.

Dominic had always hated being corrected in front of other people. Even minor disagreements had occasionally required Alex to soften his wording or wait until they were alone, especially whenever Dominic thought someone might interpret a correction as him losing face.

Giovanni didn’t seem to care.

If Alex had the better answer, they used it. If Giovanni did, Alex extended him the same courtesy.

For two men whose companies had spent years competing against each other, they were remarkably good at being on the same side.

Perhaps that was why they had already accomplished so much by the time the afternoon began winding down.

Outstanding payments inherited during the transition were being processed, while suppliers with validated invoices received updated payment schedules. Meanwhile, current obligations continued to be released as they became due.

For all the concern surrounding the transition, the actual work of keeping the project alive was becoming remarkably ordinary.

Joe spent most of that time near the service vehicle, keeping his hands busy cleaning the car while his ears remained open for the latest gossip.

And, as drivers tended to discover whenever everyone conveniently forgot they were within earshot, he ended up hearing quite a lot.

Near the break room, two engineers were talking.

"Those two really came to work."

The other laughed.

"I thought they’d hold a press conference."

"No. They’re making sure payroll goes out on Friday."

A construction worker nearby grinned.

"My overtime wasn’t canceled."

His supervisor immediately pointed at him.

"Because it’s justified under the recovery schedule. Don’t get too excited."

"Got it, boss."

Joe hid a laugh.

Later, near the vehicle yard, another driver was complaining about maintenance downtime until his supervisor pointed toward the truck.

"Look at those tires. The tread’s nearly gone, and you could smell the brakes overheating before you even parked. You really want to drive that thing?"

The driver stared at his truck for a moment.

"...No."

"Then stop complaining."

Elsewhere around the site, the conversations were just as ordinary. People talked about purchase orders or wondered when the next batch of apprentices would arrive.

Yet underneath all that everyday complaining and gossip was something far more important.

Nobody had lost a job because of the transition.

Work hadn’t stopped simply because two wealthy families were fighting, and when Friday came around, everyone expected to get paid.

For the people working on the project, that seemed to matter far more than whatever story was currently circulating online.

Joe leaned against the car and looked toward the bridge, where Alexander and Giovanni were still walking beside the Project Manager.

"Their words, not mine."

The media didn’t need Giovanni Mercer to issue a statement.

Everyone else was already doing it for him.

Alexander returned the following week.

Then, somehow, he found himself returning after that.

Officially, they were executive site reviews. There were reports to approve and decisions that still required someone higher up the chain.

Unofficially, something resembling a routine had begun forming before either man seemed to notice.

Alexander learned that Giovanni almost always arrived before him.

Giovanni, apparently, had discovered that Alexander had an irritating habit of skipping breakfast whenever his morning schedule became too crowded.

Neither commented on what they had noticed about the other.

At least, not immediately.

On Alexander’s second unannounced visit, he entered the temporary site office and found Giovanni already sitting at the table, reading through a document.

Alex had barely stepped inside when a wrapped sandwich slid across the table toward him.

He stopped.

His gaze dropped to the sandwich, then slowly lifted to Giovanni.

"You ordered extra?"

"Yes."

"How did you know I was coming?"

"I didn’t."

Alex remained standing.

"Then why is there an extra sandwich?"

Giovanni turned a page.

"I was hungry."

Alex looked pointedly at the empty wrapper beside his elbow.

"You already ate."

That finally made Giovanni look up.

"Are you going to eat the sandwich or not?"

Alex pulled out the chair across from him.

"Depends. What’s in it?"

"No peanuts."

That shut him up.

His hand, already reaching for the wrapper, paused for the briefest moment.

Giovanni had returned to his document as though he hadn’t just casually remembered something Alex usually had to mention whenever anyone ordered food for him.

There was no reason to read anything more into a sandwich.

Alex unwrapped it and took a bite.

For the next several minutes, the temporary office settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional page turn or the machinery rumbling somewhere outside.

Eventually, Alex finished eating.

He folded the wrapper neatly and slipped it into his pocket.

"Thanks."

"Hm."

That was apparently all he was getting.

Fine.

Alex reached for the project report sitting between them.

"You’re still here next Thursday?"

"Yes."

"I’ll come around ten."

Giovanni’s eyes remained on the document.

"Eat breakfast."

Alex paused.

"I usually do."

A page turned.

"No, you don’t."

Alex stared at him.

Giovanni continued reading.

There was absolutely no point in asking how he knew.

So Alex didn’t.

"Fine. Ten o’clock."

This time, Giovanni gave a small nod.

Alex opened the report and tried to concentrate on the numbers in front of him.

It worked for approximately ten seconds.

Then his eyes wandered back toward the empty sandwich wrapper beside Giovanni.

It was ridiculous, really.

Just a sandwich.

Except Alexander Vance had apparently spent years believing he needed to ask for care first.

It was slightly inconvenient to discover otherwise over something as stupid as breakfast.