The director leaned forward on his ornate wooden desk. His teak chair groaned heavily, as if to mimic his heady English accent.

"Hold on, Laura. Let me get this right. You simply hopped on the telephone with the president of South Pharma, indulged in some casual afternoon chin-wagging, and he agreed to give us two million dollars?"

Decades of cutthroat business and ruthless decisions had carved their marks on Henry Spectre's wrinkled face, but they did little to erode his pride. The old gent wore his age well and could even be considered attractive – if cigars and dapper vests were the ruling standard of male beauty.

His sky-blue eyes bore into Laura with a stare that she often found herself subjected to.

It wasn't a bad stare; quite the opposite, in fact.

The director was impressed. He just didn't know why.

Laura smiled sweetly. "Well, technically, it was a video conference, and the chief of finance was also present. They quite liked the virtual contact. And, yes, I pulled in another two million dollars for our e-commerce app."

Henry studied her, his breath steady and stoic. The suspense heaved onto her shoulders with the weight of all the yellowed books in his old office.

When his contemplation had run its course, he settled back in his chair with an exhale, freeing space for her to breathe again.

"Jolly good. Now, Laura, I have an important task that requires the utmost skill and patience. I'm not sure any of these buffoons in the office could handle it. But you, my girl..." He pointed to her. "You are golden."

Laura pulled her lips into an expectant grin. After swooping into Spectre Corp at 24 and closing a million-dollar deal in her first month, her name was carved into the director's good books and she began counting the days to when he would write her an actual challenge.

Two years and twenty million dollars. She was still counting.

Before she could ask for details, the door behind Laura flew open. She turned to regard the intruder.

A brunette man about her age strode in, his smug face and glinting eyes a cocktail of arrogance and mischief. Hugging his solid figure was a blue knit sweater and casual brown pants.

A clown in the company of shirts and ties.

"Ah, just in time," Henry piped up. "Laura, I would like you to meet my son, Charles."

She rose and thrust her hand out in greeting, eyeing the man's striking resemblance to Henry. Standing about a head taller than her, his face was cut with the same sharp lines as his father's, but without the creases of stress and time.

Those lines now curved into a sardonic grin at her outstretched palm, as if he found her normal gesture outrageously amusing.

"Please, don't be so formal. Call me Charlie." His voice was laced with the same refined English accent that, ironically, seemed to turn up its nose at the idea of being casual.

Henry beckoned them to sit. "Son, this is Laura. She is an immense asset to this company. She secured that arduous Sattler Industries agreement last year and it's the only reason we can now distribute our pharmaceuticals in the south."

"Remarkable," Charlie drawled, his tone dripping with imperious sarcasm.

"Laura." Henry cast his eyes upon his trusted soldier. "Charles is joining your team. You will train him."

"What?" Laura launched from her seat. "Sir, with all due respect, I am swamped. I don't have the capacity!"

He shrugged. "Perhaps, then, you are not as good at managing your time as I believed."

Charlie's snicker fell on deaf ears as her mind scrambled for a more solid weapon to bat this glorified babysitting job away.

"Mr. Spectre, we have prospective clients flying in next week. If I take this on, I will not be able to dedicate my time to them."

"And if you refuse, I shall have to assume you are not suitable for a role in management," he returned, his eyebrows hitching pointedly.

Laura slumped, defeated by the unmistakable stench of nepotism. She knew that once Spectre Junior learned to walk, Daddy Dearest would immediately vault him onto the next rung of the ladder.

The one that would have been hers.

But when you've slogged your youth away for a golden egg like Spectre Corp, an empty promise was better than no promise at all.

"I understand, Mr. Spectre. I will take care of it." Laura nodded soberly and marched out of the office.

She needed a drink. But seeing as it was just nine in the morning, tea was her only substitute – a poor one, but a substitute nonetheless. She stormed into the pantry and put on the kettle, watching the water bubble as fiercely as her rage.

"Well, I'd say that went rather smoothly."

Laura bristled at the offending voice that had invaded her silence. She shot a glare of disdain at Charlie, who leaned against the door, irritatingly casual and cocksure.

"Spectacularly," she spat.

A sly grin danced on his face. "Though, I wonder what my father would think if he knew that his trusted business development manager was out feeding her alcoholism last night, instead of attending our partner's D&D."

Laura stiffened. His cobalt eyes returned her glare.

Her brain kicked awake. Mr. Seafoam Eyes' mesmerising gaze winked at her from the hazy recess of her memory, his furtive voice hooking her heart in a seductive whisper.

The kettle erupted into a boil and broke the alcoholic mirage.

"It doesn't matter. I don't need to stuff myself into some business function to get the client," she seethed, spouting the scathing liquid into her cup. The earl grey leaves jumped from the heat. 

"It would matter to Henry Spectre."

Laura clenched her jaw as she dumped in a dollop of milk and battered the tea with her spoon. "And what about you? What would your dear father think if he found out you were trying to drag his right-hand woman home?"

He rolled his eyes. "Are you trying to counter-blackmail me?"

"That depends. What do you want?"

Charlie shrugged, the gesture maddeningly similar to his old man's cavalier disregard of Laura's career.

"A simple request. I don't need any 'training', so you can stash your flash cards. Just give me what you're working with and we can both come out looking good. Stay out of my hair, and I'll stay out of yours."

This bastard was threatening her. But if there was anything more insulting than babysitting the director's demon spawn, it was the fact that he thought she had all the time in the world to do so.

Laura shoved past him with a scowl.

"My pleasure."

♥