Page 11 of Tangled Control

“No issue?” Dad straightens in his seat and his voice increases in volume. “This isn’t a playground! This is your future! How do you expect to be respected by your colleagues and senior staff when you’re dipping your fucking dick in every company ink pot!”

I would have laughed at his choice of words if I weren’t so angry. And possibly embarrassed.

“If you gave me more responsibility and interesting work, then I wouldn’t have the time or the need to fill my day with stupid girls,” I bite back.

“And what about Alexandra?”

“What about her?”

“When you finally settle with her, do you think she’ll appreciate you going to work every day in an office where you’ve been sleeping with half the female employees?”

My body goes rigid. “Well, again, if you gave me a better job, I wouldn’t offer any woman another glance,” I seethe. “It’s all in your power, Dad.”

“Bullshit! You may be my son, but regardless, I’m not ready to give you responsibility or control unless you prove you’re capable. Spending half your day chasing women isn’t the way to prove yourself to me!”

“Well, for your information, I may flirt with them, but I don’t dip mydickin theirink pots. I’m not that stupid!”

The admission doesn’t calm him – he probably doesn’t believe me.

“You will get no more responsibility until you can show me you’re a worthy leader, a leader who doesn’t have a trail of unsavoury rumours following him.”

With a look of disgust, he dismisses me, and childishly, I slam the door on my way out.

Nine

Catriona

What’s wrong with the women in this office? Linda, the twenty-year-old intern who is joining Rian and me at the Alton meeting, has matched her bright red lipstick with her bra that can be seen when she bends a particular way. Which she does a lot while looking at Rian.

The boss himself is in some mood, not a remnant of the teasing man from last night in sight. His jaw ticks above his silky sea-green tie as the talks don’t go the way we’d hoped, despite all the preparations we put in yesterday. Rian has tried to impress the Alton House delegation – not only by wearing a tie – he only wears those when he has client meetings – but also by hosting the discussions in one of the most exclusive conference rooms. Maybe it’s Rian’s privileged background that makes him think dazzle will impress. Joanna Alton, an old dragon of a woman, is a Dubliner through and through. I wince as she wrinkles her nose while glancing down into her small espresso cup. A properly brewed cup of tea would have more impact on her than plush leather seats and modern art.

“Pardon me for saying so, but it seems to me that upgrading the alarm system to more cameras is nothing but a way to saveyoumoney by having less people on the ground.”

“You’re quite right.”

“Oh.” Joanna’s eyebrows lift. It wasn’t the answer she’d expected from my boss.

Rian sips from his cup. Anyone but me would think he was in total ease. “More digital surveillancewillreduce the need for staff. Less staff will mean less overheads for us.” He nods and folds his hands on the table. “However, those savings will be passed on to you. Yes, the upgrade of the alarm system will cause initial cost, but the annual service fee going forward will be substantially lower.”

His smooth answer doesn’t stop Joanna from firing one accusation after the other – all of which Rian answers with an openness and honesty that turns the conversation.

We reach an agreement.

All thanks to Rian.

His shoulders are square as he stands so tall while shaking Joanna’s hand goodbye at the lifts on our floor. I feel almost privileged to have witnessed his negotiation skills. I want to learn that from him.

As the doors slide closed on the Alton delegation, I glance up at Rian and whisper, “Well done.”

His gaze flicks down on me. The hint of green in his grey eyes is sparkling.

“It didn’t go too bad, now, did it?” he replies, the low timbre of his voice strumming something deep inside of me.

“You need to teach me what you did in there.”

His smile softens, and my heart skips a beat. “All part of business experience.”

“We, um. We should go to the reception at the National Gallery tonight to celebrate,” I add, still holding his gaze.