know.”
She looked up at him, her face tight, the brown eyes narrowed. “Forget what I said. What I mean is, I’ve seen you before.”
“How could I forget?” He smiled at her, coming a little closer to her seat, and taking her hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Miss...”
Her hand trembled, and as she tilted her face to look at him, a silken lock of her upswept hair fell into her face. He found the sight captivating.
Someone cleared their throat. “I see you’ve met my daughter, Eve.”
He jerked his head around, and saw Franklin there, looking on. Releasing her hand, he studied his mentor, whose face was unreadable. “This is your daughter?”
Franklin nodded in response.
Turning back to her, he met her curious eyes. “Pleased to meet you, again, Miss Franklin. I’m Darius Winstead—an old friend of your father’s.”
In a moment, her expression changed from curiosity to anger. Her lovely brows furrowed, her sweet little painted mouth twisted into a scowl. In an outraged whisper, she said, “You! You’re the old friend?”
Not wanting to rile her any further, he stepped back. “Yes, I guess I am.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if becoming aware of the other people in the room. Blowing out a loud sigh, she folded her arms over her chest and turned toward the center of the table. She was obviously angry about something. But rather than say anything else, and risk a shouting match with her in front of the people he would soon lead, he rounded the table and took a seat in an empty leather chair across from her. She cut her eyes at him, a brief gesture that communicated her desire to either slap him, or let the air out of his tires, or both. He couldn’t tell and he didn’t want to find out.
So, the gorgeous woman from the elevator was the old man’s daughter. He never would have guessed it, having only seen pictures of her as a child scattered around Franklin’s office. What really upset him, though, was the way she reacted when he’d introduced himself. Why was she so annoyed that he called her father a friend?
Franklin stood behind the chair at the head of the table, and called the meeting to order. Soon the old man had called on the board secretary to read aloud the minutes of the last meeting. Darius knew he should probably pay attention to what was being said, but this was the part of business that bored him into a coma-like state. When he looked across the table at a tight-faced Eve, he saw her drumming the eraser end of a sharpened pencil on the tabletop. At least he wasn’t the only person struggling to stay awake.
To keep his eyelids from growing any heavier, he took a moment to look around the room. It was a very modern space, with soft gray walls and matching carpet. One wall was similar to the one in Franklin’s office, all glass, and looked out onto Trade Street. The other three walls were hung with framed magazine and newspaper articles about FTI, as well as a few pieces of colorful abstract art. The table they were sitting around was long and rectangular, made of glossy polished mahogany or some other dark wood. The twenty or so people present were all sitting in chairs the same shade of dark brown leather, with padded armrests. He shifted in his seat. It wasn’t as comfy as the memory foam one upstairs, but the slight discomfort might be just enough to keep him awake.
He heard Franklin call his daughter’s name and ask her to summarize the past month’s financial reports. She stood, tugging at the hem of the sheath dress. An aide walked over and turned on the projector set up in front of the room’s only blank wall. As the aide operated a laptop slide show, Eve pushed the wayward lock of hair away from her face and began to speak. Angling herself away from him and facing more toward her father, she spoke about profits and losses, overhead and the other particulars of the company budget with confidence. Watching her, it was pretty obvious she knew what she was talking about, and was likely damn good at her job. Why was Franklin so sure she wasn’t ready for the position of CEO? From where he sat, she seemed altogether capable and intelligent.
Once the slide show and her presentation came to an end, she sat down again. Impressed with both her body itself and her body of knowledge, Darius kept his eyes on her for the rest of the meeting.
Finally, mercifully, the meeting came to an end. Most of the people in the room filtered out, but Darius remained, along with Franklin and his daughter. The old man, who’d stood as the board members exited, sat down again. Eve remained in her seat, and they both looked in his direction. Taking the hint, he got up and moved down to the seat Mrs. Franklin had been occupying, with the old man between them.
Franklin started. “Eve, I...”
She cut him off. “Please excuse me, Daddy, but I would really like to know what qualifies your so-called ‘old friend’ to run this company. What kind of experience does he have that I don’t?” She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table.
Darius heard the challenge in her voice. “Straight to the point, I see. I like that.”
She pursed her lips. “Then why don’t you answer my question, Mr. Winstead?”
So it’s like that. She was going to get formal with him, condescendingly. That was fine. He liked a little spark of excitement in his life. If she wanted to play the game that way, he had no qualms about laying it all out on the table. He sat back in his chair, laced his fingers in front of him. “Please, call me Darius. As for my qualifications, I hold a bachelor of science in computer science, and an MBA as well as a master’s in information technologies. I interned here at FTI in the nineties, owned my own software company, Winstead Development, in the early two-thousands. I invented the first smartphone operating system, sold it and for the past six years I’ve been enjoying a pretty sweet retirement.” He cocked his head to one side. “Does that answer your question?”
Silence.
Her dark lashes fluttered in time with her rapid blinking, the surprise evident on her face. Her cherry-red lips hung just slightly open.
Franklin looked on without a word, although the slight upturn of his mouth gave away his amusement.
The room grew so quiet, he could hear her breathing. For a moment, he watched the rise and fall of her chest as she leaned close over the tabletop.
“Ms. Franklin? Have I sufficiently satisfied your curiosity?” He flexed his fingers.
Closing her mouth, she swallowed. Making direct eye contact with him, she nodded. “Yes, Mr. Winstead. I’d say you have.” She sat up, and pressed her back against the chair’s tall backrest.
Franklin pulled a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his sport jacket, dabbed at the moisture gathering on his brow. “Good. Now I feel I can leave you two alone to get acquainted.” He stood, retrieved his briefcase from the floor and made his way toward the open door. “You two play nice.” With that, he exited.
Darius looked across the table at his new colleague. She’d let her head fall back against the top of the backrest, her eyes focused on the ceiling tiles above them. She used her feet to swivel the chair a few degrees left, then a few degrees right.
He watched her for a few moments. Something was obviously on her mind, but with the bit of tension still hanging in the air, he didn’t know if he should ask.
But finally curiosity got the better of him. “Do you think we can get along, Ms. Franklin? Can we keep this professional?” Before the last word left his lips, he knew it was going to be mighty
