Chapter 1- Alpha meets Alpha
A wolf pack has a definite social structure and rules of conduct. The pack leaders are the alpha male and female. These two animals are dominant over all the other wolves in the pack.
"My apologies gentlemen, I'm not usually late." All heads whipped around the sudden opening of the door.
Amidst the proposal of new budget campaigns by a skinny kid in a sports jacket, Owen Grady's then sleepy eyes focused on the woman he hasn't seen before.
Dressed in an all-white ensemble, her strong fiery hair trailed just a bit below her shoulders, porcelain span of skin and swan-like neck visible from the blazer and long skirt she's wearing. An air of I-own-this-fucking-room hangs about her as Owen's gaze followed the stranger. "No, you don't sweetheart." He thought in a very cocky manner. He was unaware that he stopped tapping his pen or the slight parting of his mouth while watching her strode across the room.
The echoes of her heels reverberated on the floor tiles of the conference room. Surely, everybody was just transfixed on her as much as him because everyone stayed quiet till she sat at the reserved seat at the far end on his right. No one bothered to make the proper introductions for him. He saw her raised her perfectly groomed eyebrows at the kid whose name he forgot.
"Connor, please, proceed." The red-haired woman said quite pointedly.
Poor Connor who was stunned for a second and all but scrambled for the file of papers in front of him, his pen fell to the floor and he hit his head on the table when he picked it up, clearly fazed by this intriguing woman. Owen felt sorry for the kid.
"At ease Connor. I'm sure she doesn't bite." Owen joked trying to lighten the mood that befell on the room since her arrival.
That seemed to work because every man in the room laughed, everyone except her. Owen noted. Not that he's looking at her again. Connor smiled at him as he pushed his glasses on his nose and continued.
"Furthermore, we acquired 64% of our revenue from last month-"
Connor's prepared speech had dulled when he met the stranger's penetrating scrutiny.
The only woman in a roomful of powerful and influential men in the business. From his seat on his father's chair, she faced him. if she didn't notice Owen from her entrance, she does now. On the other hand, all Owen could think was ''Fucking hell."
She was exquisite.
Her short and straight hair framed her delicate face, he can't see the color of her eyes from the distance but it nailed him completely immobile to the leather seat. A slightly upturned nose, a jaw line that appeared extremely sharp; he would happily cut himself repeatedly while running his fingers along its angle, an adorable cleft and proud chin and lipstick stained lips that Owen imagined ruining with reckless kisses.
She looked away and focused on the bar graphs on Connor's slide, taking notes now and then. Her phone, notepad, and pens placed neatly on her area on the table.
Momentarily agitated by some unknown reason, he cleared his throat, sat straighter and paid attention to the screen in the conference room.
If anyone told him he's gonna be sitting on the Chairman's chair a year from now, he would laugh his ass off then shove his foot right on their mouths. Not that the idea of air-conditioned rooms and spreadsheets don't interest him but he craved the uncertainty and thrill of his parallel universe more. A life without owning mega-million-dollar companies, without expensive cars or luxurious vacations, humongous residences or special treatments. He didn't like being chased around with golden spoons. Hence, he joined the navy, the profession that was close to him by heart. And he didn't regret it for a single bit.
At such a young age, he knew he had a bigger house than his classmates and friends, yet didn't grow up a brat. Mrs. Grady made sure of that. Owen was enrolled in a public school, took the bus every day to school (until he was given a Benz- the family's heirloom- when he turned 16) and during summer vacations he would be hired to any job openings his dad's companies would offer. When he went to college, he applied and became a part-time associate in Grady Corp. His parents always emphasized and taught him the beauty of a simple life and for that, he was eternally grateful.
When he told his dad that he wants to join the navy, Senior Grady was supportive. "I knew you'll take after your mom." He even wore an embarrassing Proud Navy Dad" shirt to the office on many occasions and when he called him during special occasions via video calls. Owen could always count that his father would be there smiling proudly at him whenhe looked back.
Settling in a much simpler and serene life, living in his grandparent's house and farm on the country suited Owen just fine. When he's not serving his country, he would tend to his farm animals and sometimes train dogs for the military. It was bliss.
Until his Dad's lawyer and close friend called him. Having just landed from serving his tour and losing some of his troops, He wasn't ready to hear another bad news. Nevertheless, he gathered his innate and pent-up courage, hopped in his grandfather's old Mercedes and drove an hour to the city.
He loved his old man. Even with business tycoons bowing at his feet, Alan Grady remained grounded and benevolent. So that tumor that ended his life was such a cruel punishment for a man who lived his entire life helping others.
Her mom, may God also bless her soul, a loving woman and notable army lieutenant, succumbed to her injuries from a car crash when he was just 10 years old. Hence, Owen grew up with only his dad who never remarried.
The elder Grady didn't have the guts to tell Owen until his three-month mark. He said he doesn't want his son to see another parent die in front of his eyes. And that was enough to make the grown man cry.
On his deathbed, his hand clasped by his son, he told Owen that being his only heir and family, Owen will inherit the biggest share in all of their group of companies, but he wasn't bound to take over the business if he doesn't want to. He's still free to do whatever he desires and he'll be well provided for.
And Owen just shook his head at him, not letting him finish and trying in vain to keep his tears at bay. Of course, he will take over, his dad doesn't have to imply or even ask. And Senior Grady was silent for a moment but thanked him. Not for Owen's recent agreement to handle the business but thanked him just for being his son.
His only regret in life (he told Owen this) was not being able to see his future grandchildren. Lightly smacking his son's head for this with whatever strength he still has, he said "Get out there and stop fooling around.'' Owen chuckled despite being teary-eyed. "One day you're gonna meet someone and she'll knock you down on your stubborn ass. "
The familiar and prideful smile lingered on his withered lips even after he finally closed his eyes.
"I need a full decent report on this proposal first thing in the morning." The red-headed woman reiterated from her seat, interrupting Owen's trip to memory lane.
"But-"
"Spare me details of your incompetence Mr. Peters, just get it done."
Wow. She is feisty. Owen took a quick glance at Lowery, who had a sneer on his face and slowly nodding at him as if saying "She barely even started."
Connor turned beet red before muttering a "Yes, Miss Dearing."
Owen's eyes bulged for a bit. Apprehension dawning on him. Ah, so this is the infamous Claire Dearing. Owen had an instinct that she might be. He heard enough stories about the company's resident shrew (as what his friend and designated assistant, Lowery Cruthers monickered her) whether be it in the halls, the elevators, between meetings and colleague dinners.
Owen found himself getting more curious as Lowery provided him four-year worth of company tête-à-tête. His dad never told him about her during one of their conversations. "What the hell was that about, Dad." He wanted to say.
He was yet to meet the person behind the whispers and praises of his clients and subordinates, was curious to know who could might as well change the company name from Grady Corporations to Dearing's Fucking Playground if she so desired, considering that she was responsible for the company's high net worth, investors and sales spikes over the past years but most importantly he was anxious to thank the thoughtful person who sent such beautiful sympathy wreaths of his parents" favorite flowers for his dad's funeral.
He heard that she was in France for half a year already, settling business arrangements when he took over the company, two weeks after his father's funeral. And now, here she stood before him, looking all immaculate and stirring all kinds of hell in him that he has yet to discover.
"-However, I have a few suggestions." She stood from her seat with the grace of a queen and trotted towards the largest monitor. Owen found himself staring at her again while she pointed out alternatives and eventual loopholes. She's undoubtedly a woman of style and substance.
Connor nodded with nervous enthusiasm on her every word. Some men joined and voiced out their agreements as well, their earlier jitters dissipating.
"Here boss," Lowery whispered suddenly, leaning sideways to drop a black handkerchief in front of Owen. "You got a little drool over there." he gestured to the side of his mouth and tried to repress his chuckle before turning his attention back to the screen.
Owen scowled loud enough for the room to hear. All heads turned to him. Dearing's eyes penetrating him the most.
"You don't approve Owen?" Connor queried from where he had resumed his seat.
"No. No. I mean everything sounds great, however. Could someone give me this year's and last year's investor relations reports, I only have the ones from-" He trailed off, Lowery handing him his tablet.
"-the first quarter of this year. Before we agree on taking any actions, I need to review that. "Owen concluded.
For starters, he actually knew what he's talking about. Having studied Business Management for the first three years of college before shifting his major to Behavioral Studies then enlisting in the Navy two years after his graduation.
"Claire could help you." Simon Masrani, one of his dad's best friends and board of directors chipped in, angling his swivel chair on Owen.
"Of course, but who's Claire now?" He asked dubiously although he knew perfectly who that was, he just wanted to see if he can get under her skin. His gaze deliberately avoiding her.
Lowery let out a snicker before covering it with a cough. The room fell silent once more, colleagues caught each other's nervous glances. Simon made no effort to answer his godson's question but his eyes were twinkling with delight, his fingers curled around his lips.
"Mr. Grady, I don't think we've met." She declared in that daunting tone of hers, holding her chin up a bit higher and clasping her long fingers together.
Owen finally acknowledged the Aphrodite in the room, standing on the opposite side of the table, across from him. He allowed himself to linger once more on her figure.
"Oh, you're Claire?" He feigned surprise. "Well then, I'm Owen." His hands pointed to himself in an introductory manner.
"I know who you are Mr. Grady." Claire quipped, struggling not to roll her eyes.
"Please, call me Owen. So?" He raised one eyebrow at her, smiling smugly at her at the end of the table.
"So" what Mr. Grady?" the way her sultry voice coiled around his surname was like honey yet, her expressions remained cold and him, surprisingly like it.
"When can you hand me the report?" He leaned back on his chair, pushed his chair away from the table to rest his left ankle on his right knee.
"You can expect it no later than tomorrow afternoon."
"Tomorrow? " He clicked his tongue and slanted his head at her, his eyes challenging. "See, that wouldn't work for me. Miss Dearing. I would appreciate it a wee bit earlier."
Lowery lightly kicked his foot under the table like some sort of warning.
"I'll be sure to give it to you before the day ends then, Mr. Grady," Claire exclaimed in a very polite way, that it seemed fake.
"Call me Owen, sweetheart. Mr. Grady is my granddad." A mild irritation lurking in his voice at her lack of disobedience.
"Okay." Claire hummed Her red, red lips in a tight, horizontal line.
"Great." Crossing his arms in front of him, he pushed on, waiting for her to do what he just asked her.
"Fantastic."
"Outstanding." The corner of his lips twitched with burgeoning interest.
"Is there anything else you would need Mr. Grady?
The committee held their breaths as they watch the first interaction between their top superiors.
They know of Owen from when he used to tag along with his dad in business matters years before he shipped to some war zone for the navy. They're aware of the boy growing up and having both of his parents" strong set of personalities: a master of obstinate-ness and compulsion. Attributes that sometimes drove their former CEO out of his mind and what they heard had kept him alive during his Navy days.
On the other hand, they know of Claire Dearing, the Claire Dearing who finished two majors at Harvard at the same time with honors, Alan Grady's trusted second-in-command, the person primarily accountable for keeping Grady Corporation afloat, the one you won't want to mess around with for it'll probably be the last thing you ever will do. Two people from opposite sides of the spectrum; the ice and the fire, their virtues, and principles sundered by being raised in perfectly different circumstances and environment yet shared one common yet deadly trait that can either be their doom or their new source of entertainment: a penchant need to control. They are two alphas determined to win dominance over the other.
After a moment of overwhelming silence, Owen stood up from his seat, leaning forward, he fisted his hands on the table and all the while still holding Claire's affixed and ambiguous glare. He smirked.
"Meeting adjourned. Thank you, everybody, for your time."
Everyone was eagerly gathering their things and bee-lining for the door.
"Well, while this has been utterly... delightful…." Simon muttered to Owen who was putting all his paperwork in his backpack. "Claire, won't you come here."
Owen didn't look up from his task but did when the toe box of her nude stilettos came into his view.
"I want to you to meet Alan's son… er formally. This is Owen." He stood between the two and patted his left hand on Owen's right shoulder.
Standing a few good inches below him-even with her heels-he can smell the wisp of her vanilla scented lotion. From up close, she looked even more ethereal. Radiant even, Reminding him of such pleasant times.
Like how her hair was the color combination of all the red-orange flowers at his mom's garden where he and his mom used to run around. Or how her eyes reminded him of the thick green foliage of the camping site he and his dad used to go fishing. Tiny specks of golden freckles on her cheeks and nose were visible despite her light makeup. The curvy bow of her lips was sinful and unforgiving.
Owen is certain he will have haunting dreams about those lips.
"There's no need for that Simon but it's nice to meet you. "she trained her eyes on him.
"Pleasure's all mine, Claire." He replied, his calloused hand engulfed her warm dainty ones, grasping it lightly.
"And I would like to offer my late condolences." He noted the softness that passed her features at the mention of his dad's latest passing.
He appreciated it.
"Claire, I want you to bring him in, continue showing him the ropes."
"What? Why can't you do it?" She turned to Simon, bewilderment laced her voice.
"My resignation my dear Claire. In two weeks, I'm off to the world." Simon extolled; his eyes gleamed with excitement at the two of them.
Unlike her, Owen knew this. He knew the agreement between his dad and his godfather. On his hospital bed, His dad summoned Simon Masrani and made the latter promise to file his resignation in the following months to live the pleasure of life before it was too late. They weren't getting any younger, he said. Claire remained silent but nodded and smiled at the kind man.
"I should be going. Hold the door would you Mr. Cruthers." he motioned for Lowery who was talking to someone on the phone and was about to leave the room to achieve a better cellphone reception.
"Owen… and Claire, welcome back." Simon nodded at the two before exiting the conference room, Lowery trailing behind him and letting the door close itself.
And then there were two.
She went back to her seat to retrieve the stacks of folders handed to her all throughout the meeting, all the while typing something on her cell. Owen reached for the remote control so he could switch off the monitors. He doesn't have to do it; he was sure that the maintenance guys always clean up after every meeting. But he suddenly had an inkling to do their job for them. He fumbled with the control for the window blinds for a bit, muttering a curse when the device rang a deep error sound.
"Shit!"
"You need help with that?" He looked up and noticed Claire was already just a few distances away from him, her stance remained cool, calm, and collected.
"Nope. I got it." He pressed another button and the blinds started to go down, slowly shadowing the room from the city view.
"See?" He assured her and carefully dropped the remote on the table.
She rolled her eyes at him and made her way towards the door.
"I look forward to working with you, by the way." He leered at her, and with that Claire halted midway and turned squarely at him, with a look that was meant to scare him, he reckoned.
"Let me get something straight Mr. Grady." She sauntered over to him. He tried not to stare at the alluring way her hips swayed and focused on her eyes instead to distract him from, well, her. It didn't help.
"If you're one of the assholes who will try to belittle me, you better find yourself another hobby because I am not going anywhere. "Her deep forest green eyes boring into his sea greens, both un-blinking and unnerving.
Owen was slightly taken aback by such blatant accusations. Not that he didn't expect it. Being in the business for so long, she must have at least a dozen people every day belittling her just cause she's a woman. But no. Owen was, won't and never will be on that idiot list. She had earned his respect (something he prided himself on not giving away freely) upon reading and studying the company statistics given to him by his staff. Her clean signature marked most of the papers that his dad never got to sign during his hospitalization.
He wanted to defend himself but held his tongue. No matter how wrong she was to think that lowly of him, goading her seemed much more fascinating. Besides, she doesn't look like the type who's easily appeased with sweet talks.
"Such indict Miss Dearing. You don't know me yet." The corners of his mouth quirked up afterward. His interest and wonder with this woman growing rapidly by each passing minute.
"I don't look forward to babysitting you. But unless you know how to properly run this company, I will endure just that. I"m not letting you burn this place to the ground." She surmised in that authoritative and calm voice of hers, her eyes never leaving his.
"Fantastic. How about we discuss this over dinner?" he reiterated smoothly, smiling smugly at her once again.
She snubbed and gave him a slow once over. From his wrinkled basic white shirt, brown cargo shorts and are those… boat shoes?
She raised her eyebrows and scoffed at him "Have a Good day Mr. Grady." She turned to leave and almost bumped with Lowery who flattened himself against the door and immediately looked anywhere but her.
"Good gracious man, what the heck did you do? Don't anger it." Lowery stated once she's out of earshot, leaning on the door open for Owen.
Owen shrugged and quickly asked, "What time's my free schedule tomorrow?" he dug deep into his pockets to retrieve his phone.
"Uhhh. Let's see. You got another meeting tomorrow morning with Verizon but they always talk nonsense after each meeting but I can get you out at... 12:00 to 13:00, then you have to meet new bidders at 14:00 with Zara but her Claire is back so you'll be doing it with her instead." He narrated off from the calendar on his tablet.
"Okay." he nodded before holding his phone near his mouth and adding:
"Find the nearest Tailor shop," Owen spoke, tucking in his sunglasses in the collar of his shirt and walked past Lowery. The automated response muffled as he walked back to his office.
Unbeknownst to him, Lowery remained at the spot, took out his stylus pencil from his breast pocket, accessed the Notes application on his tablet and added another numeral after Claire's name:
Claire Dearing- II
Owen Grady- I
