A/N: Shorter chapter. Starting to think this is going to be longer than three parts... okay, so this is going to be longer than three parts. Hope that isn't too upsetting for anyone.
Claire manages to almost forget her encounter with the Raptor trainer -mentally chastising herself almost immediately the morning after the incident- until he shows up outside her office two weeks later.
"Ms. Dearing," he drawls, startling her from a massive report for the new Tyrannosaurus exhibit. They want to run a tram through it, allow the guests to watch Lucy (that's what the park employees and animal keepers call her) eat and hunt. It leaves a sticky, faintly sick feeling inside her mouth, like rotten fruit stuck to her tongue. Every year park goers seem interested in more of one thing, and one thing only; violence.
Owen is leaning against the door frame, fingers hooked casually into the belt loops of his dirt stained pants, looking completely edible and masculine and out of place. Looking at him makes her rather warm under the collar. She can see Zara leering and smiling through the glass of her office from the corner of her eye and she purses her lips.
"Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Grady?"
He smiles like she's just suggested something inappropriate that he'd really like to take her up on, and steps inside her office. He's fluid and confident, like a predatory feline.
No, like a Raptor.
"I hear you're the lady to see about trying to get additional funding."
"I suppose that depends what this funding is for," she replies. "As you know, I am only loosely involved with the Raptor program." That's something of an exaggeration; she knows next to nothing about it. Not that he needs to know that.
"Ah, but I'm not here about the Raptor program, I'm here about the Stegoceras progam." He reaches out and toys with a white, rounded paperweight on her desk. When he sets it back down there is a smear of dirt on it and she frowns.
"I wasn't aware that you were involved with that program." She wants to reach out and clean the brown smudge but she has a sense that he knows what she's thinking, that he's testing her, so she clasps her hands together across her otherwise pristine desk.
"Well, I'm not, not technically, but Simon had me look into some things last time he was here-"
"Ah, I might have guessed," she interrupts and rises from her chair. "Mr. Masrani has a habit of… how to put this precisely -a habit of over-reaching."
Owen frowns a little. "What do you mean?"
Claire sighs and resists the urge to press her fingers to her temples and rub, a migraine brewing in the back of her head like a storm just off the coast. "I mean that he sometimes forgets how a business actually runs, or whose job is what, or how much things actually cost. It serves him well sometimes, but a large portion of my job is taking his visions and dreams and forging them in a manner that makes them more realistic "
"You haven't heard my proposition yet," Owen counters, wary now but still smiling, still casually at ease. So at ease, in fact, that it makes her uneasy.
She's used to people darting out of her way in the halls, used to people avoiding speaking to her unless it's entirely necessary, used to people falling all over themselves to tell her what she wants to hear and avoid irritating her. She's used to being intimidating, and she doesn't think Owen Grady is intimidated by anyone. It's both annoying… and annoyingly attractive. It confuses her and she hates being confused, almost as much as she hates being out of control.
"Very well, what is this proposition that has nothing to do with the job you were actually hired to do?" her tone is clipped, dismissive, and she almost feels bad for it, but she can't help it, all her defenses are up now in a knee-jerk effort to regain control of the muddled traction of her thoughts.
Owen's brows draw together and he says, "They are understaffed, the animals have out grown their enclosure, and there are too many of them now so it's becoming difficult to manage and care for them."
"Mr. Grady, you are aware that the Stegoceras are one of our least popular assets, yes?"
Owen glares. "You are aware, Ms. Dearing, that you're talking about living creatures, yes?"
True irritation flashes. "Clark Jennings, the head of that division, has mentioned previously that a reduction of the attraction size may be necessary, which we will probably implement sometime later this year."
"You mean you're going to kill them," he snaps.
Claire walks toward him, heels clicking sharply on the tile of her office floor, and wonders what, precisely, he thinks her job is. Does he, like so many before him, assume she's just another pretty face that will roll over and cater to whatever he wants? He is clearly the sort of man who has been disenchanted with authority and management before, likely from years of having some Navy officer screaming in his face, but she has little tolerance for it.
"It's something that I considered, yes, but –not that it is truly any of your business- they will be released into the jungles outside of the park."
"Simon thinks that if we were to expand the exhibit-"
"Do you know what people come here to see, Mr. Grady?"
He half sneers at her, eyes alight.
"They come to see teeth, and claws, and blood. They want bigger and bader and meaner. Every time we open a new exhibit park attendance nearly doubles, and if people get to watch something die, it even triples. I don't have to like it and neither do you, but it's the truth."
"Why do you go visit the petting zoo, Claire?" he asks and the question is so abrupt and unexpected, she flounders for a moment.
"W-what do you mean?"
He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. She glances outside her office windows and see's that several people in the adjoining rooms are looking at them. She flushes and takes a step back, trying not to feel like she's giving ground in a battle of wits.
"I mean, why is that you go there in the middle of the night to pet baby triceratops," he repeats loudly and she shushes him fiercely.
"I don't know what that has to do with anything-"
"I think it has to do with everything, Claire," he says more quietly.
She glares at him, furious that he's managed to get under her skin in such a short amount of time. Furious that's she's so far been entirely unable to stop him. He matches her gaze for a long moment before his shoulders visibly relax, and that easy, confident smirk works it's way back onto his face.
"You don't have to listen to what I have to say, I don't blame you, but I think you should visit the Stegoceras sometime, maybe even come down to the Raptor enclosure."
"Why would I need to visit the Raptor enclosure?"
He smiles at her, moving backwards out the door. "Partially because I think it would be good for you, and partially because I'm trying to impress you." He winks, which makes her bristle with embarrassment. "Have a good day, Ms. Dearing."
He's down the hall before she can formulate a response. Her assistant rushes in the moment the elevator doors close.
"You're not sleeping with him are you?" she demands without hesitation.
Claire huffs for a moment with indignation and residual exasperation before saying, "No, I am definitely not sleeping with that infuriating asshole."
Her assistant smiles like a cat who's just been handed a large bowl of cream. "Good."
"Claire, I need a favor," Karen says over the phone, sounding tired and more than a little downtrodden.
Claire sets down the coffee she'd been about to sip as a feeling of dread leaks into her empty stomach. In their entire lives, Claire can't remember her older sister having ever asked her for a favor. Ever.
It's early, the sun a prickling idea on the horizon, and she's still in her nightgown. She tugs her bathrobe closer, suddenly chilled.
"I-Is everything alright?"
"I need, well, I was hoping that- God, this is going to sound stupid." Karen sounds on the brink of tears, her voice trembling and irregular. Claire swallows thickly.
"Better just to say it I guess," Karen inhales sharply. "Can the boys come visit you? Maybe stay out there for a bit?"
Whatever Claire is been expecting, it isn't this. She's momentarily at a loss for words.
"Right it's a stupid idea. I'm sorry I asked-" Karen is rushing on, bordering on frantic.
"Of course," Claire finds herself saying without really consciously deciding to speak. "Of course they can come visit."
There is a long silence, then, "Are you sure, Claire?" Karen can't quite hide the desperate hope in her voice, though Claire can tell she is trying.
She takes a deep breath, silencing the voices in her head suddenly clamoring for her attention, screaming at her what a terrible, terrible, idea this is.
"Y-yeah, I'm sure. I'd love to have them, for as long as you need."
Karen exhales. "Thank you Claire. Just- well, thank you. I'll call tomorrow and we can hash out the details."
"Sounds good," Claire says and they hang up. She should have asked what was happening, what had rattled her usually infallible sister. But she didn't, partially because that's a gap they haven't bridged since they were children and partially because she's pretty sure she already knows the reason.
Her heart aches and she drinks her coffee as she tries to convince herself that taking care of two teenage boys will be easy. She runs a park filled with prehistoric monsters, how hard can two pubescent boys be?
Three days later she's on a video call with Simon.
"How are the T-Rex modifications coming along?" he asks. He is wearing casual, loose linen clothing in his office which happens to looks like a high-end spa. It makes Claire's stomach tighten with jealousy.
"Things are going well. Construction is underway and I believe we will stay under budget."
Simon nods and sips his tea, relaxed, composed, unhurried. Claire's back and feet ache and she hasn't eaten since that morning because she'd been bombarded by one phone call after another.
"I wanted to ask you something, Ms. Dearing."
"Of course, sir," she says politely.
"Where do you see yourself in the future?"
There's a stab of anxiety; it's a pretty loaded question coming from her boss. "Well, I see myself helping you to maintain the greatest theme park in the world, sir."
He smiles and it's a tad indulgent. "That's lovely of course, but where do you see yourself. In your personal life. I was sorry to hear that your engagement was called off."
Claire let a breath out through her hadn't thought Simon even knew of her engagement; it hadn't lasted long enough to make a formal announcment. "I-I suppose I hadn't really thought of it, sir. I love my job and I haven't well, met anyone that seems to share my passions or goals." She's mostly talking out of her ass at this point; Claire has no real idea what she's looking for in men, which probably explains why all her relationships have floundered.
"You're a smart, driven, ambitious woman, Ms. Dearing. I understand the pressure you must be under, but I'm concerned that you do not make enough time for yourself, that you're too deeply imbedded in this company to distance yourself from it. To see the broader picture."
Again, that sense of anxiety. Was he going to fire her for working too hard? It certainly seemed like something Simon might do.
"Sir, if you feel my performance has been less than adequate-"
"I'm just concerned you are going to push yourself too far and snap. I need you, Ms. Dearing, and you are of no use to me overburdened or worked into an early grave."
Like your mother, a voice whispers and she swallows before twisting a smile onto her face.
"Well sir, now that you mention it, my two nephews are coming for an extended stay."
Simon's face lit with surprise. "That's wonderful news! I think it could be very good for you, Ms. Dearing. Children are wonderful, my own are the light of my life."
Claire resists the urge to roll her eyes. "I haven't seen my nephews in a few years," more like seven, "and I'm excited to spend time with them."
In truth she is terrified and had been seconds away from taking back her offer when Karen had called her back to work out the details of their travel. Only the naked relief in her sister's voice had held her at bay. The boys would be arriving in two days and would be staying... well, that part had been glossed over. They were on their summer break from school and Claire has the sneaking, and horrifying, suspicion they might spend the entirety of it with her.
"Wonderful, be sure to take a few days off of course, give them the grand tour and please, for the love of God, relax. I promise it won't kill you."
She offers a wan smile. "Of course, sir."
"I will speak to you tomorrow during the board meeting," Simon says and sips his tea.
"Of course, sir, have a good evening."
"Remember what I said, Ms. Dearing. Relax."
Claire sits quietly at her desk for a moment as the screen goes blank. It's late, only a few lights on in the office around her. She deflates into herself.
She'd meant to bring up with the Stegoceras, to discuss their options. Her discussion with Owen had made her do some... thinking. Forced her to be a little introspective, not that she appreciated it at all, but the feeling their discussion had left behind was hard to ignore. There's something about the park that she's felt for sometime has being lost, a level of integrity and balance. Something beyond numbers on a screen. Something Owen Grady seems to represent.
"Fuck," she mutters to the paper weight that still bears a smear of dirt. "What am I doing?"