A/N:
Apologies for the length of time you guys have had to wait, I've been having to take advantage of free time during a busy week plus fend off a bit of depression (I won't bore you with the details nor with a lengthy Author's Note).
Thanks for waiting patiently.
36. Window of Opportunity
Elsa was up and out of bed before her four o'clock alarm had even finished its sonorous, almost shrill tones, she was that excited.
Today was the day that everything could change. All the plans that she and Jack made, all the preparation that their companies had undergone, it was all coming to this. If the day went as it should, the shareholders and the board of directors would sell their stock to the Pole, thus finalising the White Knight acquisition and herald the birth of the new, merged company called Snowfield-Overland.
Jack, however, seemed to be oblivious to the importance of the day as, while his co-CEO-to-be was busy picking out which blouse to go with the business suit – tied between a light blue and ordinary white – he snored his head off. Elsa elected to leave him for a little while, given that he had another nightmare that night, though mercifully managed to return to his slumber after about half an hour of comforting cuddles.
She eventually decided to go with the light blue in honour of the momentous day, and to reflect the colours of their new logo, and upon retrieving the jacket and knee-length pencil skirt with nude tights, she slid the entire garment into a conveniently hung clothing bag, and with a wide smile, carefully tiptoed to the door and exited her bedroom. Before anything else, shower included, she needed a wake-up coffee so naturally the first stop was the kitchen.
She was, however, surprised to see a bright and wide-awake Anna nursing a steaming mug of hot chocolate, dressed in her ridiculously fluffy pink dressing gown and staring at what looked to be an email on her laptop on the breakfast bar, the soft dim lights above casting her younger sister in a sort of noir, thirties nightclub glow. Elsa wondered if she had woken up in a parallel universe, for Jack to still be asleep and her younger sister to be upright and alert at this ungodly hour seemed one hell of a role reversal.
"Can't sleep?" Elsa's voice broke the early morning silence, startling her sister a little as she was jerked out of the email-related reverie. Anna blinked a few times as she whirled her head towards her elder sister, and her face was blank as though those two words were spoken in a language she did not know.
"Buh?" was her only answer. Elsa chuckled to herself as she walked over to one of the dining chairs and rested the suit over the back, taking care not to crease anything. Today had to be perfect.
"You're not supposed to be awake for another four hours or so," Elsa clarified with a smirk, as she delicately readjusted the skirt, "therefore, I came to the logical conclusion that you can't sleep."
Anna rolled her eyes and took a sip of her delicious hot chocolate, returning her gaze to the emails.
"Oh look, my sister is a Vulcan. What a surprise." she said, her tone drier than a desert and possessed of more sarcasm than the entirety of the United Kingdom. Elsa lightly pushed her as she made her way to the coffee dispenser behind the snarky woman.
"So, what's got my sister up so early?" she asked as she fiddled with the mocha pod.
"I dunno, I had a rough night so I got up to make a drink, and for the hell of it decided to check my emails."
"Anything interesting?"
"You could say that." Anna smirked, turning to face Elsa's back as she re-filled the water container and slid it into the back of the machine, slotted a mug under the nozzle and pressed the button, then turned to face her younger sister with an expectant expression.
"Come on, don't keep me in suspense."
"Oh…just a little message from a company called Disney!" Anna squealed, her face breaking into a beam that could illuminate the city, her arms held vertically in front of her and wiggling with barely restrained delight. Elsa's eyes grew wider than humanly possible, and with a dropped jaw she gasped and rushed forward to embrace her.
"Oh my God, that's wonderful!"
"I know, right?" Anna said enthusiastically once Elsa had deigned to release her from the tight, sisterly hug, "I mean, I didn't hear anything from them for a while and assumed that they'd found something else, but ta-da! They want me to visit their studios to discuss making it into a movie!"
Elsa practically bounced on her feet, imitating Anna's arm-gestures with excited abandon. It's not even four thirty and the day has already started off well.
"When?! When do they want you to travel?"
"Third of January! I know, I know, short notice…but…oh my God-"
It must have been due to being able to actually vocalise the news to someone, but the realisation that her dream was finally coming true, that everything she had worked towards was coming to fruition dropped down on Anna's head like a tonne of bricks.
"-I'm actually going to make a movie…holy shit, oh fuck…this is happening! This is really happening!"
Anna pressed a hand to her heart to try and calm the furious beating in her ribcage, her face blank with the dawning realisation. She even started to hyperventilate with the latent shock, so Elsa gripped her little sister's upper arms and vigorously rubbed to keep her on the mortal plane.
"You have no idea-" she began, but couldn't resist wrapping her arms around her once more.
"-of how proud I am of you right now."
Anna's arms snaked around Elsa's back and squeezed in response, and the elder sister could feel the light jerking that could only be associated with joyful sobs.
"Thanks, 'sis. Thanks for all your encouragement. Thank you for being my sister. God, it's all so surreal…"
They held each other in a loving, sisterly embrace for some time, both basking in the warm feelings that came with familial pride in a sibling's achievements and the knowledge that, for most people, their dreams are not realised but in the case of Anna Snowfield, her life's goal was in sight.
"Hey wait," she pulled away and regarded Elsa with a mildly puzzled expression, "isn't today that our company merges with Jack's?"
Elsa's eyebrows rose, she had forgotten the entire point of her waking up so bright and early with the enthusiastic glee at her sister's news.
"Yes, it is, actually. We're going to be signing the unifying contract today."
Anna's eyes narrowed as she glanced between her elder sister and the general direction of her bedroom.
"So where's Jack, shouldn't he be up?" she asked, prompting a light shrug.
"He had a rough night, so I let him sleep in a little."
Anna's eyes took on an impish look, and a playful smirk crossed her dainty lips. Elsa's jaw jutted out in suspicion as she watched a slowly dawning expression of mischief creep across her younger sister's face. She had seen that look before, worn by someone else.
"What are you planning…" she groaned, and though Anna tried to hide the cheeky expression under a sweet smile of innocence as she slid off the stool, fished her phone from her dressing gown, and made her way towards the bedrooms.
"Nothing…"
Elsa didn't believe her for a second, so once the suspect was out of sight she followed her sister's path, the silence of her movement worthy of a ninja, and once she rounded the corner she caught a glimpse of Anna's left foot before it disappeared into Elsa's bedroom.
There was silence at first, total quiet disturbed only by muffled snickering, but after what seemed like an eternity…it happened.
First, at what seemed to be the highest volume setting known to phone-kind – "IT'S PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME! PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME! PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME!"
The terrified yelp of a rudely awoken Jack,
And the heavy thud that could only mean that he had fallen off the bed in fright.
It's the second time that the young doctor has been asked to visit Pritchard Black's apartment, and after the first time in which he examined and diagnosed a broken nose, he was left with a bad taste in the mouth and an internal refusal to ever set foot inside the conceited, deluded man's abode again.
The problem was, in the doctor's mind, that he is an idealist. He believed firmly that everyone deserves medical treatment, no matter if they are the epitome of moral perfection or not. Therefore, his personal code dictated that when Pritchard Black called him about something very important, that he needed to see him as soon as possible, the doctor felt the obligation to comply.
So, at eleven o'clock in the morning of New Year's Eve, he found himself knocking on the door to Pritchard's apartment, responding to the 'call for help', split between dread and curiosity.
On the phone, the Black heir had sounded subdued, monotone, and almost emotionless. There was none of the arrogance, none of the contemptuous tones that he had encountered several times before, and this had puzzled the doctor to the point that the need to know precisely why Pritchard sounded so different had exceeded his medical obligation.
He waited for a few minutes, hearing nothing on the other side of the door, so he decided to call through the wood.
"Mr Black? It's Dr Henrik. Can you open the door, please?"
Silence greeted him once more, getting to the point that he wondered whether the phone call was all a big prank, that Pritchard was just getting his kicks by making him dance to his beat.
Real funny, Black, making me come here on my day off.
He turned around and was just about to leave when he heard three different clicks and slides, and he revolved back to his original position when the door finally opened the smallest of margins, and he could just about see a golden eye, a patch of dishevelled black hair and ghostly white skin.
"Mr Black? You called me not long ago?"
The eye blinked twice.
"Have you kept your visit a secret?" came that voice, the monotone voice that intrigued him so much.
"Yes, is there a problem with that?"
"No."
The eye disappeared, but the door was not closed. Henrik took that to mean he was allowed entry but the 'patient' would not open the door for him, which did not surprise him in the least. Pritchard was not known for manners or politeness.
Pushing the door aside, the stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit his nose like a heavyweight boxer, and he coughed several times with the impact to his throat. The apartment was dark save for the few dim lamps dotted around the expensive looking living room, every single ounce of daylight kept away by heavy black curtains. His eyes traced around the room, and a feeling of distinct concern sat in his stomach as he saw the mess. Broken glass littered the floor, and sheets of paper were cast everywhere as if a hurricane had just stopped by to say 'hi'.
"Mr Black, this is not healthy, and I can tell you that without even looking at you."
His slightly sarcastic statement was answered with yet more silence, so Henrik looked around the living room once more to try and find his patient, and find him he did. Pritchard was slumped in one of the vintage leather armchairs facing his fire, staring mindlessly into the dancing flames, looking like hell. Henrik strode over to where his patient was sat, and began with the usual checks: his heart rate, responsiveness to light stimuli, even the movement of his eyes – though Pritchard did not bother looking away from the fire. The one thing that bemused him was that those golden eyes were void of all emotion, as though they were dead inside.
"Well, your vital signs check out so, despite the cigarettes and the alcohol, you seem fit and healthy. What seems to be the problem, Mr Black?"
"Everything is…different…" was the unhelpfully cryptic reply.
"Oh, in what way?" Henrik pushed, taking the chair nearest Pritchard and focusing his gaze upon the vacant man.
"Since I returned…from Black Towers, my disowning and firing…everything has been different. The air smells…poisonous. Food…tastes stale. The walls of my…apartment are…different. Skewed. Not right, and I keep hearing-"
He paused, frowning as though he was thinking of what to say, as though his train of thought had been derailed. Then, in Henrik's opinion, the strangest thing happened. Pritchard's face brightened as he shifted his vacant gaze over to the doctor and a smile crept across his thin lips. It wasn't malevolent, or malicious, but warm.
An actual smile.
"How was your Christmas, doctor?"
Henrik was totally bewildered by the question. Since when did Pritchard Black, arrogant and self-obsessed ex-heir care about anyone else?
"Erm, it was…great actually. Mr Black, what's wrong? You seem…odd today."
The young man frowned, his eyes looking past the doctor as though there was something behind him. Henrik twisted his head backwards, but there was nothing there. A puzzled expression slipped the young doctor's features, the clues seeming to fall into place.
"What were we talking about?"
"You were going to say something about hearing…?"
Pritchard scowled, and shot to his feet. He towered over the doctor who was still sat on the chair, and leaned over him in an effort to appear dominant. Just like the last time he tried to assert superiority, Henrik remained unmoved.
"I am not hearing things!" he spat. Henrik slowly shook his head.
"I didn't say you were, Mr Black, I'm just-"
"You're with them, aren't you?! You're here on behalf of my ex-family, trying to make me think I'm going insane so they have a reason to disown me! To make it easier for them!"
Henrik leaned back into the chair and kept his face, and his voice, as calm and as passive as possible.
"Mr Black, I'm here because you called me. I'm not here to make you think anything you don't want to, I'm just here as your doctor. However, as a medical professional I must advise you to seek help immediately; this state you're living in, this belief that you're being victimized is unhealthy, and I would strongly suggest you accompany me so we can get to the-"
Pritchard held up a hand and turned his head to the left, as though listening to something in an earpiece. That was all Henrik needed to see. He had to get Pritchard some help.
"Mr Black, I believe you should come with me, so we can-"
He checked himself, knowing that he needed to encourage Pritchard to leave the apartment, not stay inside and remain distrustful of the outside world, which meant that he had to…play along.
"-prove your family wrong."
Pritchard's head whirled back to the doctor with a wide-eyed expression, and the smallest hint of a smile crept across his lips.
"Excellent idea, doctor! If you'll wait here, I'll go to my bedroom and get my clothes!"
And with that, he whirled around and strode to the other end of the living room, taking a left at the final doorway. Henrik stared after him for a moment, frowning as he pulled out a notepad and pencil from his inner coat pocket, and promptly scrawled something intelligible only to him.
Patient seems to be suffering from hallucinations, occurring in sight, sound, smell and taste. Loses train of thought, suspected personality change. Recommend
Henrik jerked upright with a worried expression as the sound of glass breaking from another room of the apartment rushed to his ears, the characteristic tinkling sending a jolt of unease through his stomach.
"Mr Black, are you alright?"
Silence greeted him once more save for the crackling of the fire to his left, and despite the cosy warmth of the dancing flames caressing his skin, the entire apartment seemed to feel a whole lot colder. Whether that was due to the actual temperature of the room, or how the hairs on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end, he wasn't sure.
He rose from the chair and followed Pritchard's path towards the furthest door in the apartment, taking care to avoid the few shards of broken glass that had obviously been flung by a rage-induced impact.
There was a small voice in the back of Henrik's mind that had been pleading for him to leave since he walked through the front door, to abandon Pritchard to his strange behaviour, but the idealistic belief in healing the sick without judgement or preconception had overwhelmed that voice, telling him to keep walking.
If he knew what was going to happen a few minutes from now, he would have turned tail and ran as far away as he could.
He reached the doorway that Pritchard disappeared through and called once more, hearing nothing in return but the increasingly rapid thum-thum of his own heart and the tense breaths escaping from his mouth. He decided to keep going, to find Pritchard and maybe help him from this unhealthy situation he was in.
It was when he rounded the doorway and walked a few metres into the room that he was struck with exactly how unstable the young man was. The bedroom was old-fashioned, designed with the Victorian era in mind, with a huge mahogany four-poster bed in the middle of the opposite wall. The floor was dark, natural wood with Persian-style rugs dotted here and there, and the cabinets were a matching mahogany. What struck Henrik right in the gut and turned the unease into a furious anxiety was not the design of the bedroom itself, but the hundreds of pictures that were dotted around the ceiling, the walls, even around the mirror next to the mahogany wardrobe.
They were all of a young, attractive girl with a pearly smile, blonde hair in a French braid that was draped over her left shoulder, in various situations. Some were high-school photographs, others were college photographs, and a multitude of them were secret camera shots of her going about her day-to-day life.
The ones that really sent a chill down the doctor's spine had the young girl with another man, a slender yet masculine body in a black military jacket…the man's face either having been scratched off or replaced with a picture of Pritchard's.
In the corner of his eye, he became aware of the appearance of a figure and as he turned, he noticed Pritchard standing in the doorway to the en-suite bathroom, his arms held aggressively away from his sides, his head slightly dipped and a look of pure hate in his eyes. Henrik found he was unable to tear his gaze away from the ex-heir as, with a shaking hand he pointed to the photographs on the ceiling.
"I know of this woman…she's-"
He didn't finish his sentence, as Pritchard closed the distance between them in a few strides, gripped Henrik's jaw with his left hand and the back of his head with his right, and with a firm twist that sharply pulled the world from right to left…
…his neck snapped.
"Are you…dancing?"
Elsa and Jack had agreed that morning – or rather, he made it perfectly clear that he would not miss today for the world – that he would be joining her at work. Elsa was undoubtedly pleased…and a little relieved at this, as having to fulfil her role as CEO in addition to temporarily undertaking Jack's responsibilities yesterday had exhausted her.
Today, however, was a taste of things to come. Jack didn't have an office yet so he mainly operated from Elsa's, however he didn't really stay in it for long and chose to walk the corridors and mosey around each floor. She surmised that it must be a Pole thing, always on the move and working on his feet, but the logic that he was 'getting a feel' for the place was undeniable. Snowfield Towers would, of course, be his primary base of operations and he needed to get used to where everything was.
Naturally, Elsa chose to take on the duty of showing him around herself, and along the way she revelled in the idea that this is what it would be from then on. Snowfield and Overland, working together for a brighter future…or so the cliché goes. To say it gave her a warm buzz every time she thought about it was an understatement, and the little bounces of giddiness that would occasionally overcome Jack was a neon sign that he was thinking about it too.
Of course, their favourite parts of the day so far were the constant elevator trips, and sometimes they would intentionally go down to the first floor specifically to ascend to the fortieth. Why? Elevator make-outs, just like the impending session as they made their way to the elevator on the second floor.
"I'm not dancing. I'm strutting." Jack clarified, pretending to appear hoity-toity about it. Whichever it was, Jack's method of walking was decidedly more musical than the basic left-right system of movement.
"Okay," said Elsa, half-incredulous half-intensely amused, "why are you strutting?"
"Ah, now there's a question that I shall answer in two parts. Firstly, though Anna scared the shit out of me when I woke up, today has been awesome. Seriously, I'm amazed at what you've done, and I'm really, really looking forward to this evening."
Elsa blushed a little at his words, and couldn't help the small smile of pride from creeping across her lips.
"Secondly, I've got Stevie Wonder's Superstition in my head, and that's a damn fine song to strut to."
And to illustrate the point, he broke the rhythmic 'walking' by clapping his hands once and spinning on the balls of his feet, like a regular Justin Timberlake, and then resumed the shameless strutting. Elsa burst into giggles and had to cover her mouth to mask the wide smirk, prompting a mildly offended look from her boyfriend.
"What's so funny?"
"Well, if I thought that my boyfriend would be shimmying and dancing through my building, like Star-Lord at the start of Guardians of the Galaxy, I would have reconsidered the merger!" she teased, pausing to press the Call Elevator button on the wall to her right.
Jack instantly stopped, an invisible force yanking his eyebrows into his hair and his jaw to the ground, and then immediately adopted a petulant pout with a jutting of the chin to finish. Folding his arms across his chest, he stood there like a haughty, offended businessman.
"Fine." he mock-snapped, stiffening his posture.
"D'aww, is my wittle Jacky-boy sulking? I'm sowwy…" Elsa teased as she dipped her head and gave Jack the puppy-dog eyes. He took one glance and stiffened his spine once more, trying desperately to hide the smirk. With a 'bing' the elevator doors opened to receive them, and he strode inside.
"Keep it up, no elevator make-outs for you." He shook his head in an attempt to appear immovable.
"Oh, but please…" Elsa teased, slowly sashaying as she passed through the open doors, pressing the button for the fortieth floor as she did. It had gotten to the point where her hands instinctively knew where to press, without needing her sight beforehand.
"Nope."
Elsa pushed home her advantage by stepping less than six inches away from Jack, a coy smile on her lips and a playful glimmer in her eyes. She slid her hands over the sides of his waistcoat and pressed her body against his, and feathered her fingertips over every inch of his waist that they could reach. Stopping when her lips were mere microns away from his, she felt his warm breath dance upon her skin and even felt his heart thump through their clothes.
"Come on…you know you can't resist me…" she murmured huskily.
Light-headedness dominated their minds and a searing heat spread from their chests into every inch of their bodies, the sensations of each other's touch proving to be so acute it was almost unbearable. Jack felt a part of himself begin to rise, and was vaguely aware of how his breathing was rapid and deep to the point that his head was now swimming, the knowledge that in this enclosed space Elsa seemed to be equally turned-on was intoxicating.
"You're right…"
With a reaction born of the speed of lightning itself he unfolded his arms and gripped Elsa's wrists. She gasped in surprise when he held them above her head, and couldn't help but let a quiet moan escape her lips when he turned her around and pressed her against the elevator wall, every inch of their bodies touching like an undeniable magnetic attraction. He held his lips a few millimetres away from hers, vetoing her pleading attempts to try and capture his mouth. She even quietly whimpered with the infernal teasing, which pleased Jack no end.
"…I can't."
And with that, he pressed his lips against hers in a passionate, bruising embrace, matching her movements perfectly as he swallowed every one of her muffled moans, feeling little to no resistance in her arms but a firmer pressure against his crotch as she hungrily ground against him and her tongue engaged in a vicious game of tag with his.
He started to lose interest in keeping her hands pinned to the wall – not that she had been – and released her wrists so his fingers could travel down the side of her chest…slowly, teasingly, feeling every inch of the soft material under his fingertips, so they could revel in the searing heat that radiated from her chest. She loosed an appreciative moan at the tender yet aggressive touch, and while her left hand snaked around the nape of his neck and held him there, her right hand shot down and gripped his butt, holding him closer against her – if that was possible.
Drunk on heat and physical need, the lovers cast aside all thoughts other than needing to feel every inch of each other. His hands slid down to her skirt and pinched the fabric, pulling the skirt higher and higher up her thighs with each passing second. Feeling the urge to really hear her, he released her lips and traced his mouth across her jawline to the back of her left ear, planting the occasional kiss along the way…and then as her breathless exhalations reached his ears, he travelled down to the crook of her neck and sucked hard. She jumped in his hands with the sudden jolt of pleasure as a loud moan bounced around the walls of the elevator, and as the involuntary movement had encompassed her entire body it had forced her pelvis to firmly grind against his straining length, sending a lightning strike of near-orgasmic pleasure rushing from her crotch to meet the jolt in her neck.
"Oh fuck…" she whispered, and Jack took that as a hint to pull the skirt up to her hips and grind against her now-exposed underwear, eliciting a louder, sharper groan and an almost painful increase in the grip of his neck. All the while, she had been feeling the urge to unzip his trousers, pull her thong to the side and let him take her there and then…but, in a moment of clarity she opened her eyes and just about managed to catch sight of the floor level indicator.
Goddammit.
Thirty-sixth, she noted with crushing disappointment. If women had the equivalent of blue-balls, she definitely felt it.
"Times like these…fuck, right there…that I hate being a CEO…"
Jack made a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like a 'why' as he nibbled at her neck, one hand having moved up from her right hip and was now teasing her right nipple through her suit, blouse and bra. She almost lost the ability to speak with the heat burning inside her, but with every ounce of clear-minded effort she forced out the next sentences.
"…because…while there's nothing I want to do more than have you fuck me against this wall…we're almost at the….shit, Jack…fortieth floor, and if someone catches us…oh God…we would be in…big…trouble…"
To emphasise the point she uttered a disappointed whimper, especially when Jack ceased his ministrations with a throaty growl. Never before had she cursed the speed of the elevator so much, it was either achingly slow when she had somewhere to be, or too fast when she just wanted to bask in the electrifying sensation of an orgasm.
He pulled away and stared at her with an expression that danced between irritation and disappointment, but Elsa knew exactly how to soothe and relieve that. Quickly sliding her skirt back down and re-adjusting the collar of her blouse to hide the brand new marks, she shot little looks of coyness at the now grumbling soon-to-be-co-CEO and, as she leaned forward to brush her lips against his ear and seductively whisper into his mind and libido, she made it all better.
"Besides," her words as soft as a dandelion clock as the elevator approached the fortieth floor, "I have plans for us tonight…and none of them involve clothes…"
Jack's trousers suddenly got a whole lot tighter.
It had to be the fiftieth time that Jack checked his pocket-watch, and Elsa was seriously considering stapling the fucker to his head.
Three-thirty, with half an hour until the Stock Exchange closed, and the board of directors were still reviewing the offers that Phil himself had brought over. They could both understand why the suits were so intent on picking apart every single letter, number and final calculation, but with the knowledge that today was the last day that they had a chance of preventing the hostile takeover, neither Elsa nor Jack could judge each other for the rising impatience and irritation in their stomachs.
The other reason they were having trouble retaining their tempers was that one of the directors was late. Jack remembered her name as Jeanette, and she had been the most keen to question them when he brought the proposal last week. One empty seat…one untouched offer. Standing with their backs to the directors as they gazed out of the window at the opulent, attractive, picturesque scenery that was a snow-covered Arendelle City, Jack tried to curb the feeling of uncertainty in his chest while Elsa attempted to compartmentalise hers.
"I don't get it," he muttered under his breath, "this is a pretty big thing. You'd think Jeanette would be here."
Elsa said nothing, but the stiffening of her shoulders and the mildly loud exhalation of breath was all Jack needed to see. The director's tardiness was a source of worry for her too. For this to work everyone had to be on board – and sometimes all a shareholder or director needs to do to delay business of the board, or any decisions that are made…is to not turn up. Normally, that would require a large minority, but with the incredibly tenuous hold that Fractal Fashion had on its own stock with Black and Southernisle breathing down their necks, all it takes is one.
Today, on the raggedy edge between success and failure, a missing member was something they could ill afford.
Elsa still focused her gaze out into the city, stopping upon the New Year countdown globe in its heart, and Jack took a moment to glance around the room. The directors were still poring over the offer, some doing minor calculations on their phones. Phil, Hiccup and Merida were engaged in lively conversation, with the co-CEO leading the way with some stories about his time as a Marine. Anna and Kristoff had parked themselves behind the small desk to Jack's right, discussing something that was evidently extremely important…with the younger Snowfield occasionally bouncing in barely restrained glee.
All of them had taken time out from their day for the momentous event – 'Wouldn't miss it for the world! I can pack later!' Anna had said not long after her revenge prank – which filled both of the CEOs with warm appreciation and pride…and now concern with the worry that it was all going up in smoke.
"You know," Elsa broke the quiet with a drastic subject change, "when I compared you to Star-Lord, it was meant to be a compliment."
Jack's gaze flicked back to her and his eyes practically shone with a boyish twinkle.
"Oh I knew," he said, a lopsided smirk cutting across his face, "I was just teasing you."
"And you do it so well."
Jack's smirk grew wider and took on a whole new level of smugness, and after a quick glance around the room to check he was not being observed he moved his mouth close to her ear, close enough to arouse yet far enough to remain professional.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet."
His seductive whisper sent shivers from her ears and down her spine, and with a roll of the eyes she sharply nudged him in the ribs.
"Great," she sarcastically groaned under her breath, "now I'm tense, worried and even more turned-on than before. Thanks."
"You're welcome. I aim to-"
He was interrupted quite comprehensively by the sudden bursting open of the meeting room door, and every head in the room turned with surprise to find a rather breathless-looking Jeanette stood, grasping her cell phone in her left hand and a wide-eyed expression of mild panic on her face.
"Am I too late?" she gasped, trying to calm the furious breathing with her right hand on her chest. Jack shook his head with an expression of mock-nonchalance, and made a show of checking his pocket-watch.
"No, no…you've still got….twenty minutes to go. I mean, if you really wanted to give us a heart-attack, you could come back in about, oh, ten minutes?"
He couldn't resist having a little – or rather large – acerbic dig at the board member, which prompted another sharp nudge from Elsa's elbow into the other side of his ribs for a matching pair. Merida sniggered quietly at the dry comment, which Elsa expected, but what puzzled her was that Jeanette did not retort or even shoot him a reproachful look.
"I apologise…for my tardiness," she said, finding it a little easier to speak and manage her breathing, "I was…delayed."
Elsa nodded politely and gestured with an open hand to the empty chair.
"That's quite alright, Jeanette. Please, have a seat. The offer is waiting for you."
She quickly acknowledged the CEO's suggestion and made her way over to the indicated chair, and Jack now joined Elsa in extreme perplexity when Jeanette rapidly scanned through the offer, nodded her agreement and announced her acceptance in the space of about fifteen seconds.
"Wait…shouldn't you actually read it?" he asked incredulously.
"I've read what I need to, Mr Overland. I accept."
Jack and Elsa cast surprised glances at each other. Jeanette was the one that seemed hardest to convince when he was last in this room, and was now the first person to agree to the offer. What deepened the surprise – and swelled a storm of hope inside the two CEOs – was that one by one, the rest of the board members followed suit and indicated their acceptance…including the man who voted against the merger a few days ago.
As per Elsa's instructional email, every member pulled out their cell phones and dialled their brokers in New York, relaying the intent to sell their shares to the brokers that Phil had commanded to watch the stock market. So far, everything was going to plan.
"Well…that was easy." Jack observed, curling a single eyebrow.
"Yes…" Elsa slowly nodded. She frowned as Jeanette, who was busy explaining to her own broker, gazed out of the window with an expression of discomfort and worry.
Too easy.
"I hope you have good news, and know how to close a door behind you."
The Duke didn't even look up from the document he was reading as he spoke – somewhat tersely – to the technician that had entered his office. He hated the fact that the Southernisle building was still effectively cut off from the outside world as far as the internet and telephone was concerned, it slowed progress and made them incredibly vulnerable.
Still, Richard Black had indicated that he was flying back today, the events of Southernisle's crippling and Pritchard's ousting forcing him to reconsider staying in England for the few days he was intending to and bring his schedule forward. The Duke had noted with a little amusement that the shareholders of the Scottish whisky company were proving rather difficult to turn, so he had decided to return to the States in order to finish the acquisition of Fractal Fashion. That way, Southernisle's resources could then be turned towards DunBroch Whisky, making that acquisition a hell of a lot easier.
Babysitting one company while running his law firm would be a pain in the ass, and one that he was relieved to find he would not have to endure.
"Erm…good and bad, sir."
Now the Duke looked up, and regarded the unfortunate man with an imperious stare.
"Clarify."
The technician gulped as he shut the door, and with a galvanising deep breath he prepared himself for the onslaught of reprimands.
"The good news is that we have the telephones back once more. I've managed to fix it so we can make national calls, but nothing international."
"And the bad?"
"Erm…the computers, the network, that's a lot harder to repair. Whatever program that was on the laptop has destroyed most of the operating system files on each computer. I'm going to have to order brand new software to fix the damage, repair it from the ground up."
"And the case files?"
"I couldn't say. They might be intact, they might not. Until I can fix the operating systems, I won't be able to give you an idea."
"How long will it take?"
"On my own? At least a month."
The Duke leaned back into his chair, lacing his fingers in a pyramid as he glared daggers at the technician – who shrank quite a bit under the hail of metaphorical blades. Finally, the Southernisle partner spoke with a monotone, emotionless voice that elicited quite a bit of discomfort within the poor techie.
"Do what needs to be done, and enlist anyone you need to expedite the repairs. You're dismissed."
The techie nodded and thanked him for his time, and with his head bowed he scurried out of the room…and with an irritated growl, the Duke noted that he had left the door open. Slumping into the chair, he pinched his overly long nose with two fingers and rubbed circles into the bridge, silently cursing the mess that Pritchard Black had gotten his firm into.
A knock at the door snapped his eyes open, and with yet another glare he flicked his eyes to the newcomers – two of them. Now these people he was happy to see.
"Got a minute, boss?" Sideburns asked, keeping himself in a position to leave should the Duke decide that a minute was far too precious. The boss nodded, and made a 'come in' gesture with his hands. Taking the two seats directly opposite him, Sideburns and Yard Brush rested themselves against the leather and waited for the Duke to speak.
"Well? Anything to report?"
Yard Brush shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. He and his partner were never stationary; they always liked to be on the move – that way, if anyone is chasing them then they are always one step ahead.
"Something you'll find interesting. As we all know, Overland survived the…fire, and according to our source he is merging his company with Fractal Fashion."
The Duke leaned forward with his hands on the table, and his face took on an expression of deep interest and more than a little worry. If it succeeded, it would be yet another failure to report to Richard Black, and should the two companies merge then it could make it more difficult to acquire them. Southernisle, while a law firm that skirted with illegality, liked to remain as neutral as possible. A bigger company meant more resources to dedicate to handling the…details…of an acquisition, more police to bribe, more blackmail threats to manufacture, the list went on. The greater their task, the higher the risk of being caught.
"When? When does this merger occur?"
"Today. Miss Snowfield has instructed the board members to sell their stock to Overland's company as close to the end of the trading day as possible."
The Duke's eyes narrowed and half a smirk appeared on his lips.
"Clever girl. The Stock Exchange is closed tomorrow and she's banking on that. If she can get the company's stock sold just before it closes and finalise the merger today, then there will be nothing for Richard to acquire on Wednesday, because Fractal Fashion will not exist. I underestimated her."
"There's a lot of that going around." Sideburns remarked dryly, and what would have been a reproachful glare from his boss was actually nod of acknowledgement. Checking the time on his gold Rolex watch, the Duke noted that it was now three-thirty.
"Agreed. Thank you for telling me, I have to place a call to Black's brokers in New York. We have a half-hour window to intercept this transition."
The two men nodded and rose from the chair, quickly leaving the Duke alone in his office. Reaching for his landline telephone, he flicked over the rolodex until he landed on the desired contact card, and dialled the New York telephone code. Agitatedly tapping his finger on the wood of his desk, he waited for the inevitable brrm brrm to cease.
Finally, a click followed by a sunny, feminine voice announced the connection, and with a barely concealed sigh of relief he greeted the woman on the other end of the call.
"Hello, Jessica, it's Julian Weselton here. Can you put me in contact with Richard's stockbrokers please? I have time-sensitive instructions for them."
A/N:
Four, maybe five chapters to go. Trapid and Jelli Kelli, there will be smut next chapter - pretty much the entire second half. Possibly Ex-Valentine's Day level, possibly not. Depends on how tasteful. Hans' storyline has concluded.
I'm just not feeling great at this point in time and can't guarantee when the next chapter will be BUT I still extend my thanks to every one of you that read, review, follow, and favourite. Without you, CttT wouldn't be where it is now, and every time I see the little Gmail icon pop up it makes me feel that little bit better - but don't take that as extortion or anything, cause it isn't. Oh, and to those that recommended this fic in their own stories (you didn't have to), thanks very much. I appreciate it.
Until next time, true believers.