I present to you: Chapter 9, and right on schedule, too.
Jefferson can't be up to any good, can he? And who's the mysterious client Emma's been assigned to?
Enjoy! :-)
I was preparing myself mentally the best I could for my first meeting with the mysterious client Jefferson had assigned to me. I'd received little to no information about the client other than his name. Jefferson had said he was sure I knew who this Charles Hammond was, but I honestly had no idea. Unfortunately, neither did Google.
It felt like I was out on deep waters as I had nothing to grasp on to. I liked having absolute control, and having it all ripped away from me made my brain feel like a tangled ball of yarn. I had no clue as to what end to start untangle the mess. It was all a part of the test, I assumed, as Jefferson clearly knew stuff he simply did not want to share with me.
Jefferson himself had spent the morning being awfully quiet, only throwing me the occasional smirk here and there. He seemed confident and content in his decision to hand me the responsibility and put me in charge of it all. I wasn't sure as to why, apart from his speech about the importance of trust. He wanted me to trust him, but how could I possibly do that when he was as secretive as a locked drawer, taunting me with its unknown contents.
He gave me a wide smile as he dropped by my cubicle on his way back from breakfast.
"Good luck now, Emma. Not that I think you won't do just fine without it," he paused and placed a steady hand on my left shoulder. "Luck that is," he added.
The smile on his lips didn't fade the slightest, and his cheeriness did nothing but annoy me.
"Thanks," I murmured, my attention directed toward the digital numbers on the bottom right hand side of my computer screen.
I had nine minutes to gather my things, along with some coffee, and relocate to the room where the meeting would be held; a room that would be transformed into my very own office if things evolved according to plans. It wasn't huge, but it was a major upgrade from my cubical, and it had room for more than just a desk and a chair. I pictured how I would decorate it inside of my head as I rushed through the corridors.
Panorama windows on the opposite wall of the door were letting in the bright of the morning, almost blinding me for a second as I entered. By the windows was a generously sized desk with an office chair, large enough to be fitting a CEO, faced toward the room's entrance.
The other half of the room was occupied by an ellipse shaped wooden table, surrounded by two three seater black leather sofas and a matching armchair. Along the sides of the room were shelves reaching all the way up the ceiling, in the same bright birch material as the table, holding the more successful titles the company had published throughout the years.
I parked myself in one of the sofas and placed my things on the table in front of me. I could definitely see myself working from in there within a near future. I wasn't the typical material girl, but imagining my name, along with the word 'editor', on the door made me excited enough to barely notice the person entering through the door I'd left ajar.
"Swan?" A man's voice said. I knew that voice from somewhere, but it took my brain a couple of seconds to realize why and from where.
"Killian? What are you doing here?" I asked surprised, my eyes as big as plates.
"I'm here to see you, I suppose," he replied, one eyebrow raised.
My heart skipped a beat and I had to remind myself to breathe. He was looking devilishly handsome in a dark gray close-fitted jacket and sand colored linen trousers. Any other moment and I'd literally have thrown myself around his neck.
"Now is not a good time," I sighed and rose. "I'm awaiting a client, but I'll be done within an hour or so."
Killian scratched his head before I added, "want to grab some lunch by then?" I didn't want him to perceive me as short or cold, but his presence made me more nervous than I'd been all morning. Nervous and stressed.
"Emma, love. I got directed here by the receptionist. I'm here to see you."
Damn it. The receptionist knew I'd be busy the entire morning, yet she sent him in?
"You're cute when you're nervous," he smirked as I approached him.
I couldn't help but smile.
"I promise I'll make up for it later, but you can't be here right now."
"And you're cute when you're confused."
"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm not confused. And you always think I'm cute."
"You've no idea." The way he was looking at me made my cheeks heat.
He bit down on his lip and I had to mentally pour a bucket of ice cold water over myself to not give in to my impulses to jump him right on the spot.
I threw a glance at the clock above the door. Three minutes past ten. The client would arrive any second now. Stop being so annoyingly charming and leave already, Killian! What was I supposed to do, tell him to get the fuck out?
I placed my hand on the small of his back, ready to guide him through the door, as he began to laugh.
"You still don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?" I looked at him impatiently.
He took a step back and offered me his hand. "Charles Hammond. It's a pleasure to meet you, miss Swan."
Are you shitting me? The situation went from being awkward to outright embarrassing within half a second. I couldn't find any suitable words, yet my mouth was wide open.
"Believe me, I'm as baffled as you are. I thought you said you were working as your boss's assistant," he laughed.
It wasn't a laugh of discomfort, but rather an amused one. How could he not be uncomfortable, when I felt like sinking through the floor?
"I, uh… I am. He wanted me to take on this client -," I corrected myself, "you, for whatever reason. I accepted as he tempted me with a permanent promotion."
"Well then. Can't seal any deal standing in the doorway though, love. Are you going to invite me in or what?"
"I'm sorry, of course," I said and motioned toward the leather sofas.
Killian sat down and crossed his legs casually. I swallowed loudly as I watched him eye me up and down, and up again. His eyes locked on mine as I took a seating in the armchair.
"I hope you liked my gift."
"Clever to name the turtle Steps," I responded.
"You can thank me later I suppose," he smiled at me as I nervously skimmed through the forms I needed to document the meeting.
"All right, let's get on to the business then, shall we? I take it you want to go by Mr. Hammond in the paperwork?" I asked.
"Aye. I've got my reasons for it," he replied.
Reasons I was dying to know, but I was confident he'd tell me eventually. At least that's what I wanted to believe.
"Tell me a bit about yourself." It felt weird asking, but that's how Jefferson always started meetings with new clients, and the background of the author was of uttermost importance, for various reasons.
"Well Swan, what do you want to know?" He smirked.
"Start with the basics," I replied, trying my best to act professional.
"I grew up in a seaside town of Ireland as the only child. Regular kids activities, like bicycling or playing soccer, didn't appeal to me. Instead I discovered my passion for the sea as I accompanied my father on his boat. He began teaching me everything I needed to know about sailboats and sailing, and at a very young age I entered my first sailing competition."
He cleared his throat.
"Want something to drink?" I asked.
"Water's fine," he responded as he rose and approached the water cooler.
Normally, I would've insisted on serving the client, but I was still experiencing awkwardness enough for an entire month. Besides, Killian was a man who fended for himself. We had that in common, him and I.
"Where was I?" He asked as he once again sat down, this time in the seat closest to the armchair, closest to me, his elbow on the armrest.
"First competition," I reminded him.
"Oh, yeah, right. So, I won, and got a taste for it and continued competing. A couple of years later, my family left Europe as my father wanted to give me my best chance, and that wasn't in Ireland. All the prestigious championships were held here."
I gave him an encouraging nod to continue his story.
"The trophies began piling up, and as my father got sick, I found even more motivation to continue my winning streak, to make him proud. At the age of nineteen, I won the world championship equivalent when it comes to sailing, only a couple of days before my father passed."
Killian got quiet and it looked like he was reliving the memories as he spoke about them.
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said honestly. His mother never mentioned that part.
"It's a long time ago now, but talking about it still has this effect on me." He looked straight at me. "Anyway, my mother took over the role as my manager, and she kept pushing me toward one victory after another. Then was the car accident, which you already know of."
He paused to look at me sharply for a short moment that felt like an eternity, before he added, "tell me, Swan, and tell me honestly. You know the rest of the story too, don't you?"
He couldn't possibly know I knew, could he? I didn't want to lie to him, but his mother's story was still confidential information.
"You quit sailing," I said in an attempt to rescue myself out of his trap.
"And why did I do that?" Something serious spread across his face.
"Because of the car accident," I mumbled, barely audible.
"Look. I know my mother's been here, and I'm not stupid, Emma. Are you gonna keep lying to me, or should we try being honest with each other?"
His words felt like a punch in the stomach. He wanted me to be honest, but he'd left out substantial details himself. I had to remind myself I was working, and had to treat Killian with the same respect I'd treat any client. Not because I wanted to be able to sign contracts with him, but because of work ethics. I'd have to save any issues of a more personal nature for later.
"She's been here," I responded. That much I could say without getting myself into any trouble.
"When were you planning on telling me?" He sounded upset, and I guess he had all rights to be.
I squirmed nervously. "I'm not allowed to talk about projects in development with anyone outside the company. I'm not allowed to talk about it with most people at the company either for that matter." I closed my eyes for a brief moment, praying he would understand, before I let out a heavy sigh.
Killian eyed me for a good moment, and I was unable to tell if he'd accepted my excuse or not.
He finally broke the silence. "I need you to know that whatever my mother told you isn't the entire truth. There's more to it, and I can't have her release this story, my story, without at least having had the chance to tell it myself. Will you help me or not?"
If whatever he had to say was important enough for him to ask for my help, I wasn't going to be the one turning him down. I was no longer doing this for Jefferson, for that promotion, to feel good about myself or to be able to add shiny, new adjectives to Dr. Hoppers list, but I was doing it for Killian.
I laughed. It was a badly timed laugh, but the way this man had somehow managed to enter my life like a raging tornado was quite amusing. In fact, it made no sense. A little more than a week ago, I wasn't even aware of Killian's existence, and now he had invaded my life on more than one level. I had to remind myself I wasn't just asleep, having a weird dream. I mentally pinched my arm.
"My boss really wants this story, you know. Taking a business approach on it, so do I."
"But?" He asked.
"As someone who cares about you, are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this? It seems to me it might complicate your relationship with your mother," I said truthfully.
"You care about me?" He smirked.
"Stick to the topic," I said, unwittingly returning his smirk. The effect he had on me was almost comical.
"Emily's done a great job complicating our relationship on her own accord, that much I can assure you."
"If you say so," I said as I went through the papers on the table, manually adding a clause to the contract. "You'll have to sign these… Charles. Take your time to carefully read through them though, I don't want you to have to have any regrets."
"I never regret anything, Swan," he winked.
"You've got quite some explaining to do," I exclaimed as I stormed Jefferson's office. I didn't bother to close the door behind me; I didn't care if the entire floor heard our conversation.
I could only guess why he had wanted me to take on Killian out of all the clients our company had. The only explanation that made any sense was that he was trying to get back at me for Friday evening, that he had added one and one together as he followed me to the elevators to explain himself and saw me with Killian. He remembered me listening in on the meeting with Emily, realizing that the things I already knew would put a strain on mine and Killian's relationship as I wasn't allowed to talk about it. Not with anyone. It all made me furious.
"Please, have a seat," Jefferson said as he motioned toward the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
"The hell I won't," I hissed.
"What's the matter, Emma? Don't tell me you didn't get along with Mr. Hammond?" He kept his calm and held on to that annoying smirk he'd had all day.
"Why did you do it?" I asked with my voice lowered, ignoring Jefferson's self-righteous questions.
"My apologies if you didn't enjoy my surprise. I was certain you would. Oh well, silly me," he rolled his eyes at me.
"You really do want this deal though, don't you?" I lowered my eyebrows.
"I don't think I need to explain why I want to publish both versions of the story. Just imagine how the headlines would affect the sale figures; famous athlete writes a tell-all biography to get back at his mother, a mother who also happened to write a tell-all on her son's life - who's telling the truth?"
"Then give me one good reason to not shred these papers into a million pieces." I leaned over his desk and held the contract inches from his nose.
"Well, go ahead with it if that's what you want. For some reason I doubt you do."
"And what do you know?"
"I know destroying those papers would hurt your dear boyfriend's feelings. And we don't want that now, do we?" His narrowed eyes locked on mine.
"The only one with hurt feelings here are you, Jefferson. After your speech about the importance of me knowing the difference between your private and professional selves, and you aren't even able to distinguish them yourself? Pathetic," I growled.
"Watch your tone, young lady," he glared at me.
"Or what? You're going to fire me?" The thought made me laugh.
"Perhaps I will. Now, if you'll excuse-"
"Oh no, you won't." I interrupted him. "I think you're severely underestimating me."
He tilted his head. "Do enlighten me, dear."
"You see, I added a little extra spice to the contract. It specifically says I, and I alone, am the only person allowed to publish 'Mr. Hammond's' novel. Fire me and you might as well tear the papers yourself."
If he wanted to play dirty, then dirty he'd get. It wasn't that I badly wanted to keep my job, but I wanted to make sure Killian was treated fair and square. After I'd seen to that, I couldn't care less if I got to keep my job or not. Jefferson had proven himself to be a poisonous snake, and I wasn't the person who'd let others run me over.
"Clever girl," he smirked at me. "I guess I won't mind keeping you around for a bit longer if it's going to be this entertaining."
His words made me feel anything but comfortable. He was enjoying all of this, that much I was sure of.
All the anger! Emma's (with all rights) mad, Jefferson's obviously mad, expressing it in his own ways... I guess the only one who's not mad at the moment is Killian, unless being mad at his mother for reasons yet to be revealed counts.
Chapter 10, which I'll be posting on Sunday like promised, will be quite amusing, I assure you.
Please do share your thoughts by leaving a review below, lovelies. :-)