Chapter 3: Trial by Fire

​Clara

I don't know about him, but if he believed that I would be rattled after a few days by a big, cold, serious look, he was mistaken, because in seven years I became a woman of steel.

With the thick leather binder in one hand and my tablet in the other, I pushed the glass doors open. As I walked in he was not looking up from his work station. The three large screens cast a blue glow on his angular face, and he looked more like a statue of marble than the boy with whom I shared a five dollar slice of lukewarm pizza on my dorm room floor.

I approached his desk and set down the binder with a purposeful, heavy thud.I walked over to his desk and placed the binder with a firm, deliberate thump. As well as the 5 year projection analysis you asked me for.

Finally, he raised his eyes. Those grey eyes, cool, calculating and utterly unreadable scanned my face before settling on the binder.

“You took the records with you,” he said, his voice crisp and intoning. I am definitely more of a digital briefing kind of guy, Ms Mercer. Paper isn't very efficient.

​I didn't flinch. Actually I leaned in an inch... that was a customer-service smile I had that sliced glass!

I replied smoothly, "If you go to page three of your tablet's inbox, you will see an encrypted P*F I sent 5 minutes ago with hyperlinked footnotes. The paper copy is for your meeting with the board at three o'clock. Old school investors, like Arthur Vance, like to hold something. I figured a CEO of your caliber would want his team ready for all people.

There was a deafening silence between us. The air in the office was heavy, oily, and charged with an unnatural electricity that was no more benign than it was oily.

I saw the millimetre in his jaw.

He breathed, "anticipating client preference," his eyes on mine, a shiver of unexpected intensity running through me. "Impressive."

“That's the price I'm paid, Mr. Thorne.”

He motioned to the smooth leather chair across from his desk, "Sit.

I sat, my spine straight, my knees crossed, not blinking my eyes away from him.

He opened the binder and spread out the pages with his long, elegant fingers, "We are heading for Hampton on Thursday morning for the weekend at the Hampton estate with the senior partners. It will take a lot of your time and be very discreet, "you will be scheduling my schedule, filtering all communication, and making sure the syndicate representatives don't have free run on my private study.

“Well, I know what's expected of me at work.”

He paused, his fingers on the edge of a page. His grey eyes turned angrily dark, he looked up.

This isn't just a regular business get together, Ms. Mercer. The people here aren't just businessmen, they are sharks. If you're not careful, if you let your own distractions take over, He leaned forward, put his forearms on the desk and made the leap between us. Before the weekend is over I will replace you.

​Personal distractions. What courage the man had.

I came closer as well, not letting him scare me, facing him at inches distance. I could smell his cologne on him: sandalwood, cedar, rain. Yet it wasn't like the cheap vanilla body wash Julian used to wear, it was the warmth of his skin, achingly familiar and agonizingly so.

You don't need to worry about my focus, Mr. Thorne," I purred, controlled venom dripping from my voice. Seven years ago I eliminated all my distractions, I am now only concerned with results.

His pupils widened, his eyes grew to his sockets, for one split second, a micro-fracture in his mask, his gaze fell to my lips. In a deep and sharp inhale, his chest rose, and I glimpsed a hunger that was raw and unchecked across his face before he withdrew; the wall of ice was up again as soon as it had fallen.

He spoke in a lower voice, his lips thicker, than before, "Good. “Then show it, by six on my desk.”

I stood up and smoothed down my skirt and turned on my heel towards the door and said, "It's already in your inbox.

My hand reached the cool steel grip, and he halted me with his voice.

​"Clara."

It was a touch when he actually said my name on his lips and not Ms. Mercer's. My heart beat like a jackhammer in my ribcage and I went cold. Slowly I turned around.

​"Yes, Mr. Thorne?"

His hand was clenched, his knuckles white, as he stared at me, his expression completely unreadable.

He softly replied, "Welcome to Thorne Enterprises.

“Thank you, sir,” I said as I walked away, then the heavy glass door slid closed behind me.

Then I stood in the hallway and leaned against the cold wall, closing my eyes to help settle my pounding heart. He was playing a dangerous game but I wasn't the innocent girl he left behind. I was going to give Sebastian Thorne a war if he wished, and he did.