Chapter 2 — Office Politics
Third Person
The hum of the Glass Heights Corporate Tower buzzed faintly in the background as Clara adjusted the lapel of her tailored blazer. Her heels clicked sharply on the marble floors, a crisp rhythm that steadied her resolve. On the surface, she exuded poise, but her mind churned with the events of the morning. Ethan Caldwell, the ever-unflappable COO, had dismissed her proposal with a precision that still sent a flicker of irritation down her spine. Despite his calculated tone, she couldn’t shake the sense that his criticism was less about the flaws in her strategy and more about testing her mettle.
Inside the elevator, the mirrored walls reflected her composed exterior. She straightened her ponytail, hazel eyes sharp but thoughtful. She’d held her own in the boardroom, even earning a faint nod of acknowledgment from Margaret Langston. Yet the undercurrent of skepticism in Ethan’s piercing blue gaze lingered, like a gauntlet thrown. Was his challenge a sign of respect or a calculated attempt to test her limits? Either way, she intended to prove him wrong.
The elevator dinged softly, opening to the 24th floor. Clara stepped into the open-plan workspace, where the air pulsed with the usual undercurrent of ambition. Clusters of desks, partitioned by sleek glass dividers, bore small tokens of individuality—a photo of a family ski trip here, a potted succulent there. Clara’s desk remained pristine, save for a leather-bound notebook and her sleek fountain pen, a reminder of her meticulous nature.
“Bennett,” a voice called. Clara turned to see a junior associate waving a folder at her. “Caldwell wants you in Conference Room D. Something about the Haverton deal.”
“The Haverton deal?” Clara asked, keeping her tone neutral. Her fingers tightened briefly around the strap of her bag.
“Yeah, apparently it’s urgent. Good luck.” The associate gave her a sympathetic smile before hurrying off, leaving Clara to process the unexpected summons.
This wasn’t just a task—it was an opportunity. She nodded sharply, adrenaline sharpening her focus, and strode toward the far end of the floor.
Conference Room D was all glass and chrome, its minimalist design a stark contrast to the sprawling chaos of the documents strewn across the table. Ethan stood at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, his tablet propped against a coffee mug. The sharp scent of coffee mingled with the faint hum of the air conditioning. He didn’t glance up immediately as she entered, his focus fixed on the screen.
“Clara,” he began, gesturing toward the stack of papers without preamble. “You’re leading the Haverton negotiation. Their legal team expects you tomorrow morning.”
Clara blinked, her pulse quickening. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Ethan said, his tone clipped. He finally looked at her, his expression as impassive as ever. “This needs to be settled before the quarter ends. Their lead counsel is a hardliner, but I assume you’re prepared to handle him.”
His words were cool but pointed, a deliberate prod to test her readiness. Clara met his gaze unflinchingly. “Of course,” she said smoothly, placing her bag down and flipping through the documents. Her fingers brushed against her fountain pen in her pocket, its familiar weight grounding her. She scanned the contract quickly, noting the dense clauses and potential pitfalls. It was a minefield, carefully designed to intimidate. Perfect.
Ethan’s lips twitched, barely noticeable, as if he found her confidence either amusing or impressive. “Good. Don’t waste time with pleasantries—he’ll try to talk circles around you. Keep the focus on the numbers.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I think I can manage.”
Ethan leaned back slightly, his gaze assessing her. “We’ll see,” he said, his tone deliberately neutral.
Without another word, Ethan turned back to his tablet, effectively dismissing her. Clara gathered the documents, her mind already piecing together a strategy. If Ethan thought he could rattle her, he was about to be sorely disappointed.
---
The next morning, Clara stood in the lobby of Haverton’s downtown office, her fountain pen in hand and her game face firmly in place. The sleek, modern decor of the lobby mirrored Glass Heights, but the atmosphere felt colder. Clara’s heels clicked against the polished floor as she strode toward the meeting room, her mind replaying Ethan’s parting words. Keep the focus on the numbers. She would, but she’d do it her way.
The negotiation began with the opposing counsel, a sharp-featured man with an overly polished demeanor, attempting to dominate the conversation with a barrage of technical jargon and thinly veiled condescension. Clara’s fingers tightened around her pen as she nodded thoughtfully, letting his words wash over her. He clearly underestimated her.
“While your proposed timeline is ambitious,” she began, her voice calm and measured, “it doesn’t account for the supply chain disruptions outlined in Section 4. Without adjustments, this clause would leave both parties vulnerable to litigation in the event of unforeseen delays.”
Her tone was sharp enough to cut through his arrogance, and her deliberate pause as she poised her pen over the document unsettled him. He hesitated, clearly not expecting her to counter so directly, and she seized the opening.
“If we adjust the language here,” she continued, circling the clause lightly with her pen, “we can mitigate the risk while maintaining the timeline. Surely that’s a compromise we can all agree on?”
The subtle challenge in her words left him momentarily flustered, and she pressed forward with a strategic blend of logic and subtle wit. By the time the meeting concluded, the terms were favorable, the contract streamlined, and the opposing counsel distinctly less smug.
On her way back to Glass Heights, Clara allowed herself a rare moment of satisfaction. The folder in her bag was thinner, its contents meticulously annotated, and her confidence soared. She couldn’t suppress a small smile as she stepped into Ethan’s office, her posture relaxed but commanding.
Without knocking, she dropped the folder onto his desk with a quiet thud. “Handled,” she said crisply, meeting his gaze head-on.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral as he flipped through the notes. His blue eyes flickered briefly with what might have been approval. “Better than I expected,” he said finally, his tone deliberately understated.
“Was there ever any doubt?” Clara asked, her voice laced with just enough sarcasm to provoke him.
Ethan’s lips twitched again, but he didn’t take the bait. “We’ll see if you can keep it up,” he said, setting the folder aside.
Clara turned to leave, but as she reached the door, Ethan’s voice stopped her. “Bennett.”
She paused, glancing back over her shoulder.
“Not bad,” he said, softer this time, though his tone still carried its usual edge.
For a moment, Clara was caught off guard. She nodded once, her expression unreadable, and left the office.
---
By late afternoon, the office buzzed with anticipation. Clara stood near the back of the gathering as Margaret Langston addressed the team from the center of the open floor. The CEO’s commanding presence was undeniable, her voice cutting through the low hum of murmurs.
“The acquisition of Snowridge Estate represents a pivotal moment for Langston Developments,” Margaret began, her sharp green eyes scanning the room. “This project demands the best of both strategy and innovation, which is why I’ve chosen Clara Bennett and Ethan Caldwell to lead it together.”
Clara’s stomach tightened. A mix of excitement and apprehension swirled within her as she glanced at Ethan, who stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Their eyes met briefly, and she caught the flicker of annoyance in his gaze.
Margaret’s voice softened slightly as she added, “Snowridge will challenge us in ways no other project has. I expect you both to rise to the occasion.”
As the meeting dispersed, Clara approached Margaret. “Ma’am,” she began carefully, her voice low but firm. “Are you sure this is the best pairing for the project?”
Margaret’s faint smile held a touch of knowing amusement. “You’ll thank me later, Clara. This project will challenge you, but challenges are what forge the strongest leaders.”
Clara returned to her desk, her fingers brushing over the cap of her fountain pen as she processed Margaret’s words. The Snowridge project was clearly high stakes—both for the firm and for her career. She had no choice but to succeed.
Still, as her gaze drifted across the office to where Ethan stood in deep conversation with Daniel, his loyal assistant, she couldn’t help but wonder how they’d manage to survive the project without killing each other first.
