The Alpha's Pursuit

Chapter 3 - Parker's P.O.V.

The company listed on the schedule has utilized our firm on several occasions. Adler & Sons LLC purchased a property located right on the edge of the Canadian border, near the Boundary Waters.

After reviewing the records, I noted that the construction resembled a small town right out of a Hallmark movie. Beautiful and quaint.

This new project surpassed our previous undertakings. It would be significant and require many hours of planning and collaboration for our modest corporation.

Still, hopefully, it would draw more clients once I updated our business site with the completed work. More nerve-racking than the sheer size of the construction itself–Mr. Adler himself would be in attendance today.

Surprised by his request, I questioned my employer. He confirmed that Mr. Adler, the CEO, insisted on being present at all meetings. This would be our second in-person meeting with company officials. The initial bids were won by three different companies, including our own.

Typically, the heads of the companies we worked with only attended two meetings—the acceptance of the bid itself and the unveiling of the finished building.

Mr. Thomas Braxton explained that the CEOs involvement made him an excellent leader. The employees admired and respected him for it. The word "employees" came out stammered, but I swore he started to say something else.

A stuttered pa—and then he changed his mind. Letting it go, I accepted his explanation and went about my work. Now, as I prepared for this meeting, those curiosities rose again to the surface.

The previous builds Adler commissioned consisted of unique, randomly placed buildings around the outlined area—cute little shops and houses in the designs, and the last construction–a school.

However, a much larger mansion dead center of all of it piqued my interest. Would the CEO place his mansion in the middle of town, like some arrogant king?

The one other unusual aspect was that they purchased this land in almost complete seclusion from any other city. Like, damn near in the center of the woods.

Would it be the site of the next Waco?

Shuddering with worry, I hoped I would not be held responsible if it turned out to be true. Mr. Braxton and I needed to have a conversation if nothing else to put my mind at ease. The complexity of these construction contracts baffled me.

I shook my head, reconsidering the entire strange arrangement, and let out a sigh.

“Not my monkey, not my circus,” I whispered to no one.

Do we still have circuses with monkeys? Huh, I’ve never been to a circus before. Oh well.

After getting out of bed, I went to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. I planned to arrive early for the meeting and ensure I had all the necessary items organized. I needed to arrange the calculations and spreadsheets onto polished letterhead.

This month, our business tripled, leaving us overwhelmed with paperwork, not just for Adler & Sons LLC but for several other clients as well. Planning not only to dress to impress, but also to bring the best possible presentation, charged me with energy.

I considered working over the weekend, but I decided that getting it taken care of first thing Monday morning would be sufficient.

There may be last-minute changes, and I would hate to have to reprint everything. From my past experiences, I've learned that redoing everything was incredibly frustrating, so I wanted to avoid that headache.

Binding the hard copies and downloading the electronic version to the company's tablets remained on my to-do list.

After being hired, one of my first projects involved encouraging Mr. Braxton to embrace modern technology.

Larger companies may offer more attractive bids, but we have managed to remain competitive. Our small town of International Falls was not so small that technology has passed us by, so I decided to order a few iPads for the office.

I admit it was a small step forward. While Mr. Braxton called me a genius, that wasn’t true; he was just easily impressed. Even with the bit of tech I introduced him to, he would still be ten years behind.

The tablets would enable us to email signed documents to the client within seconds if they accepted our bid. I also had paper reports available if they preferred them.

The fact that Mr. Adler demanded his attendance at each meeting surprised me. In my usual work routine, I met with project managers and engineers, but meeting with CEOs made me anxious. I worried that my lack of experience would become apparent, which could undermine their confidence in our company.

Other men attended the introductory presentation in his stead. Other vital matters required Mr. Adler's presence. He had intended to be there, but relief flooded my veins when other important matters pulled him away the night before.

However, due to his previous absence, I included copies of the necessary completed documents from that appointment. RFI (Request for Information) along with the RFP (Request for Proposal) and RFQ (Request for Qualifications) so he could catch up.

Nerves frayed the edges of my mind, but I reminded myself that Mr. Adler and my boss, Mr. Braxton, have been friends for years. f**k it.

Mr. Braxton loved my suggestions and fresh perspective, so I forged ahead and forced fake bravado. Besides, I’m educated in accounting, not in administration or IT.

Why should the size of our company or my inexperience embarrass me? This company must have been aware of this fact before it reached this stage of the bidding process.

Mr. Braxton welcomed my contributions during meetings and invited me to participate in all of them after a couple of months of employment. I don’t feel comfortable bragging, but people connected with me easily, despite my introverted personality.

After a refreshing shower, I blow-dried my dark brown hair and put on my business attire. I particularly enjoyed working with clients who preferred a Teams call over an in-person meeting.

On those days, I would wear jeans and dressy sweaters, with only my polished face and neat tops visible on screen. The COVID era felt like a lifetime ago, and in-person meetings were making a comeback.

Grumbling, I moved toward the walk-in closet. Wearing a dress ranked high on my list of most hated tasks. One hand sifted through the hangers of clothes while the other formed a fist.

I picked out a black pencil skirt and a red V-neck cross-wrap blouse, but I couldn’t help but scowl. I knew these clothes would be uncomfortable, which put me in a bad mood.

Since Nick and I split, I generally hid my body as much as possible, not wanting any attention on me. With a hint of frustration, I grabbed a pair of strappy wedge heels to complete my outfit.

My hair now pulled into a high, messy bun, I applied some light makeup. As I set the lipstick applicator down, I spun in front of the mirror before nodding in approval.

Swiping the thick, midnight colored glasses off the bathroom counter, I perched them on the bridge of my nose. The eyewear lent me an intellectual, if slightly nerdy, appearance that I hoped conveyed a serious nature.

My dark blue eyes, flecked with violet hues, attracted too many comments, making me uncomfortable. Chunky or colorful frames often diverted attention away from my irises.

It's true: when I wore glasses, I no longer received the same attention. Did I need them? Nope. They were designed as another way to keep me hidden in plain sight and complete my wallflower impression. Clark Kenting my way through life.

At one point, I bought plain brown lenses to wear for high school, college, and nightclubs.

With a rare eye mutation, I hypnotized those who favored eyes as their favorite feature. It was flattering, for sure, but over the years, it lost its appeal. The fascinated stares began to border on annoyance.

To clarify, I used to go dancing at bars in college when I befriended my roommate. However, it no longer gave me any pleasure, nor did I have the time. My social life has since diminished under the weight of my workload.

Back then, I wanted to rejoin my peers and possibly meet someone again. I did venture out there for a while. After turning 21, I partied for six months.

The fear of running into Nick faded the more alcohol I consumed. However, one night, I thought I spotted him in the corner of a crowded club. As I struggled to crane my neck for a better look, my panic rose when he suddenly vanished.

That marked the last night I ventured out for over a year.

As I pulled into the parking lot of Braxton Construction Company that accommodated roughly 20 cars in the front and an additional 30 at the rear of the building, I parked my car in the back. Notion that arrived before everyone else–just how I planned.

Preferring to park at the back since that was the entrance to my office, I carefully stepped out of my small vehicle.

The quiet welcomed me as I unlocked and pushed the door open into the dark office that felt more like my sanctuary. I dropped my purse on my desk before heading into the copier room that also housed our coffee machine and a fridge.

Grabbing a stack of the handheld tablets, I put those on my desk before starting up the coffee and returning to my office.

As the coffee brewed, I enjoyed a breakfast bar from home, wiping crumbs off my shirt every few minutes before continuing with uploading all the necessary files onto the devices that would soon be in the client’s hands.

The painstaking process came to completion before I then focused on printing the forms and folders I had created with our company logo.

I played with a loose strand of hair from my ponytail and swayed my hips to the music. The equipment hummed, churning out sheet after sheet into the exit tray.

The documents were collated, stapled, and bound as I bounced on my toes, lost in my head with my favorite music.

My shoes lay tucked under my desk after I kicked them off to enjoy an impromptu dance party. The footwear, AKA the devil’s creations, cut off my circulation after half an hour, so I took immense pleasure in discarding them.

My favorite music app blared from my phone as I sang along while I waited. Thankfully, no one could hear the cat-like sounds of a dying cat as I belted out the lyrics to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing" and Richard Marx’s “Hold Onto the Nights." My mom had introduced me to her love of 80s ballads.

The simple circular clock on the wall showed that it was half an hour before Mr. Braxton's arrival. The client would be brought in and introduced 30 minutes after his normal start time.

Well, if he had a normal start time, but I knew he wouldn't be late today. With a bit of luck, we would win the bid and secure Mr. Alder's business.

Noticing that I had plenty of time left, my mood brightened. The thought of my favorite coffee shop, just five minutes away, filled me with excitement.

Perhaps I could grab another mocha before the meeting. As Foreigner's "Waiting For A Girl Like You" began to play, my smile widened. It was one of my favorite songs.

The machine hummed to a stop, and I bent down to pick up the finished copies. As I straightened up, my back stiffened. A shiver ran through me as a rumble echoed throughout the copier room.

Turning, with a sense of cautious apprehension, I faced the source of the growl. My brain registered that the rumble was a growl–and I feared that when I turned, it would be Nick I faced. My heart pounded against my ribcage as I spun around. Oh, f**k!