Against Mr.Grumpy
1608 Words
Emillia
I stepped back into my office and quietly closed the connecting door behind me.
For a moment, I simply stood there with the board briefing folder pressed against my chest.
The room was exactly as I had left it.
Adrian’s words echoed in my mind.
I don’t tolerate dishonesty. I expect accountability. Trust is earned.
I pressed my fingertips to my temples.
This was dangerous.
I set the folder on the desk and eased into my chair, my fingers tracing the edge of its cover.
Tomorrow’s board briefing.
He hadn’t looked at me with suspicion. He’d looked at me with confidence. He’d entrusted me with work that mattered.
Wasn’t that exactly what I wanted?
To earn his trust…so I could use it against him.
“Of course,” I muttered, drawing in a slow, steady breath. “You’re doing great. No mistakes, Emilia. Not now. Not ever.”
My phone vibrated.
I looked down at it—-Dad.
I picked it up slowly.
Did he suspect anything?
I stared at the message for a long moment before typing.
No.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Good.
Another message followed.
Send the schedule now.
My gaze drifted to the tablet on the desk.
The schedule was still there…containing informations my father wanted. Information I had promised myself I would obtain.
I unlocked the phone. Opened the camera. Raised it toward the tablet. Then stopped.
Adrian’s office was connected to mine by a single door. At any moment, he could walk through it again. At any moment, everything could collapse.
I lowered the phone.
My pulse quickened.
Take the goddamn picture girlllll
The thought sounded hollow….but I did anyway. The shutter clicked softly in the quiet room.
For one terrible second, I froze.
No footsteps came from the connecting door.
The office remained silent.
I sent the image.
My father’s reply arrived almost instantly. Good girl.
The words made my stomach tighten. Not relief. Not pride. Just the familiar weight of approval I had spent my entire life chasing.
I deleted the photo. Deleted the message. Then locked the phone and set it aside.
The board briefing folder waited in front of me.
I opened it.
Charts. Financial projections. Acquisition notes. Discussion points for tomorrow’s meeting.
The deeper I read, the more I realized how much responsibility Mr. Rashford had placed in my hands.
He had trusted me with this.
A woman he had met only hours ago. A woman who had already betrayed that trust twice.
I closed the folder abruptly.
The tightness in my chest returned. Not enough for the inhaler, not yet.
Just enough to remind me that I was balancing on the edge of something dangerous.
———
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, London glowed beneath the evening sky.
Inside Blackwood Holdings, the executive floor had begun to quiet.
I gathered the folder and slipped it into my bag.
I stood and looked once more at the connecting door.
A single door. A single barrier between his office and mine.
I turned off the desk lamp and stepped out of my office
The hallway was dim. Most lights were already off.
I had barely taken few steps when I saw two women. I didn’t know their names. Early 20s. Blazers, heels, chatting and laughing far louder than necessary
They were standing outside Mr. Ashford’s office. Staring in.
One of them whispered something and giggled. The other nodded, eyes fixed on him through the glass. He was on a call, jacket off, sleeves rolled. He didn’t notice them.
I stood several feet away, arms folded across her chest.
My expression was one of pure disgust.
“Seriously?”
They looked less like professionals and more like teenagers trying to impress a celebrity.
The office door finally opened.
Adrian stepped out.
They smoothing down their outfits, tossing their hair over their shoulders hoping to catch his attention.
“Good evening , Mr. Ashford.”
“You look very handsome today.”
Adrian didn’t respond. He simply continued walking.
One of the women quickened her pace until she was slightly ahead of him.
Then, as though she had suddenly lost her balance, she deliberately twisted her foot.
“Oh!”
She threw herself backward, expecting Adrian to catch her before she hit the floor.
He didn’t.
Without even slowing his stride, Mr. Ashford walked right past her.
She landed flat on the marble floor with an undignified thud.
For one heartbeat, the hallway fell silent.
Then—A snort escaped me
I quickly covered my mouth, but it was too late.
A laugh slipped out anyway.
Adrian stopped.
Without a word, he turned his head.
His expression remained completely blank as his eyes settled on me
Then he shifted his gaze to the woman sprawled on the floor.
His face showed the exact same emotion.
Nothing. No concern. No sympathy.
After a brief second, he looked away and continued walking as though none of them existed.
Her friend rushed over “Oh my gosh, Are you okay? Here” She grabbed her arm and pulled her up
I burst out laughing again. It echoed down the empty hall.
The woman on the floor flushed red. Her friend glared at me.
I wiped my mouth and kept walking.
The elevators dinged.
—-
The drive home was unusually quiet.
London’s evening lights blurred past the tinted windows of the taxi, but I barely noticed them.
My mind kept replaying the same conversation.
“Trust is earned.” “I don’t tolerate dishonesty.” “I expect accountability.”
I shut my eyes. “Stop thinking about him.”
I had spent ten good years preparing for this…One conversation wasn’t enough to change that. It couldn’t be.
Then another thought surfaced—the way he’d simply let that woman crash to the floor without so much as blinking was oddly hilarious. A laugh escaped my lips
“That man is so grumpy.” Still smiling, I leaned back against the taxi seat
When my phone buzzed
I answered almost immediately. “Hey dad.”
“Have you left the office yet?”
“I’m on my way home.”
“Good.”
His voice was calm. “What did he say?”
“He gave me tomorrow’s board briefing.”
A brief silence.
Then— “He trusted you already?”
“I guess.”
“Good.”
There wasn’t a trace of surprise in his voice. Only satisfaction.
“He also told me I’d be taking the minutes during tomorrow’s board meeting.”
His low chuckle reached my ears. “Even better.”
I frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“It means we’re ahead of schedule.”
Something about the way he said it made my stomach tighten.
“You’ll hear things tomorrow that most people never will.”
“Really…?”
“Listen carefully.” His tone hardened. “I don’t care how insignificant it seems. I want every name, every proposal, every disagreement.” A pause “Every document you can get your hands on.”
I looked out the window.
Rain had begun to fall, streaking across the glass.
“What if I can’t?”
“You can.”
“What if—”
“No.” His voice cut through mine. “You’ve been preparing for this your entire life.”
“I know.”
“You don’t hesitate now.”
The call ended before I could say another word.
I slowly lowered the phone.
The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Everything alright, miss?”
I forced a smile. “Yes.”
He nodded and returned his attention to the road.
I turned my face toward the window.
The reflection staring back at me looked exhausted.
—-
The taxi pulled to a stop outside our house.
It wasn’t much to look at.
A modest two-storey brick home tucked away on a quiet street in North London.
Nothing about it hinted at the obsession that had consumed the man waiting inside.
I paid the driver, stepped out into the cool evening air, and climbed the front steps.
Before I could reach for my keys…
The front door swung open.
“You took longer than expected.” My father stood in the doorway.
His eyes didn’t search my face.
They searched my hands.The handbag. The folder. The access card hanging from the lanyard around my neck.
Only when he saw them did a faint smile touch his lips. “Come inside.”
His voice carried the same authority it always had.
No How was your first day? No Are you tired?
I stepped into the house. The door closed behind me with a quiet click.
“I want to see everything.”
I followed him into the dining.
The table was already cleared. No dinner. Nothing. Just his laptop open, a blank folder on the desktop labeled BLACKWOOD.
He didn’t look at me. “Bag.”
I set it on the table.
He unzipped it himself and pulled out the board briefing folder. He flipped it open. Ran his fingers over the cover like he was checking for a tracker. Then he pulled out every page and started photographing them with his own phone. Fast. Methodical.
“Where’s the schedule?” he asked.
I took out my phone. AirDropped him the photo
He opened it, zoomed in. His jaw relaxed a fraction. “Good girl.” Again.
I hated that it still made something in me unclench.
He swiped to the next image of the briefing cover, grinning faintly
“Can I ask you a question dad?”
His thumb froze
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