THE SECRETARY'S REVENGE

CHAPTER3

LEAH MORGAN

The air feels thinner than it should.

Three cups of coffee sit warm on the tray in my hands, and an idea settles into place before I've fully decided to use it.

It'll look like an accident. No one will ask twice.

I walk toward Mr. Houston, timing my stride so my foot catches the small step-up near the reception desk, the one I noticed yesterday and filed away for exactly this. The tray tips. Coffee goes everywhere, straight across Houston's suit and his assistant's sleeve.

Gasps ripple through the open floor.

"My goodness, are you blind?" the assistant snaps as I steady myself.

"Forgive my clumsiness, Mr. Houston." I pull out my handkerchief and dab at his jacket. "I didn't see the step."

"No need to make a scene, Logan." Houston waves him off. "It wasn't her intention."

It was the fullest of my intentions.

Building staff arrive within seconds, exactly as I expected. "We're so sorry, sir. Come with us, we'll have this suit looking brand new before you know it."

A small, satisfied smile settles on my face. An hour, maybe two, before they're ready to face Alexander again. Plenty of time to make sure he isn't here when they are.

I replace the ruined coffee with a fresh tray and head up to the office.

"Took your time, Leah," Alexander says when I set the cups down.

"I'll be quicker next time."

"Won't be needing them." He's already rising from his seat, the Boltons rising with him. The meeting's clearly done. "I'm heading to that dinner now. Lock the office before you leave. I won't be back tonight."

I step aside to let him pass with the Boltons. Jax drags his eyes over me on the way out, and I let the disgust crawling under my skin stay exactly where it is: out of sight.

Good thing the building's entrance and exit aren't the same door. Alexander and Houston will never have to cross paths.

The second the glass doors close behind him, I clear his desk and pull out the blueprint; the one meant for Houston, the one that would hand Alexander full control of the docks if the terms go through.

The doors part again. Cold black eyes, and something sharp and unimpressed behind them.

This is it, Leah. You f**k this up, and we may as well kiss that revenge at the back of your head, goodbye.

"Welcome, Mr. Hous…"

"Where is Alexander Holton?" He cuts me off before I finish his name.

I draw a slow breath, enough to steady my hands.

"Mr. Holton is at dinner with his fiancée's father."

"I see." His calm is worse than anger would have been: the kind of calm that means he's already deciding what to do about it.

I know what he's deciding. His flight leaves tonight. He doesn't have another day in this city to give Alexander, and whatever's waiting for him back home, he can't return without this deal in hand. If he walks out now, the docks go to Holton's competition by morning, and somehow, that ends up being my problem too.

He turns toward the door anyway, his assistant a step behind him.

"Mr. Holton would also like you to know he's prepared to offer commission on your operations once the docks transfer fully into his ownership, provided your shares in Castle Enterprises come with them."

His feet stop. So do his assistant's.

"Who are you, again?"

"Leah Morgan. Mr. Holton's executive secretary." I let the confidence sit steady in my voice, even though none of it came free. "I'm doing what any good secretary would do for her employer."

He doesn't look convinced. Not yet. But he doesn't leave either.

I'd spent the night before reading everything I could find on Castle Enterprises and the man running it, his board, his shareholders, the quiet pressure they'd been putting on him to settle this exact deal before quarter's end. I knew about the shares before I knew his face.

I knew what those docks meant for Alexander's reach into Europe, and what full commission would save Houston in taxes he'd otherwise lose to government-run ports. I knew, too, what it would do for the parts of his shipping business that preferred not to be looked at too closely.

He studies me another moment, then takes out his phone and makes a short call, his eyes never leaving mine. When he hangs up, something in his posture has shifted; not trust, but calculation. He's decided I'm worth the risk of being wrong about.

"Fine, Miss Morgan." He returns the phone to his pocket. "But I want it in writing that I receive ten percent of profits once Holton assumes control of Castle Enterprises, for the next five years."

I press my lips together and nod. "Mr. Holton won't have a problem with that."

He glances at his assistant, who sets a briefcase on the desk and pulls out a short stack of documents, then hands Houston a pen.

"You'll give this to Alexander the moment he's back," Houston says, sliding the signed page toward me. "Tell him it's my word, in writing, that those shares don't go to anyone else. And tell him I expect the same kind of guarantee from him, signed, before I leave the country."

The moment he and his assistant walk out, I lower myself into Alexander's chair. For the first time, I understand exactly what the view from behind this desk is worth, how small the rest of the world looks from up here.

Alexander is about to find out what it feels like to be small too; to beg for scraps from an empire he used to own outright. But it's Clara I want watching when it happens. His fall is just the stage I'm building for hers.

My victory doesn't get to last long.

The glass doors slam open, and a pair of furious blue eyes are already crossing the room toward me.