The Enemy's Puppet

Chapter One

In a 30 storeyed, glass-built building, owned by the Martins, on the 29th Floor, was the office of the only heir of The Martin Family; Leon Martin, the Managing Director of Martin Marketers, one of the best Marketing and Advertising agencies in Paris, France.

The Martins started off back in the mid 20th century as one of the pioneer marketing and advertising agencies in the world in partnership with The Styles' who are now their biggest competitors in the field.

The rivalry that started more than half a century ago, still exists, as the enmity passed down from one generation to the next. And although none of them ever backed down from playing dirty, they still had their limits that they'd not cross. Their morals wouldn't let them.

At least, yet.

Leon Martin, the only heir of Martin's family, had his life planned out for him from the day he took his first breath. He didn't really have a choice other than taking up the business that he inherited from his ancestors and, honestly, he'd not want it any other way. And as with the last name, came its perks. He didn't have to climb his way up to become the Managing Director, he owned it.

In his black and white themed office were the Martin Marketers logo framed on the white wall behind his black leather executive chair and the black wooden desk that sat in the middle of the room, on the white fur mat with two chairs in front of it. Two black leather couches sat on each side of the office facing each other, adding to the theme of the office.

Next to the couch, there sat an open black wooden spherical shelf with inspirational books on it and daily business magazines, while behind the couch, there opens a wide balcony to the busy view of Paris, also giving a far off peek of the love epitome; the Eiffel tower.

Sitting in his executive chair in his semi-formal outfit with black body-fitting jeans and a plain cream formal shirt, Leon Martin was going through the emails, sitting on the couch, on a windy December morning. It had been only a month after he'd joined the Martin Marketers, and he already possessed the knack of being a great team leader.

It was the last couple of days of vacation from his university, and he utilized the days in learning everything about the current trends in the market, and bits about his rivals' strategies and clients.

*Knock Knock*

"Come in" he answered without bothering to look up, as he typed something simultaneously, looking through the file in front of him.

The door opened and came in a blonde woman in a body-fitting knee-length nude skirt that had a lot on the back, paired with a satin halter neck nude pink top, giving her a professional yet sexy look, matching her aura.

"Sir, Mr. Martin expects your presence in the conference room". She spoke in a very thick French accent, standing at the door itself.

"Thank you, Ms.Henry, please inform him that I'll be there in the next five minutes. Anything else?" he answered politely as his fingers still typed furiously on his MacBook.

"Sure sir, and no sir, nothing else. I hope you have a great day ahead" she left the office after the greetings.

Shutting the laptop down after a minute of more furious typing, he pushed the chair and stood up, taking his black blazer and the file as well, as he had to confront his father about something on the file. Buttoning the middle button to keep the blazer in place, he walked out for the unknown.

Walking into the conference room, he found the members of the board of directors present there as his father sat on the main chair, leaving a place beside him for him.

"Take a seat Mr. Martin" Leon nodded and settled down by his side, placing the file on the desk and unbuttoning his blazer as he was greeted by stares as they all looked at him.

"Gentlemen, today we are gathered here to acknowledge the annual report of our company, which, thanks to all the hard work our teams have put in, is better than last year", Michael Martin, the CEO of Martin Marketers addressed them all, standing on the podium before the projector, which had the company's logo projected behind him.

Everyone clapped during the pause he took, before continuing, "This year, we have engaged with more brands and provided them with our best services, hence resulting in renewals of the contract between us and them."

Michael gestured to the assistant, Yaser, who sat in the first seat handling the presentation. The screen behind him changed, showing a graph with the company's logo now placed timidly on the upper left corner of the screen.

"Last year, we escalated the charts by 2.8%, which was good, but we had done better in the past and hence it wasn't as satisfying." Everyone nodded, and Michael continued, "This year, we have reached an all-time high with 4.1% profit than last year, so congratulations to everyone present here" Everyone put their hands together, erupting formal claps in the room, to acknowledge the outcome of their year-long efforts.

"But" Michael gestured Yaser to change the slide. "This year was by far the most interactive year in our field, which gained benefits for not only us, but our opposing brands as well." This created a little tension in the environment.

The next slide showed up, with 'Styles Marketing Inc." as the heading, making the environment even thicker with tension.

"Styles' Inc., which hasn't been able to cross our profits for the past few decades, has surpassed us in the number of new clients and the annual profit amount as well," he said with a sour taste in his mouth, as he looked at the presentation, pointing at the two columns made on it, "This, is our profit income this year, "€19 Billion" pointing to the other column, "This is theirs, surpassing us with total €24 Billion"

Turning towards the team, while the backdrop changed to the logo again, Michael looked stern at the attendees, "The heir of Styles' family, Lucas Styles, joined The Styles Inc. last year and this is the outcome. This should be humiliating enough for everyone present here. He has single-handedly beaten the unbeatable Martins and they're going to rub it in our damn faces"

Leon looked at his father, jaw tight, knuckles white as they were locked on the desktop. This was pure humiliation. He can't wait to crush Styles throughout the upcoming year. Mentally and financially. Socially even.

"I don't care what y'all do, where y'all get your clients from, what extent y'all go to, we need the lead back from the Styles Inc. again by the next year." Everyone nodded and Michael dispersed the meeting, asking Leon to stay back.

Once the meeting room consisted of only the two of them, facing each other, Michael's tone went from stern to soft and comforting as he spoke, "Leon, I understand the anger because I feel the same son, but this isn't your fault, you weren't an employee here the past year. And I am sure you'll do your best to get the lead-"

"I'll get the lead back, father. Don't you worry yourself." Leon cut his father's sentence, confident in his tone as he looked straight into his astonished father's eyes.

Michael smiled a confused but proud smile, nodding at him and patting his back, wishing him all the luck needed. Leon then diverted the talk from the depressing numbers to the errors he found in the file that he had brought along, getting in his workaholic mode.

It was the anger in him that he converted into the spirit and a will to work harder and earn out of it, instead of cribbing about it. He knew his powers, and he wished to use them in the best way he knew he could; work.

-

'Scotty boy, my place at 8 tonight' left Leon a message to his best friend; Scott Harrison, as he walked out the office premises to the parking lot, carrying his blazer on his arm, unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt.

Reaching his black matte Audi, he places his blazer in the passenger seat and takes a seat behind the steering himself. He's a rider, and never likes to rely on a driver to transport him to and from home.

Driving through the busy streets of Paris, he put himself in a trance of worries and planning with the demon inside him for the future.

Entering his penthouse, he walked straight to his bedroom, a black and white themed room with a king-sized bed touching the mid-wall, side tables on each side of it with spherical lamps on them, and eliciting dim white lights. A balcony on its right opens to the busy beauty of Paris.

Throwing the blazer on the bed along with his iPhone and watch, he cracked his neck, exhaling a sigh, it was a busy day for him. And although it was more than usual for him, he knew this was just the beginning of what would be an eventful year ahead.

Grabbing a quick shower to calm his sore muscles, he got himself in gym shorts and picked out a face towel and his iPhone, before heading straight to the gym downstairs.

"Adam, 2 protein shakes," he ordered the house help that was almost double his age, in his mid fourties, who was cleaning the coffee table in the lounge, before walking into the gym.

"You could at least use some manners copain," he heard his best friend's familiar voice as soon as he got on the treadmill for a little warm-up run.

"Hey, you're here," Leon addressed him and frowned as Scott plopped himself on the little bench at the corner end of the gym.

"Get your arse in gym clothes, and in here, in five" Leon shook his head with a sly smile, as he saw Scott stand up and bow at him like a butler before leaving to get ready.

The ever so bossy Martin; Leon Martin.

-

After a tiring workout at the gym, both men sat exhausted, but washed, on the couch in sweats and tees watching a football match on the living room television, sipping on their protein shakes as they talked lazily.

"Are you going to tell me mate?" asked Scott, pushing his legs on the coffee table in front, crossing his ankles.

"What?" counter questioned Lee, imitating him, getting more comfortable in the seat.

"You wouldn't call me here just to workout and chill, a day before new year's eve, I know there's more to this meeting" Scott countered, and Leon sighed, knowing there was no pushing this anymore, and that his best friend was an arse who knows him way too much to not understand his motives.

"Now tell me what's bothering you" demanded Scott, as they sat on the white leather couch customized specially for Leon happened by his loving mother, who also happened to be an interior designer.

"Get me the details of Lucas Styles and his clients," Leon asked after he explained to him bits and pieces of whatever happened today in the office.

"By tomorrow. But, why though? What's the plan? If I may ask," Scott sipped on his protein shake as he waited for an answer, which never came.

Scott sighed, knowing how mysterious his best friend could be, he would never speak of his plans before executing them. It is who Leon is. He never spoke anything, he did it. His actions were louder than his words and he definitely reaped great results out of them.

He may be a man of few words, but he definitely was a man of his words. Doing his best to do what he promised. Always.