CHAPTER TWO: Collision Course
1994 Words
The Ting Group Tower loomed above Hillwood like a glass and steel monolith, seventy stories of architectural ego that reflected the morning light like a beacon. Abigail lingered on the other side of the street, coffee in hand, and stared at the building with the same intensity she had once given to final exams.
She had spent time getting dressed this morning: the Armani suit with Louboutin heels that added her three inches of extra height, pulled-back hair in a chic chignon, light makeup that accentuated her natural features without looking like she'd gone to a lot of trouble. She looked pricey, successful, like someone who should be in places like this.
At precisely 8:30 AM, Abigail stepped across the street and through the revolving doors into the lobby. The interior was even more breathtaking than the exterior ceiling-high ceilings, marble floors, a rigid abstract sculpture that probably cost more money than her family owed in total. It was all designed to intimidate, to make visitors recall that they were entering a temple of power and money.
Good. Abigail had never been intimidated easily, she approached one or the receptionist.
"Good morning," said Abigail, being polite. "I'm here to visit Mr. Ting."
The receptionist's smile never wavered, but a change came in her eyes. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but…"
"I'm sorry, no, but Mr. Ting doesn't accept walk-in meetings. The rejection was friendly but stern.
Abigail had expected as much. "I know, but all I need is five minutes of his time. I'm Abigail Meek, and I have a business proposal that"
"Meek?" The receptionist's perfectly shaped eyebrows rose by a fraction. "As in Meek Fragrances?"
"Yes."
"I see. Well, as I said, Mr. Ting doesn't accept walk-in meetings. Not at all from representatives of bankrupt companies looking for handouts."
The tone hurt, but Abigail's expression did not change. "I'm not looking for a handout. I'm looking for an opportunity to"
"Security!" The receptionist's voice was sharp as she pressed a button on her desk. "We have an unauthorized visitor who must be escorted out."
"Wait, I just"
"Miss, you must leave the building."
"I just need five minutes," Abigail insisted, her voice weakening despite attempts at calmness. "Five minutes to speak with Mr. Ting about"
"Mr. Ting does not have five minutes for failed businesswomen who come crawling to beg for mercy," the receptionist said coldly. "The perfume industry is cutthroat. If your company could not cut it, that is not Mr. Ting's problem."
The security guard's hand tightened. "Come on, miss. Don't make this difficult."
"Take your hands off me," she snarled, her voice low and menacing. "I can walk myself out."
The guard didn't release her. Instead, he began to guide her in the direction of the door, and Abigail was humiliated as she was marched across that pricey marble floor while the whole lobby came to a standstill to gawk. Other guests, workers beginning their day, delivery personnel, all of them looking on as Abigail Meek, heiress to nothing, was thrown out like so much rubbish.
She was so focused on clinging to what was left of her dignity that she did not see the man stepping out of the private elevator until she practically collided with him.
It was as if it occurred in slow motion. The guard pushed her forward just as the man moved into their path. Abigail stumbled in her heels, coffee cup flying out of her hand, and slammed into what felt like a brick wall draped in designer clothing. Strong hands caught her arms, steadying her, and she was left looking up into the most unyielding grey eyes she'd ever had the misfortune of meeting.
Leonard Ting.
And she'd just spilled coffee all over him
"I…" Abigail started, but the words stuck in her throat. She was still caught in his grip, his warm hands visible through the fabric of her blazer, and those grey eyes were studying her with a depth that made her feel like a specimen under a microscope.
"Are you injured?" His voice was low, controlled, with a faint hint of an accent she couldn't quite place.
"No, I'm fine. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to" She looked down at the coffee stain on his spotless white shirt. "Your suit, I'll pay for cleaning, I"
"Sir, we were just taking this woman away," the security guard interrupted, releasing Abigail's arm. "She was attempting to force her way into your office without an appointment."
Leonard's expression didn't change, yet something leaped in those grey eyes. "I see. And your name is?"
"Abigail Meek."
She waited for a reaction, but his face didn't shift. "Meek Fragrances."
It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway. "Yes."
"And you're here without an appointment because.?"
"Because I need a job, and I'm good enough at what I do that it would be your loss not to hire me." The words came out sharper than she'd meant, pride and desperation combining into something that sounded almost like confidence.
Something shifted for the first time in Leonard's expression. Not so much a smile, but almost. "You have exceptional courage for someone whose company just defaulted."
"Confidence," Abigail said. "Not courage. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Courage is charging in without regard. Confidence is trusting that you're good enough to make it happen and then making it happen." She jabbed at the blot on his shirt. "Though I'll say the follow-through was not there."
Did that glimmer of amusement in his eyes? It was impossible to tell with a man so well in hand.
"Your business is bankrupt. Your father is hospitalized. Your family name is now identified with failure in the world of scents. Why would I even think about employing you?"
The bluntness should have been offensive, but Abigail enjoyed it. At least he was not attempting to be someone other than what he was. "Because I graduated first in my class from Anderson Business School with a double major in business strategy and chemistry. Because I have a complete knowledge of how to formulate fragrances and what's trending in the marketplace. Because I'm proficient in three languages and can learn additional ones. And because I'm hungry in a way that your existing employees, self-satisfied in their six-figure salaries, will never be."
Leonard tilted his head, looking at her. "You're desperate, too, so you're unpredictable. Unpredictability is a business asset..
"You have five minutes. My office. Eleventh floor." He turned to the security guard. "Let her through."
"But sir"
"Did I stutter?"
The guard hovered on the verge of attention. "No, sir. Of course, sir."
Leonard was already walking down towards the private elevator, his long legs eating up the distance. Abigail tagged along behind, her heels clicking rapidly across the marble. She arrived at the elevator just in time as it was closing, stepping into it and finding herself in a small, intimate space with the man who represented all that she required and despised.
Abigail kept her eyes fixed on the numbers climbing above the door, hyper-aware of Leonard standing beside her. He was close enough that she could smell his cologne something expensive and subtle, with notes of bergamot and cedar. Professional. Controlled. Perfect.
"You have coffee on your face," he said without looking at her.
Abigail's hand darted to her cheek, and naturally, there was a small smear of lukewarm liquid. She wiped it away hastily, feeling embarrassed. Professional and composed, what a joke.
The elevator opened into what appeared to be an executive suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of Hillwood, and the furnishings were the minimalist modern that only came at the cost of an arm and a leg to appear so stark. Leonard's office sat behind glass doors to the left, a space twice as large as Ethan and Lily's apartment.
"Five minutes," he said. "Make the case as to why I ought to hire someone whose last name is going to cause my board members to question if I've lost my mind."
Abigail breathed deeply. This was her chance. Her single opportunity. She'd better not blow it.
"You shouldn't hire me," she stated.
That made him sit up and take notice. He turned to her; an eyebrow c****d. "Interesting opening strategy."
"You don't have to employ me as another worker. You need to employ me as a consultant. A fixer. Somebody who understands the weaknesses of your competition because I've been through the total collapse of my own company." She took a step forward, her confidence growing by the sentence. "You want to monopolize the perfume industry? I can show you exactly how to do it. All the errors my father made, all the vulnerabilities Charlotte exploited, all the flaws of our business plan I can map them all out for you and show you how to exploit such vulnerabilities among your other rivals."
Leonard's expression was blank, but she knew she had his attention. "In exchange for what?"
"A salary. A fair one—I'm not stupid to think I have negotiating power here. And." She hesitated, then continued. "And finally, when I've worked to earn my position, I desire resources to rebuild Meek Fragrances. Not as a competitor to Ting Group, but as a subsidiary. A prestige brand in your portfolio."
"Ambitious."
"Necessary."
"And revenge?" Leonard asked, his voice low. "Is this revenge against whoever destroyed your family business as well?"
Abigail stood firm, staring him straight in the eye. "Yes."
She was ready to be thrown out for being so blunt, but instead Leonard nodded thoughtfully. "At least you're honest about it. Most people try to try to be beyond such motive. something sordid."
"I'm not most people."
"No," he agreed, going back to his desk. "You're not."
He pressed a button on his phone. "Alex, draw up a normal consulting contract. Effective date today. Compensation." He looked at Abigail. "How much were you making working as a TA?"
"Thirty thousand annually."
"Sixty thousand. Nonnegotiable. Six-month trial period, then we revisit based on performance. On my desk in an hour."
"Yes, sir," said the speakerphone.
Abigail's eyes flashed with anger at him, still not accepting what had just happened. "You're. you're hiring me? Just like that?"
"I'm giving you a probationary contract," Leonard interrupted. "Whether you remain on the job or not has absolutely everything to do with whether you can perform what you've promised." He grabbed a file on his desk and tossed it to her. She instinctively caught it. "That's all we know about Fontaine Group's new product launch. It's three weeks from now. I want a total analysis of their strategy, their vulnerabilities, and a plan for undercutting their launch and positioning our new line as superior. On my desk by Friday."
"That's three days," Abigail said, running her fingers through the file.
"Is that a problem?"
She looked up, her smile a genuine one for the first time since she'd been inside this building. "Not even a little bit."
"Good." He returned to the windows, gesturing toward the door in silence. "Leave the door open behind you. And Miss Meek?"
She hesitated by the door. "Yes?"
"Don't make me regret this."
Abigail walked out of Leonard Ting's office with her head held high, a contract in her name being written up, and hope barely at restoring all she'd lost.
She didn't notice the way Leonard watched her leave, or the devilish smile he gave as she walked out of his office…
And she sure didn't notice the folder he pulled out of his desk drawer after she left, the one with her name on it and the detailed background check that showed he'd had a notion who she was all along before she ran into him in the lobby.
Leonard Ting did not react by accident.
Gazing through the window he gasped “what took you so long miss Meek…. I have been waiting for you”
- Writer
