Chapter 1 #2
Douglas Green was an intimidating man with a commanding presence.
He stood 6’4” with broad shoulders, chiselled features, and a full head of silver hair.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, every movement he made was precise and deliberate.
Leah had always admired his sharp intellect and unshakable confidence, but it wasn’t until she watched him in action that she truly understood his reputation.
He got results. People listened when he spoke.
She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever be able to adopt that same steel-edged authority—or earn the loyalty and respect of his employees.
“Can I have a quick rundown of the day, please, sweetheart?” Douglas asked.
Eloise at reception blinked at Leah. She was just one in a long line of people who disliked Leah for her seamless entry into the financial world.
“Dad,” Leah muttered.
“What?”
“Will you stop calling me sweetheart at work? I told you—I’m trying to fit in.”
“I call everyone sweetheart,” he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
“I’ve never heard you refer to anyone by anything other than their surname,” she challenged.
“Okay, I get it. I’m trying. Treating your own daughter like an employee is hard,” he said, clearing his throat theatrically. “Let me try again. Green, give me a rundown of the day.”
“Rude,” she whispered.
“Please,” he added with a grin.
“You’ve got three check-ins this morning with senior analysts, then a meeting with potential investors at 10:30, followed by lunch with industry contacts at 12:30 . . .” She checked her calendar. “Mr. Fraser, I believe. Do you need me to prep anything for lunch?”
“No, I know David well. Did you book a table at Kawabun?”
“I did. They’ve reserved your favourite corner table.”
“Wonderful.”
“I also prepared a tailored plan for your meeting with Mr. Norman this afternoon. He’s looking to grow his finances, and based on his file, he could be a huge client.
I also thought it might be worth reaching out to the new investors at DJ Morgan Financial Services.
If they’re looking to expand their portfolio, we could be a solid prospect—we’re outperforming them in eight out of ten categories.
Maybe pitch something, see what they’re willing to offer? ”
Douglas smirked. “I’m impressed. You’re showing real initiative, kid—sorry, Green. Keep up the good work.”
It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that she had a chance to sit down with him again. He didn’t give her a moment to ask about how his lunch meeting had gone.
“I need you to attend a fundraiser tonight in my place,” Douglas said, typing furiously on his laptop.
“Tonight?” Leah’s eyes widened.
“Yes, I know it’s short notice, but one of my biggest clients moved our meeting forward. He’s only available for a few days and—”
“Dad, I can’t just attend a fundraiser with two hours’ notice!”
“It’s actually four hours—you don’t need to be there until 7:30.”
“Dad!”
“It’s Mr. Green,” he said, smirking again.
“Oh, now you want to pull rank. Brilliant.” Leah opened her laptop and began typing fundraiser appropriate outfits––at short notice into her browser.
“I’m sorry to spring this on you, kid. But when a client says, ‘get on a plane to Tokyo tonight,’ I get on a plane. There’s no negotiating.”
“What am I supposed to wear? Where is it?”
“It’s at The Seagram Building on 52nd. And wear a dress?” He said it so casually it made her want to scream.
“Will there be any famous people there?”
“Does it matter?”
“Famous people means paparazzi. And paparazzi means I can’t show up in last season’s collections. Do you want me to embarrass your company like that?”
“I doubt the paparazzi care about my company, sweetheart,” Douglas chuckled.
“Oh god, I am not prepared for this. I haven’t even had my nails done. Look at them!” She shoved her hands across his desk.
“So paint them,” he shrugged.
“Do I have to go? Is there really no other option?” she pleaded.
“No. It needs to be a Green representing the company—someone who can talk me up to all the clients who’ll be there.”
“And what makes you think I’m going to talk fondly of you?” she asked, folding her arms.
“Because you’re my favourite child.”
“I’m your only child,” Leah muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Exactly. Now take the rest of the afternoon off. Head to Fifth and get yourself a new dress.”
Leah sighed. If the staff at Douglas Green Advisory Group didn’t already dislike her, they were about to loathe her even more.
Leah thanked the dress lords as she stepped out of her Uber and onto the slippery footpath of 52nd St. Surprisingly, the third dress in the second shop had been the chosen one.
The emerald green satin cocktail dress was just below the knee in length with delicate straps and a sweetheart neckline.
Aside from black, the colour was the closest match to a number of her already owned accessories.
The sound of camera shutters clicking and voices murmuring filled the air. There was a red carpet at the entrance to the venue, with photographers eagerly snapping pictures of the guests as they arrived.
Leah immediately felt out of place; a red carpet meant high-profile guests, and Leah was way out of her depth.
Her father could hold his own around the high-level clientele, Leah, on the other hand, had minimal experience with celebrities.
Three years into her career with her previous company, she accidentally walked into a meeting room that was occupied by the CEO and a potential future partner—a very popular teen superstar.
She mumbled a greeting and rushed off scarlet red and embarrassed.
Leah also claimed to have met Sophia Bush at a coffee shop in New York—met was a rather inaccurate perception.
She, in fact, brushed against her arm as she exited the building, but there was a split second of eye contact, and that was enough for Leah.
Besides, that whole interaction was now far more appealing to Leah after finding out Sophia Bush joined the rainbow train.
What a queen.
The reporters in attendance called out questions as the guests approached. As Leah hurriedly made her way past the red carpet and into the entrance, nobody attempted to ask her anything—phew. It worked in her favour to be unrecognisable, she thought.
The entrance was adorned with floral arrangements and twinkling lights.
The security welcomed her inside, their uniforms crisp, and their stature grand.
One of them yawned, and Leah laughed in response.
It seemed she wasn’t the only one feeling the long-lasting effects of living in NYC.
She was always tired. It wasn’t an exaggeration—most nights she slumped on the couch after work, to a takeaway box, and re-runs of whatever long-standing hit TV show she stumbled upon first, but she loved it.
Her father was one of many old-school inhabitants who worked all hours of the day and night in order to get the job done.
She had known him call her at 4 a.m. after a business meeting.
Once nicknamed the city that never sleeps, post-COVID NYC anecdotally had become the city that did sleep.
There was no rushing for dinner at 11 p.m. after a Broadway show and expecting every restaurant to be open; many had adjusted their hours during the pandemic and never reverted.
The Walgreens and McDonald’s that were always so reliably 24 hours a day now closed at midnight.
Leah didn’t necessarily feel affected by the change because New York prior to now had simply been a vacation spot for her, but the grumbles of long-standing residents were to be heard by everyone across the city.
Leah may never long for a 3 a.m. pizza slice, but she sure would’ve liked the option.
A striking corridor clad in marble led the way to the event space.
The high ceilings and mesmerising chandeliers gave the space an unmatched elegance.
Beautifully dressed guests mingled and sipped the complimentary champagne.
Douglas Green would know 75% of the people in that room; Leah knew nobody.
Her career had always required an element of networking, so she wasn’t afraid to spark up a conversation, but this wasn’t an event in Michigan.
This was Manhattan, the leading letter of the names being the only similarity.
This wasn’t a high-school disco—there would be no ice breaker or name badges to support anxious attendees. Leah had to find a way to mingle.
She made her way towards the bar. The room capacity was 350 standing; a few seats around the centrepiece of the room were available for those who did not wish to stand.
The energy of the event was infectious. Leah worked her way through the room, smiling occasionally at whoever made eye contact.
She said hello to individuals who she didn’t know but hoped might ask her a question that could spark a conversation—they didn’t.
In the centre of the room was a large white-marble fountain.
Shimmering chain curtains surrounded the pool of water; purple flowers floating atop the warm lighting turned the pool into a violet lavender haze.
It was one of the finest event spaces Leah had ever borne witness to, and with that overriding thought she felt a sudden pang of sadness.
The vulnerability of her situation left Leah yearning for someone to share the experience with.
In what capacity she wasn’t sure, but she wished for someone to take pity on her in that moment.