Chapter 15 #2
The man standing in front of me is dressed in a perfectly tailored gray three-piece suit, posture rigid, expression unreadable.
For a moment, I think my exhaustion is playing tricks on me.
He looks startlingly like Theo—the same sharp jaw, hair coloring, and green eyes.
There’s no mistaking who this is—Mr. Cuthbert Harris. Theo’s father.
“Miss Minami, is it?” he says, flashing a calculating smile that reminds me of a shark.
I stand. “Yes, sir. That’s me.” My voice sounds embarrassingly small even to my own ears.
“A pleasure to have you here.” He extends his hand. His grip is firm and all business, but his eyes never leave mine.
Everything I say and do from here on out needs to be handled with extreme caution. He’s dangerous. Theo wouldn’t have dubbed him Emperor Palpatine without a good reason, and that alone tells me everything I need to know about his character.
Leon approaches from across the room, holding two coffees. “Mr. Harris,” he says, a look of surprise crossing his face.
The older man turns, and irritation flashes through his features before it smooths away. “Mr . . .?”
“Billings,” Leon says, shifting awkwardly. “I worked on your design team here a few years back.”
“Ah. Yes. Mr. Billings.” He nods. “I trust London has been treating you both well.”
“Yes, sir,” Leon replies.
Mr. Harris’ attention returns to me. “Good. I hear you’re assisting Theodore on the Vortex Rise project.”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“It’s rather curious that he’d need two engineers flown in from . . .?” He pauses, his eyes slowly traveling over us.
“Orlando,” Leon supplies.
“Yes.” He wrinkles his nose, his gaze flickering toward the window as if he can see all the way to the Atlantic.
“That little backwater city better suited for retirement than a high-level engineering firm. I never understood why he lobbied for an office there of all places. But he’s always been an odd one. ”
The way he says “odd” makes my skin crawl. It’s like he’s talking about a defect rather than his own son.
“Well . . . how is the project proceeding? Are there any ongoing complications I should be aware of?”
“No, sir,” Leon answers, shoulders stiffening. “Everything’s on track.”
“Brilliant. Our expansion into the Canadian market is riding on this project.” He pauses, turning his cold, clinical focus back to me.
“Theodore may not have mentioned it, but we’re also looking to expand into the Asian market.
I imagine someone with your background could be very .
. . influential in helping us open the right doors. Specifically with the Tanaka Group.”
The Tanaka Group operates the largest number of theme parks in Asia.
They’ve always worked exclusively with Sumida Engineering, one of Japan’s most established design firms. Does Mr. Harris think he’d be able to convince Mr. Tanaka to work with him instead?
Because that would never happen. Mr. Tanaka only works with other Japanese companies.
The terms of my NDA were supposed to be ironclad to protect my family’s privacy. No one outside of the core HR department should have had any access to my file. This isn’t the kind of information that just slips out in a meeting. And it tells me that this man is even more dangerous than I imagined.
“I’m not sure what I could do,” I say carefully. “Mr. Tanaka is a friend of my father’s, not me.”
“I’m sure we could think of something.” Harris laughs to himself. It’s cold and almost on par with Cruella de Vil.
The sound of footsteps behind us breaks the tension. I turn, relief washing over me when I see Theo. He’s back to normal in a pressed blue shirt, silver tie, and black slacks.
The moment he takes us in, his stride slows. “Mr. Harris,” he says evenly.
Not Father. Not Dad. Just a cold, professional title that mirrors the distance between them.
“Theodore.” Harris nods curtly. “I was just acquainting myself with your staff.”
I spy Leon rolling his eyes.
Theo’s jaw tightens. He takes a half step forward, subtly placing himself between us and his father. “If you’ll excuse us,” he says, his voice clipped, “I need Kaori and Leon for a meeting.”
“Miss Minami, a pleasure,” Harris says.
I manage a polite smile.
“Mr. Billings.” He gives Leon a brief nod. “Theodore.”
He strides away and Theo exhales, planting his hands on his hips. “I was doing so well avoiding him today.” It’s rare to hear Theo sound anything less than composed. “Sorry about that. You two all right?”
“Yup. Good to see Mr. Harris’ bedside manner hasn’t changed,” Leon says, raising his coffee cup like a toast. “I’m amazed he recognized me.”
His attention stays fixed on me. “Kaori?”
“I’m fine.” I force a smile, pushing aside my thoughts for later. Right now, my focus is Theo.
“What did he want?” he asks.
“Same old routine,” Leon answers. “Checking to see if you made any mistakes.” He takes a sip of coffee, glancing at me. “And trying to cozy up to Minami.”
My stomach twists. I suddenly find the loose thread on my jacket sleeve very interesting. Please don’t ask more. Please don’t ask more.
Theo’s jaw tightens, his voice dropping. “Typical.” He runs a hand through his hair. “He never misses a chance to turn people into leverage. I can’t remember, but your father’s a diplomat, right?”
I laugh nervously. “Uh-huh,” I grunt, not technically confirming anything
“Well, I feel like we’ve hit our quota of family drama for one afternoon.
” Leon pushes to his feet, tucking his tablet under his arm and effectively cutting through the mounting awkwardness.
“We’ve got the presentation deck ready for you to review before the board meeting.
Let us know if you want anything adjusted. ”
“I’ll be relieved once it’s done and we’re back in Florida,” Theo says, rubbing his jaw. “Might finally get my father off my back for a few days.” He glances between us. “Fancy a pint after work?”
Leon’s eyes glint mischievously. “Tempting, but I’m doing the Jack the Ripper walking tour.”
“You didn’t do that when you lived here?” Theo asks.
“Nope,” Leon says with a shrug. “You know how it is. You never play tourist when you’re a local. It’s an unwritten rule.”
“True.” Theo nods.
My throat goes dry. “I’m free,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
Theo’s lips twitch. “Brilliant,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at say . . . six?”
“Six o’clock, it is,” I echo.
Leon slides the tablet across the table. “Here’s the deck.” He winks at me before Theo can look up. “You can pay me back later,” he mouths—or at least I think that’s what he says.
I nod, hiding a smile, and turn my attention to Theo as he flips through the slides, already back in work mode.