14. Waving my white （collar） flag
CHAPTER 14
WAVING MY WHITE (COLLAR) FLAG
CHARLIE
I ’ve never had time for regrets. Happiness is tough enough to collect on.
I’d rather act and learn than wait and wonder.
When I originally apologized to Emma, I meant it. There was no reason for me to believe she’d be cut out of being recognized for her hard work. At least not until Roberts’s awful speech yesterday.
My blood’s still boiling.
It’s bullshit, plain and simple. There’s no changing the past, but I can damn well make sure that I’m not a part of his plan to cut her out again.
Until I can prove Roberts is playing favorites, I’ll have to convince Emma to work with me. The harder it is for him to separate us individually from the results, the more time I’ll have to make it a fair competition.
I just have to hope Emma doesn’t castrate me before then.
“What are you doing here?” she asks with a scowl.
It’s a fair question. I’m sure the last thing she expected when she woke up this morning was to find me parked outside her apartment, offering her a ride to work.
But we need to talk, and I have a habit of pressing my luck when it comes to her.
“Giving you a lift. Now get in.”
She looks incredible, as always. Hair slicked back today, with a black turtleneck belted over a deep green skirt that flows like water around her long, gorgeous legs.
She crosses her arms. “I don’t need your pity.”
“Not what this is. But if you really want to walk in those shoes, that’s up to you.”
She taps one her heel on the ground. “I’ve managed it every day for years,” she retorts, raising a brow in a way that’s far sexier than it should be.
I’ve seen her rubbing her feet under the desk when she thinks no one is around. So I watch her, silent, waiting.
Eventually, she drops her arms. “Thank you,” she says as she slips into the passenger seat, looking regal and untouchable.
Around me, her soft, sweet perfume is a lure, the kind I imagine could easily tempt wayward sailors who spend too many nights fighting the ocean, dreaming of sparkling eyes and red lips.
I’ve never wanted anyone more.
Biting back a groan, I grip the wheel and take off before I get any wild ideas. “Don’t mention it. You’re on my way.”
The journey is familiar, taking me back to when Reese and I moved here. So much has changed since then, including me.
Now I have the flashy apartment, and suits more expensive than my rent was in those days. That kid with a hell-on-wheels attitude probably wouldn’t even recognize me now.
What would he think of where our life is going?
When we’re two blocks from the office, I bite the bullet. “As fun as this whole game has been, I think we need a new plan.”
“Do you.” It’s not a question.
“Look, this isn’t working.” I glance over, careful not to be distracted by the way her smooth skin glows in the morning light. “We either put our personal shit aside and get this done or spend the next six months in hell.”
I can survive hell. Been there, done that.
But I’d rather see what else is lurking underneath those long lashes and sharp claws. Make her smile for real or, fuck, make her laugh.
Maybe even be friends. Crazier things have happened.
Plus, I really want to stick it to Roberts.
Emma’s silent for another block, though when I peer over, her expression is thoughtful rather than angry. That’s a good sign.
“Let’s say I agree,” she finally says, shifting so she’s angled my direction as I pull up to a stoplight. “How do I know you aren’t going to stab me in the back again?”
“My word.”
I haven’t given her much reason to trust me, but when I make a promise, I damn well keep it.
She shoots me a look I can’t hold because the light changes, but her gaze burns into me as I accelerate. Assessing my virtue, probably. I’ve been found wanting plenty in my life, but I don’t want now to be one of those times.
“We do this together,” I say. “Equal. I care about getting this procedure right. Whatever you think about me, I know you want that just as much as I do. We have the opportunity to make changes that will make the job easier. Don’t you think that’s worth it?”
I want to make up for the Robertses of the world.
I want to earn her trust.
I want her to want me back.
But I’ll take her partnership.
As soon as the car is parked, she holds out her hand, a peace offering if ever I’ve seen one. If only she knew that peace is the last thing I have any experience with.
We shake, her hold as firm as her gaze, demanding my commitment.
And that’s how it begins.
“So. Where are we at?” I ask.
Emma’s squared us away in a meeting room as far away from Roberts’s office as we can get, and she’s now commandeering the AV system like she owns it.
Honestly, I gotta hand it to whoever made that keyboard. With the ferocious way she types when she’s really mad, I’m shocked it holds up this well.
One of the best parts of my day is the inevitable scowl she gives me when she finally catches me admiring her angry tapping.
Emma connects her laptop to the screen and opens an offline file. Ahh . So that’s where she’s been hiding it.
“Roberts just reviewed it,” she says.
I wait for more. There’s none.
“Okay,” I say, dragging out the word. “And? On a scale of Marvel to Game of Thrones, how bloody is it?”
She looks me straight in the eye. “An episode of The Boys .”
Shit. “That bad, huh?” Bonus point for her taste in shows, though.
“It’s a disaster. No, worse. A catastrophe.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. It’s too fucking cute. “No one can agree. I’m ready to throw everyone in a room and?—”
I grasp her forearm to stop her. “Terrible idea. Only do that if you want to waste a day and lose all faith in humanity.”
“Great,” she deadpans.
I can’t help but smile at her. The project is probably fucked, but suddenly, working together is looking a hell of a lot more fun.
Why didn’t I think of this sooner?
Up on the big screen, the doc looks bloodier than a Carrie remake. Roberts clearly took glee in redlining all of Emma’s sections and leaving pedantic arguments over any bullshit thing he could think of.
Fucking hell. “What an ass.”
“He’s not all bad,” she says far too politely. She’ll need to be a better liar than that if she wants to last in management.
“You hate him,” I say.
Emma keeps typing.
I duck lower and angle in. “Admit it.”
Her breath catches. “I’d rather not.”
Ridiculous. I can’t believe she’d protect Roberts’s feelings over mine. I rock back. “You never seem to have any problems saying you hate me. Am I special?”
Briefly, the corner of her lips curls up, but she stifles it. Almost got her. “You’re different.”
Not exactly how I’d hoped to hear it, but it doesn’t stop the traitorous little jump in my chest. Good or bad, being anything to Emma will always be better than nothing.
“You want to know how I know you don’t like him?” I ask.
There’s no denying the flicker of interest in her eyes as she finally peers over at me. “Okay, tell me.”
“You get a little wrinkle,” I say. Slowly, because I’m a fan of keeping my limbs, I reach out and bop her nose. “Right here.”
She’s fighting a smile, but it peeks out at the corners.
“Am I wrong?” I ask, raising a single brow, and fuck, when she grins, she’s downright dangerous.
I’m seriously screwed.
“Is that why you’re being nice to me now?” she asks.
Ouch . I probably deserve that. “Maybe I just want to be your friend. Ever think of that?”
“I know you don’t respect me?—”
“Whoa, back up.” That comment hits me like a punch to the gut. How the hell does she think I don’t respect her? “When have I ever said that?”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Then let me be clear. I respect the hell out of you, Emma.”
She gives me a frown, clearly unconvinced.
“Fine, don’t believe me.” I drop my pen to the table and run a hand over my face. “Anyway, forget Roberts. Tell me how you wanna save this, and we’ll go from there.”
The first wave of the plan—and, of course, she’s already thought ahead for waves two and three—is to strip everything back. Document management 101.
“Off the top of your head,” she says, standing.
I’m almost 100 percent sure if I make a teacher joke, she’ll tear one of my limbs off, but I can’t help it when she looks so damn good like this. Passionate. Competent.
“What is the difference,” she continues, “between the Document Control Standard and the Document Governance Standard?”
It’s a trick question. There isn’t one, at least not one that can be worked out between its pages of overwritten, self-aggrandizing nonsense. “Showmanship?”
“See?” she asks, exasperated. “If the best document controller in the business can’t tell the difference, what hope does a layman have?”
Well, fuck. I’m grinning wide now, and if I had a damn tail, it’d be wagging.
Emma continues. “I’m not saying do away with the details, but there are too many here. And too many rules.” Now that’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear from her. “It’s forty-five pages long when it could be ten. It serves as the foundation, so it needs to be an overarching, easy-to-read document that outlines why we do what we do. The how comes later. Then every document underneath should start with identifying who it’s aimed at. One for internal users, one for external, and an instruction for DCs.”
Fuck, she’s smart. And damn if I don’t find myself getting swept up in her. Roberts is dead wrong. There is a leader in her. A damn good one, who cuts through the bullshit and—despite what I’ve thought in the past—genuinely cares about the people impacted by her work. She might come across as unmoving, but in reality, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
There’s a badass under all that politeness, and she’s electrifying.
“What about you?” she asks, and goddamn, the full force of her attention is like a shot of adrenaline. Even more surprising, she seems to really want to know my opinion. “What would you change?”
“The way I see it, we can’t change the regulation stuff, so we should focus on the areas we can. But too much change is going to make people panic. If we start with changing the shit that already annoys people, it’ll be easier to convince them to adopt it.”
She smiles. “Go on.”
My heart does a weird little flip. Goddamn, why does it feel like I just impressed the teacher? Fuck. Get it together, man.
“Fewer rules might not be the answer. Our processes aren’t really the issue. They’re just confusing as hell to follow, so people find the path of least resistance.”
“You’re right.”
I think it takes a full minute to process what I just heard.
Leaning into her space, I grin. “Wait, say that again. I wasn’t recording.”
And holy fuck, she laughs, real and loud, before dropping back into her chair with a looseness that’s got to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Well, as you’ve reiterated to me many times, vendors either don’t want to follow our procedures, or the project scope is too small to warrant rigorous compliance.”
Never have I ever been turned on by a thesaurus until now.
“And honestly, I can understand it. I’ve been wanting to untangle the mess around uncontrolled documents since the day I started here. It’s ridiculous the amount of energy we spend on supporting information that only needs to be kept internal or confidential but not referenced for operations.”
“Do that, and they may throw you a parade,” I say. “But we need to be careful. If we make it a free-for-all, it’ll be carnage, and site will have the bad kind of field day.” I sit back and press my hands against the armrests of my chair. “The last thing we need is to piss off the guys on the ground. They complain, and it’s straight to the boss’s ears.”
She sags back in her chair, her hands falling away from her laptop with a sigh. “Back to the drawing board, then.”
And just like that, I know things have changed.
A month ago, there was no way Emma would have admitted I was right or listened long enough to let me change her mind about anything.
It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. I’ve sat in day-long meetings with red-faced guys with bald spots discussing comment processes and turnarounds, and this is the first time I’ve ever gotten hot under the collar.
“If we can make compliance invisible,” she says, her eyes brimming with an intense focus. “Build it in so it’s automatically there as people create content. They’d have to go out of their way to go against it. The harder the system works for us, the better the experience for the people using it.”
Fuck. She is so much better suited to this than I am. Roberts shouldn’t have even asked me to do this. I work my ass off, and I know everything there is to know about how it works, but I don’t have these kinds of ideas. And here Emma is with a multi-step plan. Talking about keeping things system agnostic so we don’t have to rewrite the rules every time we so much as think of changing a button.
In short, she’s incredible.
“Sounds like a plan.” I tap my pen against my lips, and her attention drops there, shooting a thrill down my spine. “But if you really want this to work, you’ll need to convince a couple of key people. Ford in Ops, Samir in Projects, and Kamile and Jeremy Baxter across Engineering.”
Emma’s joy recedes. “You should be the one to talk to Baxter. He won’t listen to me.”
Funny, I didn’t take her for a quitter. “Giving up already?”
There’s a flash of fire in her eyes, and she straightens, pulling her shoulders back. Fuck, I love a woman in a power pose. “I’m not giving up. Baxter automatically vetoes every change I suggest. Has for years. I want to give us the best chance we have. And that’s you.”
That’s the kind of compliment that’ll make a man get down on one knee. And maybe I would if I didn’t think Emma would kick me while I was down there.
But then, I could be into that.
“I’ve worked with him for a while now,” I say. “And I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t convince him.”
She slow blinks, her lips parted, looking at me like I’m crazy. “Oh, really? Not one reason?”
If she gives me any more sass, I’m going to have to kiss her again. “Not the one you’re thinking of. Look, I know you get flack for your background, and Jeremy Baxter is a tough nut to crack, but he’s not the kind of guy who’ll give a shit about your last name. If you’re prepared to walk in there, explain why these changes will benefit him, and not take no for an answer, he’ll agree.”
She lowers her head. “I don’t think I can change his mind about this.”
“Why not? You’ve changed mine.” I lean forward, elbows on the table.
I’ve never seen anyone blush so beautifully.
“Oh,” I add. “We’ll need to get Emmanuel Fletcher on board.”
“Roberts’s boss? Do you really think he’ll care?”
Not yet, but… “We’ll make him care.”
And better yet, Roberts won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.