Free Canada Square (Love in London #3) by Carrie Elks

talkative side from me. Is it because I look new, or because I'm unimportant enough to be sent down to pick him up?
    When I push the heavy door open, the team stand. Callum walks forward, introducing himself, shaking each man's hand in turn. He has the ease of someone who knows where he's come from and where he's going. It hits me as strikingly attractive.
    My only destination has always been “not here”. Until now my life has been less of a journey and more of an escape. I wonder what it must feel like to be so sure of yourself, so comfortable with who you are. Maybe it's something the rich feed their children, along with their daily vitamins and silver spoonfuls of castor oil, giving them a sense of self-worth along with their shiny hair.
    “Coffee?” Callum asks, his voice breaking through my thoughts. I immediately flush, my pink cheeks matching the scarf I wound around my neck this morning.
    “I'm sorry, what can I get you?”
    He shakes his head slowly. “I was offering you a coffee, Amy. Would you like one?”
    Beside me, Daniel says nothing. The others place their orders, as Callum walks over to the flasks the catering service brought in earlier. Pressing down on the lever, he fills four china cups with steaming black coffee. It's so strong the acrid smell fills the room.
    “I'll take mine black.” Daniel takes the proffered cup. “Thank you.”
    “Did you have a good flight?” Callum asks as he pours milk into the other cups. Then he passes them over one by one. The first to Brian Johnstone—the CFO, the second to Saul Shoemaker, Grant Industries' chief counsel. He hands the final one to me. It's muddy and sweet, painting my tongue and palate.
    Five minutes of awkward small talk follows, and I step back, letting Callum and his team take the lead. The coffee is strong enough to give my blood a little fizz, energising me. Everybody finally takes a seat and Callum fires up the screens, filling them with brightly coloured slides that reflect in the window across the room. They flicker as he progresses through them, providing a voice over to the charts and projections, his words smooth and reassuring.
    I realise that he's wearing a different persona, too. His accent is smoother than normal, his tone lower. He's all smiles and good looks, appealing to them with words of praise and reassurance.
    Every now and again I glance over at Daniel Grant. His elbows are on the table, his hands clasped, fingers steepled. I notice he rarely looks at the screen, in spite of the vast array of information that flashes there. Instead he concentrates on Callum, the two of them sharing eye contact in a way I'd find uncomfortable. They’re scoping each other out.
    Callum reaches the end of his introduction and hands over to one of his technical team, who begins to talk through the intricate specifications of the proposals. The poor guy is barely two minutes into his spiel, when Daniel waves his hand, and asks him to stop.
    Immediately the techie looks over at Callum, looking for direction. This is clearly a part of the presentation none of them have rehearsed, and he looks lost, standing up there, his mouth opening and closing silently.
    Strangely, it's Daniel who takes charge of the situation, turning to him with a reassuring smile. “I'm sorry, I know it's rude, but I don't need to go into details right now.”
    The man at the front visibly swallows. His Adam's apple bobs up and down, stretching the thin skin of his neck. “Are you sure? We have some really cool stuff...” he trails off, looking down at his highly polished shoes. I can't help but feel sorry for him. I know how much effort it takes to get ready for a presentation. The preparation, the nerves, the fear that slowly morphs into elation.
    “Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?” Callum's accent is stronger this time, and he's unable to hide the disappointment that veils his words.
    “Yeah, but I'd like us to chat somewhere else. Just you and me.”