Fierce

Chapter 7

Linc answered the office phone absently, dragging his hand through his hair in exhaustion. "Lincoln Holt speaking."

"Lincoln, there is a woman out here asking to see you."

"Oh shit. Pete, if it's Nina, tell her I'm busy. Or dying. Anything to make her leave!"

His PA tried not to snort at him. "No it isn't her. Trust me, I'm fully briefed on that code red situation. No, she said her name's Miss Abel?"

"Oh."

"Should I send her in?"

"Um, yeah - yes thank you Peter. Send her in."

He put the phone down hurriedly and ran his hand through his hair again. What did she want? Was it something he did at that clean energy do last week? Or was she still mad about that meeting? Cause God damn that train wreck was not entirely his fault.

He had to pull himself together. Why was he stressing? He shouldn't be. This was his company. His building. His office. This was his territory. She should be stressing. The door opened, and Peter ushered her inside. She didn't look stressed. She looked edible. She was the epitome of gracious as she thanked Peter with a graceful inclination of her head, and sashayed up to where he stood behind his desk.

"Miss Abel," he didn't offer his hand to shake. "Please, take a seat."

"Thank you," she tucked her legs at the ankles and folded her hands on top of the orange bag sitting on her lap. "Mr Holt, I'm here in regards to our meeting last Saturday. You should know that my business meetings do not usually deteriorate like that...or at all, actually. Perhaps you would like another attempt? Your business is one we would not like to lose, and I know you will find no better service that at my company."

He laughed. Was this her version of an apology? Because really, he replayed the entire meeting back and forth again and again...and he decided he didn't deserve the censure he received.

"Excuse me? What are you laughing at Mr Holt?"

"You. And your shitty apology."

"I beg your pardon! And just why do you think I should apologise to you? I'm not the one who undermined your leadership and belittled your fr-staff!"

"Introspection clearly isn't your strong point then, Miss Abel. Fine, I'll waive the apology. Isn't that generous of me. But I'm afraid if you want my business, you should take me out to lunch. I find a nice meal is always excellent for smoothing ruffled feathers."

Georgie spluttered indignantly. "I don't think so. I make a point of conducting business in the office only."

"Really? You're missing out then," he checked his watch with a flourish. "You're in luck Miss Abel. I'm free for lunch right now. Shall we?"

"I don't think so," she repeated.

"Well then I think we're at a stalemate. What a shame."

She looked at the ceiling and pursed her lips. That, in combination with her tapping foot, was as close to a scream of irritation as he would get; and boy did he love seeing it. "Okay Mr Holt," she looked back at him impassively. "How about this. You come back to our offices, at a time of your convenience, and we make all the final arrangements and sign off on the deal. Then, in celebration, I will make an exception and shout you to a lunch."

He smirked at her. "Nice try Miss Abel. You have a reputation as quite the negotiator, but unfortunately I'm not that easy. Firstly, you're making assumptions that I'll sign your agreement. And if I sign, you'll take me to dinner. Five courses. At a restaurant of my choosing."