Page 13 of Miss Manage

My parents had done so much for me over the years I’d spent as a single dad that I doubted I’d ever be able to repay them. I was grateful for the steady bridge they provided between me and my daughter.

On the other hand, perhaps I was being dramatic. Teenagers pushed boundaries. Hadn’t my brothers and I tested our parents’ patience often enough? And the hows and whys of a pre-teen girl was uncharted territory.

“What you can do is bring the guest of honor,” my mom replied with a smile. “And leave the rest to her grandparents, who are thrilled to have the whole family together. If you haven’t noticed, we’re very happy you’ve moved home, Gabriel.”

“Happy to be home,” I returned, though the words didn’t land with as much conviction as I wished.

There’d been a freedom in living abroad. London had given me the luxury of carving out a career path without the shadow of my family name, of being in a place where no one knew me as a Chambers. Of course I’d missed my daughter, but if I was being brutally honest, living overseas had given me a reprieve from the constant friction with Samantha’s mother, from the negotiations and arguments which came with shared custody.

Now, though, I could already feel how my year away had backfired. Samantha was slipping from me, and reestablishing my place in her life was turning out to be harder than making my mark in a boardroom. And this time, there was no strategy, no negotiation, that could guarantee the outcome I wanted.

“How’s work?” my mom asked, pulling me out of my thoughts about my daughter. Unfortunately, thoughts of work landed squarely on Charlotte.

“The merger has its challenges,” I admitted.

“And the new boss? Is he less difficult to work for than your father?”

I chuckled, thinking Charlotte’s style of relentless involvement wasn’t unlike his. “I just met her, but she seems fine so far.” Smart. Beautiful. Sexy. A dangerous combination.

My mom’s brows arched. “She? Well, I sure like the sound of that. Lord knows this industry could use more diversity.”

I didn’t argue. The tech industry was historically a male-dominated field.

The next morning, I arrived at the office early, smug at the thought of being the first one there. My smugness faded fast when I spotted the light under Charlotte’s closed door. Of course she’d already beaten me in.

It was a silly thing to be competitive about, yet here I was.

While in the kitchen fixing a cup of coffee, I watched Charlotte come out of her office and talk with the custodian.

“Morning, George,” she greeted warmly, as though he were a board member instead of a man pushing a cart stacked with cleaning supplies. “How’s your new grandbaby?”

The older gentleman’s face softened into a grin, pride etched in every line as he told her about late-night feedings and how the baby had started smiling. Charlotte leaned in, listening like she was fully invested.

I kept moving, frowning to myself. Time was a luxury most executives didn’t have and, frankly, shouldn’t waste. Yet, there was something in the way George reacted to the attention, as if her interest in his life outside of the office had made a difference to him. Inefficient? Absolutely. But perhaps effective in its own way for improving the company culture.

Shaking my head, I dropped into my chair and pulled up the client portfolios. When my calendar reminder flashed for our daily meeting, I braced myself for our first encounter of the day.

Her door was open. She was sitting at her small table, poring over a stack of papers, hair falling like silk around her face, a forest-green dress skimming her frame, and heels that made my pulse jump in ways it had no place in an office.

“Morning,” I greeted, hovering at the door. “I can come back if you’re busy.”

Charlotte looked up, cool and composed, before standing. “Not at all. You’re right on time. Let’s sit at the table. And close the door, please.”

Nothing unusual about her request except the way it made the room feel smaller once I did.

I took a seat as she came around with two stapled documents. “I was reviewing John’s report on cloud services adoption, and I’ve flagged a few errors.”

My jaw tightened. I’d reviewed every line before it had gone out.

She slid a printed version across the table.

“Where?” I asked, flipping through.

“Two footnotes and this citation.”

“No one reads footnotes or citations.”

“I do,” she replied evenly.