Chapter TWO (Plot)

Steve Damon

The wheels of fate could be relentless, but sometimes, life played out in a more satisfying direction—one that, today, seemed to be moving in Steve’s favor. He chuckled to himself, recalling the shock on Clarissa’s face, her wide, expressive eyes showing a flicker of annoyance when she realized who he was. Just seeing her reaction brought a spark of satisfaction, and he found himself unable to dismiss the thought. Clarissa Morgan had crossed his path in a way he never anticipated, and now, he’d maneuvered her into his web. His thoughts drifted, focused yet distant, as he absentmindedly brushed a fingertip across his lower lip. The faint aroma of fresh flowers from the office corner permeated the space, grounding him. But Steve was far from noticing; he was focused on a more complicated and enticing puzzle than the mere aesthetics of his office.

Without breaking his line of thought, he leaned forward and pressed the intercom button, summoning his assistant.

The click of heels announced Gracie’s arrival. She stepped in, a picture of calm professionalism, but Steve wasted no time with pleasantries.

“What’s Clarissa Morgan’s designation?” he asked with the same sharpness he reserved for matters that tested his patience. Every part of him simmered with annoyance, especially when he recalled her fiery defiance in the conference room that morning.

Gracie glanced at him, slightly taken aback by the abruptness of his question, but she replied smoothly, “Graduate trainee.”

“Which department?”

“Information Technology,” she replied.

“And where is she posted?”

Gracie looked at him carefully. “She requested to be stationed at the head office for personal reasons. However, we currently have no openings there, so she’s scheduled to join our Westchase office. The commute would be about thirty minutes by metro.”

“Has her deployment letter been sent out?” he asked, his brow still furrowed, thoughts playing over his lips in a suppressed smirk.

“No, sir,” she replied, her poise intact despite his cold stare.

“Good. I want you to find a position for her here at the head office.” Steve’s voice left no room for argument, but Gracie, who’d worked with him long enough to understand his moods, could not hide her surprise.

Steve, aware of her shock, was unmoved, choosing not to clarify his intentions. He conveyed everything through his stare, squashing any inquiry that might rise to Gracie’s mind. “Let’s make her Mrs. Dandridge’s assistant,” he added.

Gracie blinked. “But Clarissa studied Computer Science and Engineering, and Mrs. Dandridge is rather possessive of her role as your secretary. I’m not sure she would welcome the idea of an assistant, especially not one with a different skill set.”

“Just do it, Gracie,” he said. “She’ll be working on a computer all the same. And leave Mrs. Dandridge to me.”

Gracie’s face barely registered her frustration as she struggled to keep her thoughts to herself. “Mr. Damon, I hope this arrangement won’t drive away a promising employee. Ms. Morgan may see this as a demotion, especially given her qualifications.”

“It’s not a demotion,” he said, a slight edge in his voice. “Her salary and benefits will remain intact. And working here at the head office aligns with her original request. She can either accept the offer or work at Westchase, but it’ll be her decision.”

Gracie nodded, though Steve sensed her reluctance. He could see her calculating thoughts, but he wasn’t about to humor them. He leaned back as she exited, quietly pleased with his scheme.

For reasons he couldn't quite place, Clarissa Morgan had piqued his interest. Part of him hoped she’d refuse the new position, giving him an excuse to make an example of her. But if she accepted, well… that would be interesting in its own right. It was high time he got a look behind that poised exterior and understood what made her tick.

Just then, his phone rang. Dean Campbell’s face flashed on the screen, pulling him from his musings.

“Well, if it isn’t the newlywed!” Steve greeted him with a rare, genuine smile.

“Hey, are you still alive over there?” Dean’s teasing voice sounded through the phone, his laughter echoing through the line.

“You rascal! Shouldn’t you be busy honeymooning?” Steve countered.

“I am! Just wanted to check in on my friend. Wanted to make sure you’re surviving without me holding your hand.”

“Barely,” Steve replied, chuckling. He and Dean had been through too much together for him to deny how much he valued the guy. There weren’t many people who could pry a smile out of him, but Dean was an exception.

Laura, Dean’s wife, popped into the frame, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck. “Hey, Steve!” she called with a bright smile. “Don’t let him fool you; I’m still figuring out how to deal with him myself.”

Steve smirked. “Good luck with that. Hope you’ve got a big enough ego to match his.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, we’ll leave you to it. Try not to scare off too many new recruits without me around.”

The screen went blank, leaving Steve chuckling. Dean and Laura’s love was so open, so unapologetic—it made him wonder if maybe, someday, he might believe in that sort of devotion. If anyone could make him consider it, it would be those two, whose connection had survived since high school and through everything life threw at them. Dean had seen him through the worst of his mistakes and still stood by him, a loyalty Steve would always respect.

A tap on the door brought him back to the present. Mrs. Dandridge stepped in, holding an envelope. He raised an eyebrow at the familiar sight.

“Another one?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, holding the envelope toward him. “This one’s got a note on the outside,” she added, her expression unreadable.

Curiosity sparked, and Steve took the envelope. The message read: “If you’re really the good, kind, and loving brother that my mom talks about, please read this letter.”

For a moment, Steve’s heart gave a small, uncomfortable pang. This was the eleventh letter from his nephew—the nephew he’d never met, thanks to his sister’s decision to marry Theo Cameron, a man he considered a ruthless opportunist. While the wounds of her betrayal were still fresh, it was hard not to feel a twinge of guilt.

Dandridge’s soft, steady eyes watched him, her gaze almost challenging him to ignore the plea of an innocent child.

“Alright,” he said with a resigned sigh. “Hand it over.”

He placed the letter on his desk, steeling himself to open it later. Then, he motioned for Dandridge to leave, her satisfied smile giving him a bit of hope that maybe he was still human.

Clarissa Morgan

Clarissa sat across from Ms. Gracie, her stomach twisting in knots. This wasn’t how her career was supposed to start. One slip of anger, one moment of standing up for herself, and now everything hung in the balance.

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to consider,” Gracie said, her voice calm. “If it were up to me, I would handle this differently. But as it stands, my hands are tied. For what it’s worth, you’re a valuable trainee with immense potential. Weigh your options carefully.”

Clarissa thanked her and left, barely holding back a sigh of defeat. She didn’t want to go home just yet, but her thoughts weighed heavy. Without thinking, she took the stairs down, trying to process her options. Westchase was not ideal, but it was a job. On the other hand, taking the so-called assistant role felt like a compromise of her qualifications. But turning it down would mean uprooting her life—again.

When she finally got home, she walked softly, not wanting to disturb her mother, Denise, who’d been sick on and off. She heard voices coming from her mother’s room and entered quietly. Veronica, their neighbor, sat beside her mother, knitting and chatting warmly.

“Hey, Mom, Veronica,” Clarissa greeted, surprised to see her mother looking so much better.

“Clarissa! How was work?” Her mother’s face lit up, but the quiet concern in her eyes didn’t escape her notice.

Clarissa forced a smile. “It was alright, Mom. Veronica, thank you so much for keeping her company.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Veronica replied with a kind smile. “You two have been a blessing since you moved in. I love the company!”

They talked and laughed, Veronica regaling them with stories about her late husband Joe, and how much he’d meant to her. She explained how she’d recently welcomed her niece into her home, and how Clarissa might find a friend in her.

As Veronica left, Clarissa sat next to her mother, feeling the weight of her worries resurface.

“Clarissa, is everything alright?” Denise’s gentle voice was filled with concern.

Clarissa hesitated, then finally explained the situation, including the incident with her boss’s taillight.

Her mother gave her a stern, yet amused, look. “I can’t believe you let that man get under your skin enough to damage his car.”

Clarissa laughed softly. “He’s unbelievable, Mom. But how was I supposed to know he was my new boss?”

“Maybe he’s testing you,” her mother mused. “You know, sometimes life has a strange way of placing people in our path. Don’t let a single incident derail your dreams, Clarissa. Stay strong.”

Clarissa leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder, feeling comforted by the warmth of her support. Denise’s calm wisdom softened the anger that still simmered under the surface.

Whatever lay ahead, Clarissa knew she’d find a way through it. This was just another challenge, one she intended to conquer—her way.