First days used to excite me. New staff, new mergers, new ventures. But today, I found myself unsettled. Not because something was wrong at work, but because Catherine Ashton had reemerged, and she was flying to Toronto tonight.
I leaned over my desk, reviewing the guest list for the Williams Foundation’s charity brunch. Mostly investors and philanthropic aristocrats, the same faces I’d been shaking hands with for the last decade. It was supposed to be a formality. Show face. Smile. Thank donors. But now it was different.
Now she was coming into the picture.
I hadn’t told my grandfather she agreed to meet again. I hadn’t told him about her dinner in Vegas that happened to be with Barry, not me. He will probably kill me because I sent Barry to act as me and lie to Catherine, but he needs to understand that I really don’t have time to play around. Time is of the essence, time is money.
Besides, didn't he say that Catherine still wants to focus on herself? We are both still young and maybe we’re currently on the peak of our careers. I don’t know why our grandparents wanted us together so badly, I’m sure that Tim knows that I’m a workaholic, perfectionist and somewhat a clean freak.
Not to mention that Catherine Ashton’s life has been so private that not a single photo of her has been leaked to the press. The only picture that the public has are her baby photos. She’s cute, especially with the signature Ashton honey blonde hair.
I mean, what do I expect from Ashton's favorite granddaughter.
I looked over the Toronto office updates next. The transition to LA had been slow-rolling for a year now, and with Joseph’s ties to the Ashton family deepening, we were finally nearing the execution phase.
Truth be told, the LA move wasn’t just about strategy anymore. It was about proximity. Not that I’d admit that. My grandfather thought he was clever. Set the pieces, move the board. Catherine and I were the final play. But I wasn’t convinced the game was going to unfold the way he planned.
***
By late afternoon, I’d wrapped up meetings and had the charity plans finalized. The brunch was set in the estate gardens, polished and serene, the utter opposite of what I expected. Usually they do this indoors, but this is much more traditional, more intimate and more dangerous in a way.
Because now I’d have to face her not as a stranger or a business partner, but as a prospective husband who happened to fool her.
That word felt surreal.
Marriage.
Not once in my life had I imagined it being arranged. Negotiated. And yet, here I was, waiting for a woman I barely knew to fly across the country and walk into my world. The difference this time? She wasn’t just a name on a file. She’s going to be my future wife if I don’t mess it up.
I sent a message to my new secretary who is still an amateur.
Kyle: Clear my schedule for the next two days. I also want Gerry to make sure that none of the info leaks to the press. No photos, no articles about my private life.
New Secretary 13: Yes, Mr. Denver. I will make sure of that.
Today is going to be fun.
