Page 31 of The Christmas Trap

I have to concede Lark has a point. Morale drives productivity.Productivity drives performance. And performance leads to profits and helps to retain employees.

If letting her string up a few fairy lights buys me a more motivated team, then I can live with that.

I bury myself in the next item on my schedule, but a part of me is annoyingly aware of her across the glass wall. I can’t help but glance out of the corner of my eye to see her on the phone. I bet she’s setting the entire thing into motion with admin. Decorations. Carols. Tinsel.

God help us all.

At least, I drew the line at the Christmas tree. As for Secret Santa? Not to mention, an employee Christmas party. I shudder. Not a chance.

She’ll probably make the most of it. There’s something oddly efficient about her brand of glitter-coated optimism wrapped in MBA-level precision. I don’t trust it. But I can’t ignore it either.

By five p.m., I’ve knocked out three major business expansion proposals and wrapped up a video call with our New York office.

I decided not to invite her to that. I need some space from Ms. Curvy-figure-wearing-a-skirt-that-outlines-her-luscious-arse.Bet she wore it to taunt me,I think bitterly.

My cock perks up in interest as images of her sweet tush crowd my mind. I push away from my desk in disgust.

I’d prefer to go to the gym and work out my frustrations but, sadly, there’s one more appointment left for the day. It makes sense to have Lark accompany me to this one.

I step inside her office again, and she looks up, eyes bright.

“I’m headed over to see my grandfather. I need you to come with me.”

“Your grandfather?” A cute furrow appears between her eyebrows.

Cute?I didn’t know that word existed in my vocabulary. At this rate, she’ll have me humming Christmas carols and believing in Santa Claus.

I shut the thought down and scowl at her.“Arthur Davenport, the chairman of the Davenport Group is my grandfather. I’m meeting him. And you need to be there for it.”

“When Arthur asked to meet me today, the timing clashed with the board meeting. I didn’t have any choice but to agree. It’s why I asked you to postpone the board meeting. What Arthur says takes precedence."

"Right.” She nods slowly.

I’m not apologizing that I didn’t give her enough notice about coming with me to meet Arthur.

Or that I had previously asked her to postpone the board meeting without telling her why. But I’m the boss. And what I say goes. Right?

My conscience tells me I didn’t have to be a jerk about it.

We’re in my chauffeur-driven car, going through details of the year-ending financials for most of the journey. She brought my attention to an error in the reporting which the finance team missed.

It confirms to me I made the right decision by taking her on. So far, she’s delivered on everything I’ve asked of her, and more. It’s made her go up in my esteem even more. Enough that I feel she warrants an apology for having made her take the brunt of the board’s ire at having pushed back the meeting.

She looks out the window, digesting what I said. When she looks at me again, her features are more relaxed. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”

For a few moments more, we ride in silence.

Then, she shoots me a sideways glance. “Can I ask a question?”

I nod.

"Does Arthur have veto power over the board’s decisions?" There’s curiosity in her eyes.

"No veto power. But he has the casting vote in a tie. He also holds majority voting shares."

"So, he can overrule the board?"

"He controls who sits on the board. So yeah, the old man’s power is absolute."