Beware of the Boss

Lanie took a good long gulp of her coffee, hoping that the addition of caffeine would help get her brain back to speed.

She fully expected Grayson to flip open his laptop as the car pulled way, or to make another one of his seemingly endless phone calls. But instead he turned towards her.

He cleared his throat, the sound unexpected and awkward in the quiet vehicle.

‘Thank you for the coffee,’ he said gruffly.

Lanie shot a look in his direction, not immediately sure she’d heard him correctly.

But his expression was genuine. Not quite contrite—that wouldn’t be Grayson Manning—but still...

‘Not a problem, Grayson.’

He nodded, then glanced away through his darkly tinted window at the passing traffic.

Without looking at her, he spoke again.

‘You can call me Gray.’

* * *

The beach was near deserted the following morning. Gray’s bare feet smacked rhythmically against the wet sand, his progress only occasionally punctuated with a splash when the waves stretched across his path.

Luther was well ahead of Gray, having abandoned his ball to begin enthusiastically digging a hole to China. Beyond Luther rocky fingers of coastline stretched into the ocean, and distant cranes for hoisting shipping containers formed blurry silhouettes against the sky.

It was cool—it was only July after all—and all but the most dedicated swimmers had abandoned the beach on such a dull and overcast day.

But today Gray needed to run.

Maybe he’d hoped the bite of the frigid air in his lungs would help. Or, more likely, it was that heavy ache in his legs that he craved.

Because out here he was in control. He could run as far as he wanted—further even than his body wanted to go.

And Gray liked being in control. He was used to it. Expected it.

He was in control of everything he did in both his business and his private life. He knew what he was doing and could plan with absolute confidence how things were going to work out.

By Gray’s reckoning, his father’s retirement should be no more than a blip on Manning’s radar—after all, it had been many years since Gordon Manning had spearheaded a project. For the past five years Gray had been Manning’s CEO in all but name. So Gordon’s retirement was nothing more than a formality. Nothing would change except he’d eventually have to repurpose his dad’s offices.

That was how it was supposed to be happening.

It was still how Gray thought it should have happened.

But it hadn’t.

Things had changed.

That irritating e-mail from the suddenly cautious investor was just one example. Not of many—far from it—but enough to frustrate the hell out of Gray.

An extra question here or there shouldn’t bother him. Or decisions taking longer than he felt they should. Or even that subtle, almost but not quite imperceptible shift in the atmosphere at meetings...

Even Gray had to smile at that. Since when had he been so sensitive to a change in feel?

Well, whatever it was that had changed—it had. And it did bother him. Because it wasn’t just an irritation...all these questions and atmosphere-shifts...it had the potential to impact his bottom line.

In fact it already was.

And Gray was not going to tolerate that.

In his peripheral vision, Gray noticed a lone figure walking near the dunes. As he glanced in her direction the woman waved, while her other hand firmly held an oversized floppy hat to her head.

Automatically Gray waved back, then refocussed. Deliberately he crossed from the wet sand to the dry, wanting the extra demand on his muscles the deep, soft sand forced from his body.

It turned out that, despite the many years since his dad had actually led a Manning project, for some of his clients Gordon Manning had been a very real and very important presence—somewhere behind the scenes.

The reality that it had truly been Gray they’d been working with—not Gray as Gordon’s mouthpiece—didn’t matter, and that exasperated Gray.

He deserved the trust he thought he’d already earned. He deserved his stature in Australia’s business community.

A larger wave pushed far up the beach and Gray’s bare feet splashed through foamy puddles as the water slid back into the ocean.

It also annoyed him that he hadn’t realised this reality. That he hadn’t fully understood what it meant to be Gordon Manning’s son, regardless of his own track record and years of success.

So it was frustrating and exasperating and irritating...

But it was also...

Gray’s time.

Now was his time to prove himself.

And nothing could be allowed to stand in his way.

* * *

Lanie dropped her arm as Gray disappeared into the distance. He’d waved each morning since she’d started at Manning, although he’d shown no sign of realising she was the woman he’d been so rude to on the beach that morning of the relay final. Now, knowing Gray, she doubted he ever would.

She’d considered telling him—but what would that achieve?

Lanie knew the answer to that: a blank stare, followed directly by a look that said Why are you wasting my time with this?

That was a look she was quickly becoming familiar with. At least now she didn’t take it personally. Pretty much everything not immediately related to Manning and preferably relevant right at that moment elicited exactly that look.

‘Which hotel would you like me to book for you in Adelaide?’

When he’d discovered he was not, in fact, booked into his favourite hotel, he’d booked himself in, then sent Lanie a helpful e-mail with the name of the ‘correct’ hotel for next time.

‘For that presentation tomorrow, would you like me to include the numbers from the Jameson project?’