Cupid's Contract

Nice To Meeting You

With Veronica soothed and back in her own office, Eve was able to concentrate fully on her own panic attack. The lack of information regarding these Department Meetings, along with the fact that she was only a Temporary HR Head, and potentially being demoted any moment now, combined to create a whirlwind of emotions that leaned heavily towards hysterical.

Before she knew it, it was 9 am and she was being marched into the conference room with the rest of the Team Leaders, and there was a nicely labelled seat waiting for her. Plopping into the cushioned chair, she glanced around the room, taking in the projector that was set up and the stacks of paperwork that were littered about the surface. She had been assigned her seat in between Tourism Affairs and Hospitality, and was relieved that neither were talking. Tourism Gerald was too busy sweating profusely and Hospitality Hillary was furiously filing a chipped nail, a permanent smile etched on her face. Veronica was already seated and looking surprisingly serene. The glazed look in her eyes spoke of pharmaceutical assistance and Eve was momentarily jealous of her friend's lenient GP father.

As they waited for the Harpers to arrive Eve fidgeted with the notes she had prepared. In the ten minutes before Veronica had left and the meeting had begun, she had desperately listed all of the different aspects she brought to Human Resources. She had trained under Margaret Fletcher's watchful eye, a matronly woman who had retired only six months previously, at the tender age of 42. Mags was the opposite of warm, but she ran a tight ship and Eve had quickly fallen in line. She suspected, had her boss not fallen in love with a Navy Captain, the woman would have ran the department until artificial intelligence had rendered such careers redundant. As such, love and the high seas had finally given Eve a shot to prove her worth, and she was reluctant to give the opportunity to a Daddy's boy in ironed jeans. No matter how lovely his dimples were.

She really needed to get over her obsession with dimples. It was bordering on odd, now.

Eve was jerked from her thoughts by the sound of throats clearing, and she tugged at her skirt as the two gentlemen in question entered the room.

Eve took a moment to observe the two, as if the answer to her concerns was perhaps embroidered in their blazers. Harper Senior looked as dispassionate as ever, his black suit steamed and his cuffs immaculate.

Drew was no different. His suit was grey, and his starched shirt a pale blue unlike his father's white, but even in mannerism they were alike. They moved in unison, unbuttoning their jackets and sliding into seats with a grace that was oddly mesmerising in a man. Eve vaguely wondered if it was trained, like a ballerina, or if it was something that was inherited, like a chromosome that passes from generation to generation.

"Coffee, Eve?"

The voice startled her, and she jumped, a hiccup of noise escaping her. With all eyes on her, including a twinkling pair she had forgotten the prettiness of, she gaped up at Suzie. The petite redhead was holding out a napkin and looking expectantly at her, and it took Eve a second to realise that a squeak was not a sufficient answer.

"Oh, yes, please yes." The desperation was in her voice and Eve wished she had stuck to squeaking, as a quiet chuckle rang in her ears. Determined not to look in his direction, she smiled politely at Senior's Assistant, taking the warm mug and wincing at the bitterness of the black beverage. Suzie was a sweetheart, but there was a reason she had remained Assistant for four years. The girl couldn't remember a coffee order for her life, and if she couldn't memorise that Richard Harper liked two milks and no sugar in his coffee, (or that Eve liked four of both), then he certainly wasn't going to trust her with his business.

It certainly didn't help that she was a mouse of a girl. All sweet smiles and midi-skirts, kitten heels clacking up the stairs and down the hallway, she embodied the 60's housewife appearance, and Eve could understand why some might think that the female's head was full of knitting and baking. Suzanne certainly never gave the impression she thought of much more, in her few meetings with Eve in HR.