Expelled and needing to transfer for his final year, Liam had known immediately where to go. It was the place that'd taken everything from him; that'd ruined him so absolutely it'd twisted his personality beyond recognition.
The place where he'd met...
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Swizzling on his seat, Liam spent his lunch doing roundabouts. Rain silently pelted his windowed wall up on the sixtieth floor. Canary Wharf crept below him, the rest of London flooding beyond that. No matter how long he'd lived here now, his gaze never failed to drink in the view.
ㅤMore than the architecture, Liam often found himself watching the little ants—the tiny cars driving around—wondering if one of them was Charlie.
ㅤHe sighed. The day's end couldn't come quick enough.
ㅤ"Rowan," his personal assistant snapped.
ㅤHe rubbed his face. "Sorry, I'm a bit tired. What were you saying?"
ㅤShe huffed before repeating herself, going into changes in his schedule for the afternoon and other interesting details he was incredibly happy to sit there like a lemon and listen to when he, instead, could've been lounging in his home with his fiancé. No, he was overjoyed and attentive.
ㅤHis phone buzzed and he picked it up, only for his spirits to sink deeper.
ㅤReally sorry, I'm working overtime after all... No date tonight x
ㅤHe whimpered like a dog.
ㅤ"Rowan," his PA, Nala, invoked again.
ㅤ"It's my lunch!"
ㅤ"You're the boss. You don't get lunch. You get your schedule read out to you instead. Unfortunately, by me."
ㅤIt wasn't the role he'd inherited. Co-directing a company as big as this, at the mere age of twenty-five, hadn't ever been the intention. No, Liam had inherited the most shares and, because his parents had been unfairly charismatic, it wasn't long until the board elected him to this position. They missed the Barrett family, and Liam had been competent enough that he hadn't gone unscathed by their insanity.
ㅤIf he'd realised this was those old geezers' plan, he would've floundered like a fish once he'd formally started working here. Perhaps then they wouldn't have hung their hopes and dreams on him.
ㅤThis one hour of lunch (that he apparently wasn't allowed to have) was the one moment he granted himself some immaturity every day.
ㅤ"Let's fast-track this. Is there anything you're here to tell me that I don't already know?"
ㅤ"Drinking after work."
ㅤHe didn't hesitate. "Invitation rejected."
ㅤ"Rowan," she sighed. "It's London culture. You have to drink with your colleagues after work sometimes. You never do."
ㅤLiam waved a dismissive hand, mildly outraged on their behalves. "Come on, Nala. They don't want their boss there."
ㅤ"Respectfully, you're clueless, because there is nothing they want more. They're ambitious and nosy. This isn't the Victorian age; drinking with your boss is expected—although, I suppose, you've never been at the bottom, have you?"
