Grabbing Hold (The Motorcycle Kid #1)

63. Coming Clean

The minute the plane hit the tarmac, Derek's whole life reverted to its usual busy routine. He passed through the airport with practised ease, making his way to the exit of the arrivals hall in just under three minutes.

Once outside, he let the Miami sun hit his face and warm him up before his eyes darted along the line of waiting vehicles, settling on Ross Taylor, his tall, well-built driver, and Cassie Steinbok, Derek's thirty-five year old personal assistant.

Derek strode over, tossing his bag into the backseat before sliding into the front passenger seat. He greeted them cordially.

"How was the trip, Sir?" asked Ross clinically.

"Eye-opening, and that's being vague about it. It was definitely an interesting week."

"Is your daughter okay?" asked the driver in a much softer tone.

"She's better now, Emma's a fighter," Derek said gently. "She'll be fine."

Ross, ever the professional, gave him a curt nod and a hum of acknowledgement. His boss gave a heavy sigh, before waving a hand at Cassie.

"Load me up, Cassie. What's on the agenda for today?"

Derek's assistant cleared her throat. "Yes, Sir. You have a management meeting at four this afternoon to get you up to speed on the past week's events. Tomorrow, you have an interview with Harvard Business Review, the topic's in the notes. That's at ten. After that, HR wants you present to discuss a pay rise for the Quality Control department, and Marketing wants you to okay the new ad series for the new lenses. You have a cocktail and an investors' conference this coming weekend."

Derek groaned internally, but just hummed, immediately falling into CEO mode.

"Thanks, Cassie. Do me a favour and drop all that stuff in my calendar, okay? Tell Marketing to send me an email and RSVP to the cocktail. I have to decide on whether or not I'll be attending the conference. CC Charlotte for that one."

"Yes, Sir," said Cassie diligently.

"Ross, take me home, please. Come back around two or so, let's have lunch together, okay?"

"Yes, Sir, right away. What are you hungry for?"

"I'm feeling Olive Garden."

"Takeaway or eat-in?"

"Takeaway, our usual. We'll eat at the office."

"Yes, Sir," grinned Ross, and in the backseat, Cassie smiled.

Ten minutes later, the car entered the gates of Derek's Miami residence. Ross stopped the car to scan his ID card - sure, Derek was a very relaxed CEO, but he was still a CEO. He wasn't dumb enough to believe people would always act in good faith simply because he kept his hands clean when it came to his business. He and Charlotte had built OptiTec International from the ground up, off sheer hard work, sleepless nights, persistent negotiation and dedication.

Underhandedness had never been a business tactic for them, but that didn't necessarily mean that stance applied to anyone else. Business was a nasty field. If people wanted to make business matters personal, they could. To Derek, a home security system was the least he could do to protect himself and all he'd worked for.

Ross brought the car to a stop right in front of the porch steps. Derek said his goodbyes, making a mental note to check his phone for the appointments he knew Cassie had already plugged into his calendar.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him. Derek looked down the empty, well lit corridor filled with beach prints and accents and took a deep, pensive breath.