"You said it, not I."
"You can't really sell what we do if you don't understand how it works."
"And you do?" she said with direct challenge.
"Yeah, I do. Can you say the same?"
"I don't need to be able to build a computer to use one. I know how to get and use data. That's what our clients really want at the end of the day."
He let her score the point. Angry like this, her eyes flashed and her mouth drew tight. It was kind of sexy. The way they'd started out, going there wasn't on the cards—besides, she was the competition, the one he needed to vanquish. That he would, he had no doubt. She talked a good game, but she was barely out of college, and knew little about working outside the US.
She had energy and spark—he'd give her that. It showed why she was being considered, but in the end, her lack of experience would be her undoing. Rubbing his thumb down along his lower lip, he considered her.
"The Chinese don't like the direct and upfront way that Americans like to interact. It offends and confuses them, and they prefer more personal space," he said, noting that she stopped chewing and listened intently to what he said. She didn't know this stuff, but it didn't serve the company for her to screw up dealing with the clients. If she was going to screw up, it had to be where it didn't matter. "They are also not egalitarian, respect goes upwards, graciousness goes down. The boss gets treated like a boss. They will try to work out hierarchy between us and treat us accordingly, and since you look barely older than a high school girl, they will correctly assume that you are younger. This is not the place to go on a social crusade."
"I know how to deal with clients."
"You know how to deal with American clients. This is an entirely different kettle of fish." Everything he was saying was true, and if she didn't heed it, it would be to both her and the company's detriment. "Don't screw up with the client. If they feel disrespected, they will bail and you will have to answer to Mr. Holland."
"Why do you assume I would disrespect a client?"
"I don't assume you would do it on purpose." He wasn't only saying this to make her uncomfortable, she needed to be aware of herself. At this point, he could say that she should follow his lead, but he knew full well how she would take that. "If I were you, I would keep to a minimum any sharing of your brainstorming processes. That might be appreciated in LA, but it won't translate."
They were coming to the outskirts of Guangzhou and the train was slowing down. A taxi would take them to the client's office.
"Do you like Dim Sum?" he asked as she started sorting her stuff.
"Why?"
"Because I bet you dinner that's where they will take us for lunch."
"Like I'd choose to spend my evening hanging with you."
There was that bitchy edge. She needed to get over it or she was going to do herself a disservice. "If you were smart, you would."
"Well, I can hang out with you, or have ice-cream and a bath. Real tough choice. I think I am going to have to think long and hard about that one."
"Do you think you're going to get this job by being hard as nails all the time?"
"I'm not hard all the time, only when dealing with pettiness and ineptitude. And arrogance. God, I hate unwarranted arrogance." She was really hitting her stride now, clearly enjoying her little rant.
"People are staring," he pointed out calmly. "Welcome to the Pearl River Delta. Please make sure this is not where your career dies."
"As if," she said under her breath as they started walking toward the train door. The platform was just coming into view and the train was crawling to where it would stop.
5
WHAT LUKAS HAD managed to do with his grave warnings was make her extremely self-conscious about everything she said and did, and as a consequence, the client's team turned all their attention to Lukas. And once that happened, there was no going back. The sad truth was that she didn't know how to act, or what was appropriate, and Lukas did. He joked and charmed, hogging the team's attention. It was beyond frustrating, because when she tried to shake it off and act like her normal self, she just didn't get the reactions she expected.
Pulling into the Hong Kong train station again was a welcome sight. Hopefully, the damage she'd done herself could be undone. For a moment she had to question herself. He was right in that there were things she didn't know. It wasn't the end of the world, however; they were things she could pick up.
Still, though, it was a bit of a setback, which meant she had to be really impressive with her task, and she'd had some good thoughts while hearing from the client. There was definitely potential to go above and beyond what the client expected. That was how she would win this, and defeat Lukas, which was now more important than ever.
As they had returned last night, he'd looked a little more worn, which actually suited him. That hard polish came off a bit and she saw the real human underneath. They say you don't really know someone until you travel with them. In the end, they'd shared a cab back to the hotel and gone their separate ways. And yeah, they were staying at the same place.
Now, though, she had work to do. Today she was going to do a matrix to see how her brainstorming matched with some of her new ideas. Interesting and unusual things could pop out—something she could run with.
Lukas sat at his desk behind her, she could hear the tiny taps of his computer keys. They hadn't spoken since last night and there really wasn't anything to say. She certainly didn't want to hear about his interpretation of her performance yesterday, which he was probably itching to give her.
Mr. Holland appeared at the door. "How'd it go yesterday with Mr. Lee's team?"
"Good," Lukas said before she could answer. "Mr. Lee wasn't there."
"I know. He's in Hong Kong. Want to meet for dinner tonight at the Peninsula."
"That's across the bay," Lukas said.
"At seven. Wear something appropriate."
Again Lukas seemed to know something she didn't. "What's the Peninsula?"
"It's an upmarket art deco hotel. As in, dress up."
"I didn't bring any dress up gear."
"Again, this is Hong Kong. What were you thinking?" Lukas said with a snort.
Friggin, friggin, fuck, Mercy thought. She had to go shopping. It hadn't even occurred to her that they would go to some expensive hotel. There was so much she had to do and now she needed to get a dress as well. Hopefully her credit card would work here.
Grabbing her purse, she headed out of the office. There would be no lunch for her today.
To her ultimate annoyance, she had to follow Lukas as he headed to the ferry terminal, and then onto the hotel. Her suggestion that they take a taxi had just been met with disbelief. "Not in rush hour traffic," he stated as if she were slow.
After a ride on a crowded ferry, where Mercy felt overpreened in her cocktail dress, and a walk along the harbor front, they reached an absolutely gorgeous hotel. It was like stepping back in time, walking into an old Hollywood picture. Mercy couldn't help but stare at the stately columns and molded ceilings. Palms stood everywhere, and then the sweeping, elegant staircases. This was old world glamor. The restaurant they went to was a little more modern with floor to ceiling windows looking back on the Hong Kong skyline. It was breathtaking. The whole sweep of Hong Kong harbor stood across the water, lit up and showing itself off.
Their office was lost in the crowd of buildings and below, she could see the ferries darting across the water.
"Dim sum," Lukas said to her as he sat down next to Mr. Holland who was already waiting in the bar.
"I am sensing a theme," Mercy replied. Dum sum was nice, but she didn't love it. Every little parcel of food was foreign to her and she never knew what to expect when she bit into it. Not every flavor was one she understood.
Mr. Holland nodded to them, a generous drink sitting in front of him. Looking around, Mercy spotted a waiter. She could use a drink too, but they didn't have time as Mr. Lee arrived. A short, stocky man with a broad fa
ce, which broke into a smile when he saw them.
"Come, let's eat. I am starving," he said, waiting for them to join him. "The chef here is very gifted." Waving his finger to the barman, he kept going while the barman went about his creation, obviously able to read this silent communication between them, or else Mr. Lee really liked this restaurant and they knew exactly what he wanted.
Their seat was right next to the window and Mercy had to stop herself from getting lost in the view.
"How was your trip to Guangzhou?" Mr. Lee asked.
"Good," Mercy interjected before Lukas had the chance to take over this conversation too. "We covered what needs to be done and have come away with some interesting ideas to explore."
"Good, good," Mr. Lee said. "I look forward to your proposal."
"Your whiskey sour," the waiter said, putting down a pale-yellow drink with a frothy surface.
"That sounds lovely. I think I will have one too," Mercy said to the waiter. Lukas ordered a bourbon and cola.
"I remember this hotel from my childhood," Mr. Lee said. "My grandmother liked to come here for high tea."
"You grew up in Hong Kong?" Mercy asked, listening intently as Mr. Lee recalled his history.
"Hong Kong must have changed so much along the way."
Their guest of honor was very happy to talk about his experiences and observations. Mercy’s original town in Northern California didn't really change all that much. A few new housing developments, but roughly everything stayed the same. Here, though, the ground itself shifted under one's feet—buildings were torn down and redone, the social and political structure was in flux. It was hard to imagine living somewhere that changed so much—except the Peninsula Hotel, apparently.
Then the conversation moved onto Mr. Lee's business ventures in Thailand, that had nothing to do with their project, although Mr. Holland seemed very interested. Someone like Mr. Holland was always looking for the next opportunity, while Mercy was more involved with delivering on projects they already had.
The food came. It was very good. Again, Mercy had no idea what she was biting into, so the first bite was always a mix of trepidation and curiosity.
"Let's relocate to the bar," Mr. Lee suggested. "They have desserts there if anyone wants."
Rising, they moved to another area of the hotel, which was decorated in dark muted colors. It was a restaurant as well, so there were plenty of people. And there was dancing, which also looked joyously old-fashioned. Mercy didn't think she'd been in a bar that had dancing—as in, not a club, but finely dressed people gently swaying to sedate music. It was quite a treat to see. Mercy decided she really liked this place, although it wasn't really her thing.
They ordered drinks and Mercy stuck to a wine spritzer after the whiskey sour she'd already had. Alcohol and her were not always a good mix, and she was not in territory where getting drunk and loose-lipped would be a good idea. She tended to end up doing things she regretted.
"The young should dance," Mr. Lee said and Mercy froze. No, he couldn't be serious. What? Together? "Go dance. Have fun."
Fun?
Lukas stood and held his hand out to her. By the expression on his face, he didn't really look amused, but the client wanted dancing, he would dance.
"Uh, okay," Mercy said, her head still trying to determine whether this was a good idea. A little dancing in a hotel like this was perhaps expected. Except, she'd never really done any dancing, she recalled as she was being led to the floor, where elegant couples swayed in polished embraces. "Dancing's not really my thing," she said as Lukas again took her hand in his and placed his other at her back.
This was really close. She could smell his aftershave. His hand was warm around hers, and she felt the heat of the other radiating into her back. Had he always been that tall?
Mercy took a step and Lukas' hand tightened on hers. "This is only going to work if you let me lead."
"Right," she said, feeling completely out of her comfort zone, and not just because she was dancing with someone she didn't like much, in a foreign country, seemingly in a different era from the one they had stepped in from coming here.
There was nothing for it but to relax and simply let him lead. Her eyeline was on his neck, where smooth skin disappeared underneath a crisp white shirt. Was everything orderly with him? Nothing ever seemed out of place.
The scent of him was inescapable. It wasn't bad—just… "Where did you learn to dance?"
"It was a requirement in my school."
"Really?" Obviously not the kind of school she’d gone to. What kind of background did he come from, or was that simply how German schools were? Then again, his accent was quite British. "And where was that?"
"Switzerland."
"Right," Mercy said. Swiss schools, which suggested he had not attended your regular, run of the mill local school. "And that was before or after Shanghai?"
"After. The school in Shanghai was British." That explained the accent. "Dip."
"What?" Before she knew what was happening, the axis of the world shifted and she could see back to Mr. Holland and Mr. Lee, but upside down. Then slowly, she was brought up to standing. "A bit of warning would be nice."
"Not much for going with the flow, are you?"
"Perhaps I don't like surprises."
"Why, what are you afraid of?"
"I'm not afraid of anything. Perhaps I just don't like my world being turned upside down without any notice."
Were they really this close before? They weren't touching, but it was disturbingly intimate. There was a body that went with that prickly mind of his and his arm was firmly around her back. His slow, steady breaths were close to her ear. This was the kind of intimacy there were only a few explanations for, and the other option was not one she wanted to consider.
The song finally ended and his hold on her released like a sigh. Was he as pleased to be finished with this enforced intimacy as she was? Did it disturb him like it did her?
Clearing her throat, she followed him back to their table. This had been a development she had not seen coming. She now knew what it felt like to have his hands on her. There was a firmness, a confidence, that extended to this too. The worst was that she could just about imagine what it would have felt like to close that distance between them, her soft breasts pressed to his firm chest.
With a shake of her head, she tried to clear the thought from her mind. This was not the direction her mind should be going in. Lukas, though, looked completely unruffled as he sat down and stretched his long legs. Again with that complete assurance, he picked up his glass and took a sip, his attention returned to Mr. Lee and their boss.
What had just happened had simply been a thing he'd had to do, and he'd done it beautifully. Her being ruffled and disordered by a mere dance wasn't flattering. She had to be better than this.
6
MERCY GREW EVEN more distant and cold, Lukas noted. She resented how awkward and wooden she'd been while meeting the team in Guangzhou. It hadn't been a disaster, but she hadn't endeared herself either. Her distance and disapproval grew worse when one of the Chinese team members called him during the week to clarify a point they'd discussed.
Ice had practically dripped off her and she firmly kept her back to him. Whenever she needed to say something, she did it by email, which Lukas thought was childish and unnecessary. She had to be savvier than this if she was going to compete. Tanty-throwing wasn't exactly a desirable characteristic in a manager. If she kept this up she’d be running herself out of the race all on her own—which for obvious reasons suited him brilliantly.
"A minute?" Mr. Holland said, appearing at the door. "In my office."
Mercy diligently grabbed her notebook. Lukas didn't. As messy as she was, she probably needed to write things down to remember them. Together they walked in silence to Mr. Holland's office and sat down on the two chairs opposite his desk.
"Now," Mr. Holland started. "Mr. Lee is expecting to see something impressive. So how's it going?"
>
"Good," Mercy said. "We got a lot of direction from Mr. Lee's team. Honestly, though, they could be much more ambitious than they are. I think we can propose something that will impress him."
Lukas was happy to let her talk for a moment. "They do have some concerns," he finally added.
Mercy distinctly turned to him, making a show of it. "Please, do share. I've noticed that you've been conferring with the client. This is the first I've heard about them having concerns." The snippiness in her voice told him that she was trying to grind him under her heel.
"Are these material concerns?" Mr. Holland asked.
"Just issues they have with integration into legacy systems."
"It would have been nice to know about them," Mercy said pointedly. She really was trying to make him look bad.
"I will of course highlight any conflict when we see how the application-based functionality comes into light. I assume you will have something to share soon—beyond throwing ideas up on a board." Two could play this game. If she wanted to accuse him of not cooperating, she had to wear her own behavior. And her jab was successfully parried. "The clients have high expectations," he went on. "They're expecting a solid product that will work with their legacy systems."
"Integration is crucial," Mr. Holland agreed, which scored a point for Lukas. With a smile, he took a moment to savor the victory. "You two need to share both your work and your thinking."
"I am actually working on a report regarding the legacy issues, and I'll share it with the entire team when I've finished,” Lukas added.
"Good," Mr. Holland said, obviously pleased. "And I hope to see some good progress on the application side at the presentation this Friday," he said to Mercy.
"Absolutely. I think you'll be pleased." Her smile showed that she intended to impress. It also showed that she wasn't going to share a bit of it until she could take full credit. She didn't give up—he had to give her that. Had also managed to mitigate some of the damage. As a player, she wasn't to be underestimated.
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