Chapter 7 Office Showdown

Harper

The atmosphere in Rowan's office thickened with tension. I remained perfectly still, observing the silent battle of wills between the two titans of industry. Neither man seemed willing to back down, their postures rigid with barely contained hostility.

Rowan's expression hardened as he walked back to his desk with measured steps. "Lawson, Harper and I are discussing collaboration details. Barging in like this—isn't that a breach of business ethics?"

Beckett's smile remained dazzlingly bright, unfazed by Rowan's cold demeanor. "I merely wanted to confirm whether Dr. Sinclair has accepted Whitaker's collaboration proposal?" His gaze shifted to me, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

I shook my head slightly. "We're discussing terms, but haven't reached any agreement."

Beckett's eyebrows lifted in satisfaction. "Then, dear doctor, you still maintain your right to choose, don't you?"

Rowan's face darkened dangerously. His knuckles rapped against the polished surface of his desk—a nervous habit I recognized from our marriage. "Harper, don't forget our history."

I couldn't help the sardonic smile that curved my lips. "Business decisions shouldn't be influenced by personal matters, Mr. Whitaker. Isn't that what you just taught me?"

Rowan's mouth opened, then closed again. For once, the great Rowan Whitaker was speechless. A small, petty part of me savored the moment.

Beckett reached into his briefcase and extracted an elegantly bound folder, offering it to me with a flourish. "This is Lawson Group's collaboration proposal. I think you'll find it interesting."

I accepted the document, leafing through the meticulously prepared pages. The terms were comprehensive, covering everything from royalty percentages to development timelines. When I reached the compensation section, I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows. "The conditions are indeed quite generous."

Rowan stood, closing the distance between us with swift strides. His proximity sent an unwelcome current of awareness through me. "Harper, I hope you'll consider carefully. Whitaker's comprehensive strength ranks first in America. We can provide the largest market for your technology."

I met his gaze directly, refusing to be intimidated. "What about the conditions I proposed earlier?"

I watched as his fist clenched, jaw tightening with tension. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but that's impossible."

Beckett observed our interaction with keen interest, his eyes flickering between us. I could almost see the questions forming in his mind, curious about the unspoken history between Rowan and me.

I fell into momentary contemplation, my fingers tapping lightly against the edge of Beckett's folder. The office lapsed into silence, both men watching me intently. I could feel the weight of their expectations, each hoping I would choose their offer.

Suddenly, I looked up, a glimmer of calculation in my eyes. "Gentlemen, I have a proposal."

Both men turned questioning gazes toward me.

I smiled, feeling the subtle shift of power in the room. "Intellect will be hosting a private auction for the first-generation quantum chip in three days."

Rowan's brow furrowed. "What does this have to do with our collaboration?"

"It's simple," I explained. "Whoever succeeds in acquiring that chip at the auction demonstrates superior financial capability. My company will prioritize collaboration with the winner."

Beckett laughed, clapping his hands in delight. "Brilliant suggestion! A fair competition—I like it."

Rowan considered this silently, his analytical mind clearly weighing the implications. After a moment, he nodded. "I accept this challenge."

I stood gracefully, smoothing my suit. "Then, gentlemen, I look forward to seeing you at the auction."

Rowan stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "Now that business is concluded, why not stay for lunch? We have many... personal matters to discuss."

Before I could respond, Beckett interjected smoothly, "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I've already reserved a table at Le Bernardin, specifically inviting Dr. Sinclair to join me."

I turned to Beckett with a polite smile. "That's very thoughtful, Mr. Lawson."

Rowan's expression hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous timbre. "Harper, our conversation isn't finished."

Just then, Ethan burst through the door, his expression frantic and his normally immaculate appearance disheveled. "Mr. Whitaker, I apologize for the interruption, but we have an emergency! The corporate website has just been hacked!"

Rowan's head snapped up. "What? What happened?"

Ethan's forehead glistened with sweat. "The entire homepage has been replaced with... a cartoon pig head. It says 'Rowan Whitaker is a pig.' The IT department is working on it, but the hacker's methods are extremely sophisticated."

Rowan's face darkened as he strode to his computer. He logged into the website, and immediately an ugly pig with tusks appeared on the screen, accompanied by colorful text proclaiming "Whitaker Piggy Group Welcomes You." Above the pig's head was written "CEO Rowan = Pig Boss."

I caught Beckett's expression as he viewed the screen—he was desperately trying to suppress his laughter, ultimately failing as a chuckle escaped his lips.

Rowan slammed his fist against the desk. "Find out who did this immediately! Notify the security department. I want to know how this hacker breached our firewall!"

I elegantly picked up my purse, my tone light. "It seems Mr. Whitaker has made quite a few enemies. I'm afraid you're too busy for lunch now."

Beckett adopted an exaggeratedly sympathetic expression. "What a misfortune, pig—I mean, Mr. Whitaker."

Rowan glared at Beckett, about to speak when the pig head on the computer suddenly began rotating in an animated loop, emitting adorable "oink oink" sounds.

I bit my lip to contain my amusement. "Good luck, Mr. Whitaker. Mr. Lawson and I will take our leave."

Beckett and I departed with dignified steps, while behind us, Rowan's furious voice echoed: "Ethan! Contact all technical personnel immediately! I want this website restored to normal within half an hour!"

In the hallway, we heard Rowan's continued outburst, and Beckett and I exchanged glances, our smiles deepening.

Outside Whitaker Tower, sunlight bathed us in warmth, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. As we approached the waiting cars, my phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, a genuine smile spread across my face.

Vivien's energetic voice came through. "Harper! I just found out you're back in the country! I need to see you, right now!"

I happily agreed to Vivien's request, giving her my hotel address. Hanging up, I turned to Beckett with an apologetic expression. "Mr. Lawson, I'm terribly sorry, but my friend wants to see me."

Beckett nodded graciously. "Of course. Friendship trumps business. I hope we can reschedule."

"Thank you for understanding," I said, genuinely grateful. "And thank you for your 'rescue' back there."

Beckett's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Making Rowan Whitaker uncomfortable is my pleasure."

I stepped into the car where Isla waited, waving goodbye to Beckett as we pulled away. Despite the confrontation with Rowan, I felt a small sense of victory. The game was just beginning, and for once, I held some of the cards.