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briskly. Chairs were pushed back and one by one his team filed out of the conference room, until only he and Ed remained. Ed was staring at him, deep in thought. “Something wrong, Ed?”

Ed hesitated for a second, and then shook his head.

Blake arched his brows. “Come on, you clearly have something on your mind.”

Ed lowered his gaze to the table for a second or two, and then met Blake’s inquisitive look. He took a deep breath, obviously uncomfortable. Blake was immediately intrigued.

“’As... ’as yer Dad given ya any indication as to when he’ll finally ’and the reins over to ya?” Blake’s eyebrows shot up. Ed smiled nervously. “It’s just that... we’ve all been talkin’, Blake, and to be honest... this whole situation is just total crap as far as we’re concerned.”

Blake sat back in his chair, slowly running his fingers along the polished surface, not meeting Ed’s gaze. Finally he looked up.

“Close the door,” he said softly. Ed hurriedly complied and then sat down facing Blake, his expression now anxious.

Blake sighed. “What’s this about?” he asked quietly but firmly.

Ed groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anythin’.” He exhaled unsteadily. “Blake, since you took over when yer dad had the ’eart attack, you’ve turned this company around. You’ve completely changed the way Trinity does business, and the profits speak for themselves. You’re a great boss to work for, yer staff thinks the sun shines out of your arse,”—Blake chuckled—“and yet as far as everyone out there knows,” he said, nodding towards the window, “all that success is down to Justin Davis. They still think he’s in charge, they all think he’s achieved bleedin’ miracles with the company.... ” Ed’s voice wavered slightly with indignation.

“So you want to know why I’m running the company, but he’s getting all the plaudits, is that it?”

Ed nodded. “I’m sorry, Blake, but this stinks! You’ve worked wonders with this company, but everyone thinks you’re the CEO.”

“I am the CEO!” Blake retorted, astonished.

“No, you’re not!” Ed exclaimed, cheeks heating up. “Come on, boss, Justin gave you the company six years ago. Said he was stepping down, time to give the younger generation a chance, an’ all that shit.” Blake’s mouth dropped open at this unusual outburst from his manager. “But he didn’t tell anyone else that, did he? Fuck, he even kept his ’eart attack quiet. And he ’asn’t stepped down. He still waltzes in here, checking up on ya, querying every fuckin’ move ya make… ” Ed inhaled, visibly trying to calm himself. “Blake, why is he doin’ this?”

Blake contemplated his hands on the table, his fingers laced together.

“I think at first he was afraid,” he said at last. “Afraid of what the public would say if they found out that the company was being run by someone just out of college, the ink barely dry on his business and marketing degree.”

“That’s what we all thought, too,” Ed admitted. “But what’s his excuse now? Blake, you’re thirty today. Isn’t it time he acknowledged your achievements with the company? I mean, how could ya just sit there last year when he won the Enterprise of the Year award? On the back of all your ’ard work?”

Blake stared at Ed. “So what should I have done? Gone to the awards ceremony and told the world they’d given it to the wrong man? And what would that have done to Dad? He’d have been humiliated.” He shook his head. “No, I have to trust that one day he’s going to do the right thing. And yeah, I’d kind of hoped today would be that day.”

Ed was looking at him with such an expression of sympathy that Blake was touched. He gave his manager what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“But until that day arrives, it’s business as usual, all right? Which means I have a company to run, and sitting here gassing with you won’t achieve that.” He got to his feet, walked over to Ed and patted him fondly on the shoulder. “So let’s get to work, shall we?”

Ed’s eyes met his for a moment. Finally he nodded. “You’re the boss.”

Blake smiled again, more warmly this time. “That’s right, I am.” So come on, Dad…. Have a little faith in me, why don’t you?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Good morning, son.”

Blake groaned inwardly as his father strode into the office, no knock to announce his arrival, as usual. He watched as Justin Davis walked up to the desk and started to leaf through the papers which sat there in neat piles.

“Good morning, Dad. Can I help you with something?” Blake tried his utmost to remain calm, but his father tried his patience. He took the contracts from Justin’s hands, noting his father’s quick scowl of annoyance. Christ, the man just doesn’t learn. “I didn’t know you were coming here this morning.”

Justin wore an expression of surprise. “Of course I’m here—it’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Blake had to work hard to keep his face straight. Justin Davis had an appalling track record when it came to remembering birthdays and special occasions. Blake knew for a fact that every year it had been his father’s secretary who’d bought him a birthday card. And as for birthday presents? Books. Or book vouchers. Every year. It was a good thing Blake was a voracious reader.

“Dad, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you,” Blake began, a smile pasted on. “But I have a lot of work to do today, and not a lot of time to spend with you.”

Justin’s scowl was back. “Yes, and why do you still not have a PA? At least then, you’d be able to delegate some of the things you’re doing.” His scowl deepened. “And I’m pretty sure that team of yours could be doing more. What about that ruffian, Ed something, your so-called office manager? Can’t you delegate more work to him? Though what you see in him, I’ll never know. The man’s as rough as a

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