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Making it Personal
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Making it Personal
Island Tales Press
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About the author
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Cover Designer: Meredith Russell
Copyright © 2013 by K.C. Wells
All Rights Reserved
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Blake Davis unlocked the main glass door which led into the reception of Trinity Publishing. As usual, he was the first to arrive, although he knew that Ed Fellows wouldn’t be too far behind him: his second-in-command would need his customary caffeine jolt to kick-start his day. He went into the small but well-equipped kitchen serving his floor and mechanically set up the two coffee pots that would be required by his staff. Another grin: how many CEOs did this every morning?
With the machines gurgling and the wonderful aroma starting to filter through the kitchen, Blake went to his office. The empty office next door reminded Blake of his lack of a PA, which he hoped to have resolved within the next day. He entered his private washroom and hung his overcoat on a hanger, pausing in front of the mirror.
Will today be the day?
No sooner had that thought crossed Blake’s mind, another was hot on its heels.
Just give it up, for God’s sake. You know he’ll never do it. He’d have to be at death’s door first.
Blake stared resignedly at his reflection in the floor length mirror, his fingers automatically manipulating the dark blue silk tie until it was perfect. He stepped back, casting a critical eye at the overall effect, trying to ignore the thought that had filtered through his brain with annoying regularity during the past two years.
His navy pinstripe suit fit his contours perfectly, the pale blue of his shirt a good color against the pearly skin at the base of his throat. The figure in the mirror was lean, slim-hipped, narrow at the waist, flaring nicely to a broad chest. Short, black hair framed a clear, creamy complexion, which brought out the startling Mediterranean blue of Blake’s eyes, so blue in fact people often thought mistakenly that he wore contacts.
One last look in the mirror. Funny: he didn’t feel any older. Those azure eyes stared back at him and Blake smiled tiredly.
“Happy 30th Birthday,” he whispered to his reflection. His ritual thought prodded him once more, prompting a brief swell of hope within his chest, but cynicism won out.
Not a fucking chance.
He puffed out a sigh of sheer exasperation and exited the bathroom. Tossing his morning newspaper onto the sofa by the window, Blake gazed down at London. It was only 7.30a.m., but already the streets below were steadily filling as people went about the business of getting to work in the cold, still October morning. He leaned on the glass, his eyes unseeing for a moment, his thoughts on his own situation.
“Christ, being thirty ain’t that bad, is it, boss? Thinking of jumpin’ already?”
Blake gave a slight start as Ed’s words broke through his internal meanderings. He smiled at his office manager who was standing in the doorway, his leather biker’s jacket slung over his shoulder.
“Cheeky sod.” He gestured with his head towards the kitchen. “Coffee’s on.”
Ed gave a moan. “’Ave I told ya recently that I love ya, boss?”
Blake laughed. “Just get in that kitchen and pour us both a mug, then get your arse back here. I’ll go through the plans for today.”
Ed briskly nodded and departed in search of his caffeine fix. Blake shook his head, smiling. He loved the effortless banter that always occurred between him and Ed. There was no formality: Blake might well be the CEO, but he interacted with all his staff in the same easy-going manner. Not that his father approved, of course, but then he’d run the company along much more regimented lines.
Just then, his eyes alighted on the portrait behind