Page 32 of Executive Privilege

"Looking good, Sadie!" One of the more outgoing Morrison execs calls out.

I make the reach, test the hold, commit to the move. The route opens up above me, and I continue climbing until I reach the top and ring the bell that signals completion.

The rappel down is smooth and controlled, and when my feet touch the ground, there's applause from the Morrison team.

"Excellent demonstration," Morrison says, beaming. "Who wants to go next?"

Several of the younger executives volunteer immediately, but I notice Nicholas hanging back, his professional composure intact but something tense in his posture.

"How about you, Nicholas?" Morrison suggests. "Ready to tackle the wall?"

"I'll observe for now," Nicholas replies smoothly. "Document the team dynamics for the campaign content."

But I can see something in his eyes that looks suspiciously like fear. Which is impossible, because Nicholas Blackwood doesn't show fear. Not about anything.

The afternoon continues with various team members attempting the climbing wall with mixed success. Morrison attempts it and fails goodheartedly and says he'll stick to golf.

Sarah makes it about three-quarters of the way before rappelling down, smiling and laughing at the thrill.

Through it all, Nicholas maintains his position as observer and documentarian, taking notes and occasionally asking questions about technique or safety protocols. Professional. Distant. Completely in control.

But I know him well enough now to recognize the signs of discomfort he's trying to hide.

As the afternoon winds down and the group starts to disperse for dinner preparation, I find myself alone with Nicholas near the climbing wall.

"Everything okay?" I ask quietly.

"Fine. Just gathering content for the campaign narrative."

"Nicholas." I step closer, lowering my voice. "You don't have to climb if you don't want to. Morrison's not going to fire us if you skip the rope course."

"I'm not concerned about Morrison's opinion."

"Then what are you concerned about?"

He's quiet for a long moment, staring up at the artificial holds with an expression I can't quite read. "Heights and I have a complicated relationship."

The admission surprises me. Nicholas Blackwood, master of the universe, afraid of heights?

"How complicated?"

"The kind where I prefer to keep my feet on solid ground."

I study his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the careful way he's not looking directly at the wall. "Bad experience?"

"You could say that."

Before I can ask for details, Morrison appears beside us with his usual enthusiastic energy.

"Nicholas! Changed your mind about giving the wall a try? We've got about an hour before dinner, perfect time for a quick climb."

"I appreciate the offer," Nicholas says, his professional charm sliding back into place, "but I think I'm more valuable documenting the team experience from the ground."

"Nonsense! Part of team building is everyone participating. How can you write about the experience if you haven't lived it?"

I can see Nicholas's discomfort increasing, though he's hiding it well. Morrison isn't being malicious—he genuinely believes everyone should participate—but he's also not picking up on the subtle signs that this isn't just preference, it's genuine anxiety.

"Actually," I say, stepping in, "Nicholas is too proud to say it, but he has a sore back, from ...a different employee event."