Page 16 of Miss Manage

She spotted me and gestured. “Charles, this is Gabriel, the COO of Arrow. Gabriel, this is Charles, our driver for the evening.”

Charles gave me a polite nod and took my suitcase to put in the trunk since I hadn’t had time to check into the hotel yet. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

I slid into the back of the slick Mercedes, watching as she did the same on the other side, trying not to dwell on how easily she seemed to charm people. “I take it Charles has driven you before?”

Without looking up from her phone, she answered, “No, we met five minutes ago.”

I frowned. “Being nice to everyone is just your thing?”

Her gaze lifted, steady and unruffled. “Nice? No. Kind, yes, absolutely.”

“What’s the difference?” I didn’t bother to hide the skepticism in my voice.

“Being nice is asking someone else to validate you. Kindness is an action.”

“I don’t get it.”

She sighed but expanded. “Nice is surface level, like smiling so people will call you pleasant, agreeing so no one thinks you’re difficult. Nice depends on someone else’s approval. Kindness is an action. It’s what you do whether or not anyone notices, or regardless of if it’s appreciated. Sometimes it’s taking the extra five minutes to make sure someone feels seen. And sometimes it’s giving difficult feedback. That can be a kindness because in the long run, it’s what someone needs to hear to improve. That’s the difference between nice and kind.”

I considered her words, my brow furrowed. “Kindness can still be perceived as weakness.”

She chuckled softly, the sound maddening in its confidence. “I’m aware of the perception. But molding myself into what other people think I should be? That would be the definition of weakness. Kindness and rigor can coexist. In fact, I’d argue the best leaders can effectively balance both.”

My head shook before I realized I was doing so. “I really don’t understand you.”

Her smile widened, this time directed at me, and it hit like a shot to the solar plexus. “Luckily for both of us, I don’t need you to.”

And damn if I didn’t grin back, despite myself.

We arrived at the restaurant where we were meeting the client in twenty minutes. The place exuded old-world elegance, as many did in London, with its dark wood paneling, white tablecloths, and golden light from chandeliers overhead.

A man in a tailored charcoal suit was already waiting in the foyer when we arrived. He lit up like a kid at Christmas the moment Charlotte walked through the door. His sharp features softened as he leaned in to kiss her cheeks, one, then the other. Meanwhile, his cologne was as heavy as the gold chain around his neck.

“Charlotte.” In a thick French accent, his voice was velvet but carried an edge of practiced charm. “You grow lovelier each time I see you.”

She smiled, but unlike the warm expression she’d given our driver earlier, this one didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nice to see you too, Jean Luc. This is Gabriel Chambers, our new chief operating officer. Gabriel, this is Jean Luc, the chief financial officer of Weber Entertainment.”

His handshake was firm, his eyes sharp, assessing me in an instant. “Yes, I’ve heard of you. Your father owns Chambers Technology, yes?”

The question was a familiar one. “Yes, he does.” Most people let the answer suffice. But Jean Luc wasn’t most people.

“I take it you don’t get along?” His brows lifted as if he were testing a theory, not actually asking.

“On the contrary, we’re very close, and I respect him deeply.” My tone was calm but practiced. “His company focuses more on services, while Juniper, now Arrow, specializes in infrastructure. Different lanes within the same industry.”

It was my standard line and was true enough, but it left out the reality of years of wanting to contribute to my father’s empire, only to have my creative ideas dismissed. The actual reasons cut deeper than I cared to share with a man like Jean Luc.

He shrugged, clearly unconcerned whether my answer was genuine. The jab had been thrown because he could, not because he cared about the answer. “Working with family is overrated. Speaking of which…” He turned, his smile broadening. “My uncle has arrived.”

William Laurent, CEO of Weber Entertainment for three decades, entered with the steady presence of a man accustomed to commanding a room. His reputation as a bulldog preceded him. He was unyielding in business, feared by competitors. And yet, the moment he saw Charlotte, his entire expression softened.

“Charlotte, my dear,” William greeted warmly, his French accent more tempered than Jean Luc’s. He kissed both her cheeks. “I appreciate you coming all the way to London to see me.”

“It’s a pleasure, William.” She introduced me politely before the maître d’ led us to a corner table draped in linen.

By instinct, I reached for Charlotte’s chair, only to have her hand press lightly over mine. Through a clenched smile, she whispered, “Please don’t. I have it.”

Fuck. I’d done it out of habit. It was a simple gesture to pull out her chair, meant as courtesy and one I’d perform for any woman in my family, including my daughter. I hadn’t been thinking of Charlotte as the one in charge at this table.

“How is Simone?” Charlotte asked William, her tone warmer now.

“She’s doing well. She told me to give you her best.” William’s eyes crinkled with affection. “And how is your son, Austin? Has he decided which college he’ll play ball for?”

Charlotte’s smile this time was genuine. “He’s great, thank you. Next year will be the big round of campus tours, but for now he’s focused on his short list and keeping his grades up while balancing baseball.”

I filed away the nugget of information, itching to discover more about her personal life.

Ten minutes later, the conversation flowed with Jean Luc chuckling at something Charlotte said and William leaning forward, utterly charmed. The realization hit me like a stone:

I was the third wheel.