Chapter Three

Sophia's POV 

"An injection, I think," Sam says. "Or maybe the Chinese and Russians decide that keeping the American dollars out of their territories will mean disaster for them." 

"Is that even possible?" Magrioli asks. 

"Decisions can tamper with the markets, sir," says our only black skinned investment expert, Susan. "It's been happening long before we started watching them." 

"I don't actually like it when you put it that way, Susan. You make it sound like we're taking baby steps, and would you look at here? It's completely state of the art! Which means we have not been taking baby steps." 

Susan says nothing to that. Neither does Sam. Neither do any of the other hands. 

"Just keep looking, Sam," Magrioli breaks the odd silence. "Need keen eyes on that chart. I need profits on our sales. Not losses." 

I'm about to ask him what it would matter if the GBP rises or falls. We'll just have to compromise and adjust, as we always do. But I don't say anything. I'm not the forex expert here. Just the marketer. I step back into my office. 

Take my seat. Dig up some files that contain our inventories. Mainly what we've bought and sold in the last couple of weeks. A lot of hardware that surprisingly cost far lesser than the softwares we purchase. I've brought up the issue of scooping up the bright nerds to code our own softwares, instead of spending humongous sou on someone else's. Even though it's bought from struggling programmers, it is still much to me. Why doesn't he just employ them to work for him? Why pay them off and make them look like they are not worth their creation? Ethan Reynolds remind me of the likes of Thomas Edison and James Stark. Quite egotistical people are they. 

But apart from the frittering, we have made some couple of profits. Just when we include the hardware part and create a robotic monster that can second-guess a human being. Actually, it is eighty per cent correct most of the time. 

I hear a knock on my door. Look up and see Susan leaning halfway into my office. 

"Can I help you, Susan?" 

"Not me, boss. I think you've got a programmed call that'll stop in," she looks at her watch, "Thirty seconds." 

"What?" 

"Look. The CEO's mother just sent a package with a phone call programmed to go off in less than thirty. That's all I know." 

The Reynolds name whips me to my feet and Susan and I are walking side by side, out of my office. 

"Why didn't this come to my office directly?" I ask her, nervous. 

"Because it stopped right in Mag's." 

Lawd. 

"Why do you even call him Mag?" 

"Because he shoots better than a Smith and Wesson. Good luck, charmer." 

I knock before stepping into Magrioli's office. He doesn't look up when he hears me. Just raises a hand, and jerks two fingers. "Come on in." 

There is a package on the table. A white square carton. 

"Sir?" I say, like I really need guidance here. 

"Your call is waiting for you inside," he points a finger at the carton. The way he says it, probably some procedure he is used to already. "Better pick it up. Wouldn't want to miss that if I were you, Sophia." 

I pull the cover off. Looks like a brand new phone in there. It's vibrating softly even without me holding it. 

"How do I pick this?" I ask. 

Magrioli smiles at me and leans into his swivel chair. "Just pick it up. It'll probably detect you or something." 

I pick up and take it to my ear. 

The voice on the other end is silky, and incharge. "Hello, Ms. Sophia. 

*** 

Magrioli has gone back to studying some reports on his table, so I move to a corner of his office. 

"Hello. Mrs. Reynolds?" 

"Lucky guess, I see. Is this why my son's company always know exactly what profitable project to invest in?" 

The laugh that bubbles up my throat is unexpected. "Sorry, Mrs. Reynolds. That wasn't supposed to come out." 

She delays for a moment. Within this time, my mind thinks up different reasons why the CEO's mother would want to program-call an employee. Have I done something? 

"You haven't answered my question, Sofia." 

"Uhm," I stutter. Hold the door for support. "Yes, I guess." What the hell. 

"Sorry for the unexpected call. I know I must have pulled you from one or two responsibilities over there." 

"Nor really, Mrs. Reynolds. I was just reading a book." Lovely lie. 

"Good to know. Now, as to why I have called you. I'd like you to do something very important for me, Sofia. To better put it, for the Reynolds family." 

"Okay." This sounds strange. 

"I know about your personal life but not all of it, Sophia. Pardon me for saying this but I like to have an overview of who and who works for my son." 

"That is understandable, Mrs. Reynolds," I grant, wondering if she knows anything about Magrioli's personal life. 

"Yes, it is. So, before I take this discussion further and possibly invite you over to the mansion, let me start by saying... you don't have a spouse." 

"No, I don't, Mrs. Reynolds. What is this about?" 

"This," she says, and I notice that this call hasn't recorded any static. "is about you filling the shoes of a Mrs. Sophia Reynolds." 

It's my turn to stretch the silence. What is this? I look at Magrioli to see if he has heard anything. But the bee is still busy with his notes. 

"Are you asking me to marry your son, Mrs. Reynolds?" 

"I'm choosing a wife for him," she states quickly. " 

"Is there a difference?" I ask. 

"Doesn't it clarify you?" 

"It surprises me, Mrs. Reynolds. Does your son know something about this?" 

"I thinking we'll talk this better when you come over." 

I start to argue. Like, she can't just drag me from my job because she wants to match-make. 

"I'm sending a car over to the office right now, Sophia," she says. "Stay there until it comes. Am I clear?"