Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places described in this narrative are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This is a short story that I have written to both vary my style of writing and introduce characters that are not based on the traditional White Female and Black Male that is common in both my own writing and across this genre. As many of my readers know, I like to explore the duality that exists inside all of us -- this story is a slightly different take on that duality.
As always, all comments and feedback are welcomed.
HF
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Outside the wall-to-floor windows lay the impressive sight of London as the metropolis stretched off into the distance. At twenty-seven floors up one of the newest corporate towers in Canary Wharf, the view from the Harrington Wolfe & Kingsley conference room was remarkable and designed to impress clients. But one of London's top-tier law firms didn't rely on a dazzling view or a spacious, well-appointed series of offices to impress their clients. The skills and insights of their professional team more than spoke for themselves -- confident, capable, expert, their case history was almost legendary, drawing clients, and fees, like moths to a flame.
Part of their reputation was built on the expertise of their team. Competition to join their ranks was fierce but the rewards were well... impressive. Today, a group of Harrington Wolfe & Kingsley solicitors were meeting with a team from a well-established fintech firm headquartered in London. Their team of senior executives arrayed down one side of the table, the team from Harrington Wolfe & Kingsley down the other.
They were of all nationalities and ethnic backgrounds, reflective of the great cosmopolitan melting pot that was London. White, Black, British Asian, male and female. However, one person sitting at the polish mahogany conference table was considerably younger than the rest of the group. An Asian woman in her twenties who seemed too young, too junior to be part of such an august group.
Nonetheless, the executives sitting across from her noticed that she carried herself with an air of confidence and self-assurance. That wasn't the only thing that the males in the group, and some of the females too, noticed about her. She was attractive with her long dark hair neatly tied up in a stylish but professional ponytail that draped down her back. Underneath the corporate attire that she wore, they could tell that she had a toned, lithe body, her skin a soft pale colour with a warm, golden highlight. But it was the eyes -- the almond shaped, dark brown eyes that gave nothing away and yet took in everything.
Olivia Mei-Ling Cheng sat upright in her chair, her posture impeccable, her blazer smooth and fitted over her slender frame. The weight of expectation sat heavy in the air of the conference room, but the young Asian woman, the daughter of wealthy immigrants from Hong Kong, had long mastered the ability to seem effortlessly composed in such high-stakes environments. She had perfected this look -- the calculated calm of a professional woman who belonged at the table, despite being a mere second-year trainee solicitor.
The team from the fintech would have been surprised to learn that such a junior associate would be included in the meetings, yet nothing, perhaps just her age, gave away her junior status. Despite this status, she was already highly regarded amongst the other solicitors at the firm. Her almost encyclopaedic knowledge of law, combined with her calm, professional attitude had already set her up on a fast track in the firm.
But it wasn't just her personal traits that helped her success so far in life. Having finished near the top of her law class at the University of Cambridge where she graduated with First-Class Honours and having Henry Wei Cheng, the well-known Chinese businessman, CEO of a luxury real estate firm in Mayfair and close friend of the lead partner for the firm, as her father hadn't hurt her chances of securing a position in the firm when she had submitted her application when she had finished university.
To all around her, she cut an attractive figure, her slim Asian body complemented by her expensive, professional attire. Underneath her blazer, the white silk of her blouse rested smoothly against her skin, tucked neatly into a tailored Dolce & Gabbana pencil skirt. Beneath the table, her legs, encased in sheer Wolford tights, were crossed elegantly at the ankle, her black Louboutin stiletto dangling precariously off her toe.
The salary of a second-year associate, even in a firm like hers, would never have given her the opportunity to dress in the way she did. Fortunately, the allowance her parents provided, gave her a measure of financial security that allowed her to both enjoy her work and her other, more enjoyable, activities. In return for the substantial allowance, her parents expected her to perform at the firm and, to her credit, she relished the challenge that law provided her.
Glancing around her, Olivia knew the table was populated with some of the sharpest legal minds in the city, all focused on the litigation strategy for one of their firm's major clients, a fintech company facing allegations of data privacy violations. They would need all the help they could get; she mused to herself as she kept her expression neutral.
Further down the table, Richard Beaumont, a senior partner and one of Olivia's mentors, was outlining potential defensive strategies to the team of fintech executives. With a gravelly voice and razor-sharp instincts, he was a legend amongst the more junior members of the firm and Olivia had found it comforting that he'd taken her under his wing.
Though he was apparently happily married to a senior civil servant with two young children, Olivia was certain that Richard would fuck her in a heartbeat if given half a chance. She never did though, despite the older White man's subtle entreaties to work back late together in the office or to grab some after work drinks, Olivia had always kept a firm boundary at work -- business and pleasure in her life had to be kept separate. Always.
"The regulators will argue that your company showed a wilful disregard for compliance," Beaumont said from down the far end of the table as he adjusted his cufflinks. "The key to our defence will be proving the breaches were the result of ambiguous guidelines rather than negligence."
The team of executives from the fintech nodded, but Olivia could see hesitation flicker across their expressions. Doubt. Uncertainty. How can we use this to our advantage she thought to herself? She ran a number of ideas quickly through her mind. Maybe there is another way...
She flicked through the case documents in front of her, fingers trailing lightly over the crisp pages. Hmm... data collection might be the angle we could use... she thought as she scanned over the notes.
"Perhaps there's another way to approach this," she said smoothly and to the surprise of many of the executives.
All eyes turned to her. Junior associate or not, when Olivia Cheng spoke, people listened at Harrington Wolfe & Kingsley. The reputation she had garnered over her last few cases had taught her colleagues she was more than a pretty face. The executives looked surprised but gave her the floor with even Richard giving her an inquisitive look, as if wondering what she had come up with.
"If we frame the data collection issues as a failure of governance rather than a compliance failure," she continued, "we can shift the focus away from financial penalties and toward internal remedial action. The ICO has a precedent for treating self-reporting companies more favourably," she said, referring to the Information Commissioner's Office. "In fact, from my observations, in the past year, over 90 per cent of self-reported breaches have resulted in no adverse regulatory action."
A silence followed her words -- not the dismissive silence of a junior speaking out of turn amongst her seniors, her betters, but a contemplative one. Nathaniel Carter, the fintech's general counsel, lifted his eyes from his notes, glancing her way as he tapped his pen on the table. For just for a second something flickered behind them. Something that Olivia caught. Approval? Interest? Desire?
