ALPHA MEETS ALPHA

A wolf pack has a definite social structure and rules of conduct. The pack leaders are the alpha male and female. These two animals are dominant over all the other wolves in the pack.

"My apologies gentlemen, I'm not usually late."

All heads whipped around the sudden opening of the door.

Amidst the proposal of new budget campaigns by a skinny kid in a sports jacket, Owen Grady's then sleepy eyes focused on the woman he had never seen before.

Dressed in an all-white ensemble, her strong, fiery hair trailed just a bit below her shoulders. Her porcelain span of skin and swan-like neck was visible from the blazer and long skirt she was wearing.

An air of I-own-this-fucking-room hangs about her as Owen's gaze followed the stranger.

No, you don't, sweetheart. He thought in a very cocky manner.

He was so fazed by the woman's arrival that he was unaware that he stopped tapping his pen on the paper. Or the slight parting of his mouth as he watched, she strode across the room.

The echoes of her heels reverberated on the floor tiles of the conference room. An eerie sense of silence befell the room. Everybody transfixed on her as much as him.

The woman sat on the empty seat at the far end on his right. She placed her items on the table in front of her, ignorant of him or anyone in the room. She brushed her bright red hair away from her shoulders as she settled in her seat. Her phone, notepad, and pens placed neatly on her area on the table.

Who is this woman?

No one bothered to make the proper introductions for him. Owen saw her raised her perfect groomed eyebrows at the kid, whose name he had somehow forgotten.

"Connor. " The red-haired woman said quite pointedly. "Please, proceed."

Connor, who was obviously stunned all but scrambled for the papers in front of him. His pen fell to the floor, making Lowery, who was sitting next to him, cringed. When Connor bent to pick it up, he hit his head on the table with a crunchy thwack!

Owen felt sorry for the kid.

"At ease Connor. I'm sure she doesn't bite." Owen joked, trying to lighten the mood that befell on the room since her arrival.

That seemed to work because everyone in the room laughed.

Everyone except her. Owen noted, not that he's looking at her again.

The kid, Connor, smiled at him as he pushed his glasses on his nose and continued.

"Furthermore, we acquired 64% of our revenue from last month-"

Connor's prepared speech had dulled when he met the stranger's penetrating scrutiny.

She was the only woman in a roomful of powerful and influential men in the building. From his seat on his father's chair, she faced him. If she didn't notice him from her entrance, she does now.

On the other hand, all Owen could think was, fucking hell.

She was exquisite.

Her short and straight hair framed her delicate face. Owen can't see the color of her eyes from the distance, but it nailed him completely immobile to his seat. She had an upturned yet elegant nose. Her jawline, so angular and sharp that he decided he would happily cut himself with as he ran his fingers on it. She had an adorable cleft chin strutted out with every confidence. And lipstick-stained lips that Owen imagined ruining with reckless kisses.

For what seemed like an eternity, the intriguing woman looked away and focused on the bar graphs in front. She was religiously taking notes every now and then.

Anxious by some peculiar reason, Owen cleared his throat and sat straighter in his seat. He diverted his attention on the screen, the statistics was making his head spin.

If anyone told him he's gonna be sitting on the Chairman's chair a year from now, he would laugh his ass off at them. Then maybe, shove his foot right in their mouths. Not that the idea of air-conditioned rooms and spreadsheets don't interest him. But Owen Grady enjoyed his war adventures.

As a kid who was destined to be the runner of a successful empire, Owen craved the uncertainty and thrill of life. A life without owning mega billion dollar companies. A life without expensive cars or luxurious vacations, humongous villas or special treatments. Owen didn't like being chased around by golden spoons, maids and butlers. He believed that earning achievements were sweeter if pursued by perseverance. Hence, he joined the navy, the profession that was close to him by heart. And he didn't regret it for a single bit.

At such a young age, Owen knew he had a bigger house than his classmates and friends, yet didn't grow up a brat. Mrs. Grady made sure of that. He went to public school, had normal friends who never treated him differently. He always took the bus, (until his dad gave him the old school Mercedes Benz, a family heirloom, on his 16th birthday. During summer vacations he would send his resumes on any job openings his dad's companies would offer. He worked as a maintenance guy, a canteen helper, an IT guy, even as a janitor. He realized that every job was important, every job was essential in the company. Owen enjoyed every moment of it.

When he went to college, he applied and became a part-time associate in Grady Corp. His parents always emphasized and taught him the beauty of a simple life. A lesson for which he was eternally grateful.

When he told his dad that he wanted to join the navy, Senior Grady was supportive.

"I knew you'll take after your mom." Alan mused that night when he told him.

No questions asked. Alan Grady was the best dad and person he could ever meet in his life. He recalled how his dad would boast while wearing his a "Proud NAVY Dad". A shirt he had no shame in wearing to the office or whenever he would video call him. Owen could always count that his father would be there smiling proudly at him when he looked back.

Owen settled on a simple yet serene life by living outside the city. At his grandparent's farmhouse. Far from the estate and villas he grew up in. A life in total solitude.

When he was not serving his country, he would tend to his farm animals and sometimes train dogs for the military. It was bliss. Up until a week after his last tour.

Joseph Baylor, his dad's lawyer and close friend called him. Having just landed from serving his tour and losing some of his troops, Owen wasn't ready to hear another bad news. Even so, he gathered his pent-up courage, hopped in his car and drove an hour to the city.

Owen loved his old man. Even with business tycoons bowing at his feet, Alan Grady remained a generous and grounded man. So, that tumor that ended his life was such a cruel punishment for a man who lived his entire life helping others. The only Gradys. Her mom, a loving woman and notable army lieutenant succumbed to her injuries from a car crash. He was 10 years old. And he was in the car with her. There never was a day that they don't miss her. His dad told him that he loved his mom so much that he never thought of getting remarried with anyone ever again. Over the years, Owen kept a tight-knit relationship with his father. Thus, imagine his depression when they told him that Alan Grady, only had months to live.

The elder Grady didn't have the guts to tell Owen until his three-month mark. He said he doesn't want his son to see another parent die in front of his eyes. And that was enough to make the untouchable, Owen Grady cry.

On his deathbed, his hand clasped by his son. He told Owen that being his only heir and family, Owen will inherit all his properties. Including the position as CEO and Chairman of Grady Corporation. Yet, Owen still wasn't bound to take over if he doesn't want to. His father was still trying to give him the freedom Owen always sought for. Owen would be well provided for even if he didn't take the position to which he just shook his head.

"Of course I'll take over, Dad. That's your life's work. You didn't have to imply or ask. I'll take it."

His dad was silent, before he mumbled a breathless, thank you.

"Thank you kiddo. Not for, you know, taking the responsibility. I know your heart Owen and I'm with you whatever decision you will have. And I'm always gonna be proud of you. Thank you for being my son.

The only regret in Alan's life (he told Owen this) was not being able to see his future grandchildren. With whatever strength he still has, Alan smacked his son's head for this. Owen chuckled, despite being teary-eyed.

"One day you are gonna meet someone and she'll knock you down on your stubborn ass. "

The proud smile lingered on Alan's withered lips even after he finally closed his eyes.

"I need a full decent report on this proposal first thing in the morning." The redheaded woman reiterated from her seat, interrupting Owen's trip to memory lane.

"But-"

"Spare me the details of your incompetence Mr. Peters, get it done."

Wow. She is feisty.

Owen cocked at eyebrow at Lowery, who had a sneer on his face. His assistant and friend for years was slowly nodding at him as if to say "She has barely even started."

Connor turned beet red before muttering a "Yes, Miss Dearing."

Owen's eyes bulged for a bit, apprehension dawning on him.

Ah, so this is the infamous Claire Dearing. He had an instinct that she might be.

He heard enough stories about the company's "resident shrew"- a nickname given by Lowery. Her name was omnipresent.

Whether be it in the halls, elevators, meetings and colleague dinners.

Owen found himself getting more curious as Lowery provided his four-year's worth of company tête-à-tête. His dad never told him about her, ever, which peaked his curiosity even more.

Owen was yet to meet the person behind the praises of their associates and subordinates. He was curious to know the woman who turned the company into her own fucking playground. He was anxious to know the woman responsible for the company's ascending net worth for the past years. But most importantly, Owen wanted to thank the person who sent wreaths of his mom's favorite flowers for his dad's funeral.

When he took over the company two weeks after his dad's funeral, Dearing was in France. His associates told him that Alan assigned her there to arrange business misdealing. She was there for half a year by contract,so she couldn't leave for the funeral.

And now, the Claire Dearing stood before him, looking all immaculate and stirring all kinds of hell in him that he has yet to discover.

"-But, I have a few suggestions." She stood from her seat with the grace of a queen and trotted towards the screen. Owen found himself staring at her again while she pointed out business terms. She was undoubtedly a woman of style and substance.

Connor nodded with nervous enthusiasm on her every word. His earlier jitters dissipating. The men in the room conversed with her, everyone dazzled by the redhead.

"Here boss," Lowery whispered, leaning sideways to drop a black handkerchief in front of him. "You got a little drool over there." he gestured to the side of his mouth. His face twitching as he suppressed his chuckle.

Owen scowled loud enough for the whole room to hear. All heads turned to him with Dearing's eyes penetrating him the most.

A quite nervous, Connor asked from where he resumed his seat.

"You don't approve Owen?"

"No." he shook his head at him, trying to recover himself. "No. I mean everything sounds great, but... Could someone give me this year's and last year's investor relations reports? I only have the ones from-" He trailed off as Lowery handed him his tablet.

"-The first quarter of this year. Before we agree on taking any actions, I need to review that." he finished.

For starters, Owen actually knew what he's talking about. Aside from his Dad's mentorship, he studied Business before shifting to Behavioral Studies. After he graduated, he enlisted in the NAVY.

"Claire could help you." Simon Masrani, one of his dad's best friends and board of directors chipped in.

"Of course... But who's Claire now?" He still asked, although he had an idea who she might was. His gaze was deliberately avoiding her.

Lowery let out a snicker before covering it with a loud cough. The room fell silent once more. His colleagues' catching each other's nervous glances. Simon made no effort to answer his question. But Owen could see delight twinkling in his eyes, his fingers curled around his lips.

"Mr. Grady, I don't think we've met." She declared in that daunting cold, tone of hers. She was holding her chin up a bit higher and clasping her long fingers together in a very pompous manner. As if she was better than anyone in the room.

Owen finally acknowledged the Aphrodite in the room, who was standing at the end of the table across him. She was holding her chin up high, her long, pale fingers clasped in front of her. Owen allowed himself to linger once more on her figure.

"Oh, you're Claire?" He feigned surprise. "Well then, I'm Owen." His hands pointed to himself in an introductory manner.

"I know who you are Mr. Grady." Claire quipped. He could tell she was struggling not to roll her eyes.

"Please. Call me Owen."

She pursed her lips in impatience.

He raised one eyebrow at her, smiling smugly at her. "So?"

"So what, Mr. Grady?" The way her sultry voice coiled around his surname was like honey to his ears. Yet, her expression remained cold and distant and to his surprise, he was liking it.

He leaned back on his chair, pushed his chair away from the table to rest his left ankle on his right knee. "When can you hand me the report?"

"You can expect it no later than tomorrow afternoon."

"Tomorrow? " He clicked his tongue and slanted his head at her, his eyes challenging. "See, that wouldn't work for me. Miss Dearing. I would appreciate it a wee bit earlier."

Lowery kicked his foot under the table like some sort of warning.

"I'll be sure to give it to you before the day ends then, Mr. Grady," Claire exclaimed in a very polite way, that it seemed fake.

"Call me Owen, sweetheart. Mr. Grady is my granddad." A mild irritation lurking in his voice at her lack of disobedience.

"Okay." Claire hummed. Her red, red lips into a tight, horizontal line.

He pushed on, waiting for her to do what he just asked her, his arms crossed. "Great."

"Fantastic."

"Outstanding." The corner of his lips twitched with burgeoning interest.

"Is there anything else you would need Mr. Grady?

The committee held their breath as they watch the first interaction between their superiors.

They know about Owen from when he used to tag along with his dad before he shipped to some war zone for the NAVY. They were aware of the boy growing up and having both of his parent's strong set of personalities. Being stubborn and impulsive in nature. Attributes that drove their former CEO out of his mind and what they heard had kept him alive during his NAVY days.

On the other hand, they know of Claire Dearing. The Claire Dearing, who finished two majors at Harvard at the same time. The Claire Dearing, who graduated with honors. Alan Grady's trusted, second in command. The woman accountable for keeping Grady Corporation afloat. The woman you won't want to mess around with- for it'll probably be the last thing you ever will do.

Two people from opposite sides of the spectrum. The ice and the fire. Their virtues and principles sundered by being raised in different circumstances and environment. Yet, they both shared one common deadly trait. One that can either be their doom or their new source of entertainment- the penchant need to control.

They were two alphas determined to win dominance over the other.

After a moment of overwhelming silence, Owen stood up from his seat. He leaned forward, fisted his hands on the table. All the while, holding Dearing's fixed and ambiguous glare.

He smirked. "Meeting adjourned. Thank you, everybody, for your time."

Everyone eagerly gathered their things and bee-lined for the door.

"Well, while this has been very... Delightful…." Simon muttered to Owen, who was putting all his paperwork in his backpack. "Claire, won't you come here."

Owen didn't look up from his task, but did when the tip of a nude stilettos came into his view.

"I want to you to meet Alan's son… er... Formally. This is Owen." He stood between the two and patted his left hand on Owen's right shoulder.

Standing a few good inches below him -even with her heels- he can smell the wisp of her vanilla scented lotion. From up close, she looked even more ethereal. Radiant even, reminding him of such pleasant times. Like how her hair was the color of all the red, orange flowers at his mom's garden where they used to run around. Or how her eyes reminded him of the thick green foliage of the camping site he and his dad used to go fishing. Tiny specks of golden freckles on her cheeks and nose were visible despite her light make up. The curvy bow of her lips was sinful and unforgiving. Owen was certain he will have haunting dreams about those lips.

"There's no need for that Simon but it's nice to meet you." she trained her eyes on him.

"Pleasure's all mine, Claire." He replied, his calloused hand engulfed her warm dainty ones, grasping it lightly.

"And I would like to offer my late condolences."

Owen noted the softness that passed her features at the mention of his dad's latest passing. He appreciated it.

"Claire, I want you to bring him in, continue showing him the ropes."

"What?" She turned to Simon, bewilderment laced her voice. "Why can't you do it?"

"My resignation my dear Claire. In two weeks, I'm off to the world." Simon extolled; his eyes gleamed with excitement at the two.

Unlike her, Owen knew this. He knew the agreement between his dad and his godfather. On his hospital bed, his dad summoned Simon Masrani and made him promise to file a resignation. Alan persuaded him to "enjoy life, before you got too old." They weren't getting any younger, his dad added.

Claire remained silent but nodded and smiled at the kind man.

"I should be going. Hold the door would you Mr. Cruthers." Simon motioned for Lowery, who was talking to someone on the phone. His assistant was about to leave the room to achieve a better cell phone reception.

"Owen… and Claire, welcome back." Simon nodded at the two before exiting the conference room. Lowery trailed behind him and let the door close by itself.

And then there were two.

She went back to her seat to retrieve the stacks of folders handed to her all throughout the meeting. All the while typing something on her cell. Owen reached for the remote control so he could switch off the monitors. He doesn't have to do it; he was sure that the maintenance guys always clean up after every meeting. But he suddenly had an inkling to do their job for them. He fumbled with the control for the blinds for a bit, muttering a curse when the device rang a deep error sound.

"Shit!"

"You need help with that?" He looked up and noticed Claire was already just a few distances away from him. Her stance remained cool, calm, and collected.

"Nope. I got it." He pressed another button and the blinds started to go down, slowly shadowing the room from the city. "See?" He assured her and dropped the remote on the table.

She rolled her eyes at him and made her way towards the door.

"I look forward to working with you, by the way."

And with that Claire halted midway and turned squarely at him, with a look that was meant to scare him, he reckoned.

"Let me get something straight Mr. Grady." She sauntered over to him. He tried not to stare at the alluring way her hips swayed and focused on her eyes instead to distract him from, well, her. It didn't help.

"If you're one of the assholes who will try to belittle me, you better find another hobby because I am not going anywhere." Her deep forest green eyes boring into his sea greens, both un-blinking and unnerving.

Owen was slightly taken aback by the blatant accusation. Not that he didn't expect it. Being in the business for so long, she must have at least a dozen people every day belittling her just cause she's a woman. But no. Owen was, won't and never will be on that idiot list.

Claire had earned his respect- something he prided on not giving away freely- since he heard what she did. Her signature marked all the papers that his dad never got to sign. She was the glue that kept the company from falling apart.

Owen wanted to defend himself, but held his tongue. No matter how wrong, she was to think that lowly of him. Claire Dearing was becoming fascinating and he was determined to find out why. But, at the back of his mind, he knew he had to "up" his game cause she doesn't look like the type easily appeased with small talks.

"Such indict Miss Dearing. You don't know me yet." His interest and wonder with this woman growing rapidly with each passing minute.

"I don't look forward to babysitting you. But unless you know how to properly run this company, I will endure just that. I'm not letting you burn this place to the ground." She surmised in that authoritative and calm voice of hers, her eyes never leaving his.

"Fantastic. How about we discuss this over dinner?" he reiterated smoothly, smiling smugly at her once again.

She snubbed and gave him a slow once over. From his wrinkled basic white shirt, brown cargo shorts and his boat shoes.

Dearing raised her eyebrows and scoffed at him. "Have a good day Mr. Grady." She turned to leave and almost bumped with Lowery, who flattened himself against the door and immediately looked anywhere but Claire.

"Good gracious man, what the heck did you do? Don't anger it." Lowery stated once she's out of earshot.

Owen shrugged and dug deep into his pocket to retrieve his phone. "What time's my free schedule tomorrow?"

"Uh-huh. Let's see. You will have another meeting tomorrow morning with Verizon but they always talk nonsense after each meeting. But I can get you out at... 12:00 to 13:00, then you have to meet new bidders at 14:00 with Zara but her Claire's back so you'll be doing it with her instead." His assistant narrated off from the calendar on his tablet.

"Okay." he nodded before holding his phone near his mouth and spoke, "Find the nearest Tailor shop." He tucked his sunglasses on the collar of his shirt and walked past his friend. The automated response muffled as he walked back to his office.

Unbeknownst to him, Lowery remained on the spot. He took his stylus from his pocket and accessed the Notes application on his tablet. He added another numeral after Claire's name:

Claire Dearing- 11

Owen Grady- 1