The Game Begins
Lisa found herself lingering in the break room longer than necessary, sipping a coffee that had long since gone lukewarm. The Underworld employees bustled around, mostly ignoring her now that the initial curiosity had worn off. But Lisa wasn’t paying attention to them. Her gaze kept drifting towards Carla’s office, where the factory owner had disappeared almost an hour ago.
She had that effect, Carla. A presence that demanded attention even when she wasn’t in the room.
Lisa smirked into her coffee cup. She’d met plenty of people who thought they ran the world, but Carla Connor actually did—at least in this small corner of Weatherfield. And Lisa had a sneaking suspicion that getting to know her was going to be the most interesting part of this job.
As if summoned by thought alone, Carla emerged from her office, her expression as sharp as ever. She spotted Lisa immediately, her lips twitching in what could have been amusement or irritation.
Lisa tilted her head. “Miss me?”
Carla rolled her eyes but walked over anyway, arms crossed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Lisa chuckled. “Too late.”
Carla sighed, as if she already regretted this conversation. “You got a minute?”
Lisa feigned a glance at her nonexistent watch. “For you? Always.”
Carla muttered something under her breath—probably a curse—and turned on her heel, leading Lisa back towards her office. Lisa followed, smirking at how the factory floor seemed to go quiet as they passed. There was a tension between them, thick enough that even the workers noticed.
Inside the office, Carla gestured for Lisa to sit. She didn’t. Instead, she leaned against the desk, watching as Carla closed the door behind them.
“So,” Lisa said, arms folded. “What’s on your mind?”
Carla tapped her fingers against the desk, eyeing Lisa like she was trying to decide something. Then, finally: “What would you do with a line that’s underperforming?”
Lisa arched an eyebrow. “You really asking me for advice?”
Carla smirked. “No, I just enjoy dragging you in here for a chat.”
Lisa grinned. “I wouldn’t blame you.”
Carla exhaled, shaking her head. “I swear, you’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here we are.” Lisa picked up the lace fabric from earlier, twirling it between her fingers. “It’s not the product that’s the issue, Carla. It’s the marketing. Women don’t just buy lingerie for comfort. They buy it for how it makes them feel.”
Carla leaned back against the desk, eyes narrowing. “And what do you suggest?”
Lisa met her gaze, heat simmering just beneath the surface. “Show them.”
Carla frowned. “Show them how?”
Lisa smirked, voice dropping just enough to be suggestive. “Someone has to model it.”
For the first time, Carla looked genuinely caught off guard. Lisa didn’t miss the way her gaze flickered, just for a second, before she masked it with that signature cool exterior.
This was going to be very interesting indeed.
Lisa was still thinking about that moment in Carla’s office when she made her way back onto the factory floor. The suggestion had been a risk—she knew that. But she also knew when to push and when to hold back, and the flicker in Carla’s expression had told her all she needed to know.
This was a game, one they were both playing. The question was, who was going to win?
Lisa leaned against one of the workstations, watching as the machinists stitched lace together with practiced ease. The hum of the sewing machines filled the air, the steady rhythm of production something she could appreciate. She wasn’t here to disrupt—at least, not in a way that didn’t serve a purpose.
Beth Sutherland, one of the more outspoken workers, nudged the woman beside her and nodded toward Lisa. “So, what’s the verdict then? Are we all getting the sack?”
Lisa smirked. “Not today.”
Beth feigned disappointment. “Shame. Could’ve done with a few days off.”
Lisa chuckled, but before she could respond, a voice cut through the chatter.
“Back to work, ladies. Or should I start docking pay?”
Carla. Always sharp, always in control. Lisa turned in time to see her striding toward them, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Beth rolled her eyes but returned to her sewing, and the others followed suit. Lisa, however, didn’t move. She waited as Carla came to stand beside her, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.
“I take it you’ve been snooping,” Carla murmured, voice just low enough that only Lisa could hear.
Lisa shrugged. “Observing. There’s a difference.”
Carla exhaled, shaking her head. “And? What’s your grand assessment?”
Lisa let her gaze sweep over the factory floor before turning back to Carla. “You run a tight ship, I’ll give you that. But you already knew that.”
Carla’s lips twitched, but she didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, considering Lisa with the same calculating expression she’d had since they first met. Finally, she spoke. “You think modeling the lingerie will make a difference?”
Lisa smirked. “I think confidence sells. If women see it worn in a way that makes them feel something—desirable, powerful, whatever it is they’re looking for—they’ll buy it.”
Carla’s gaze lingered on her for a beat too long. “And who exactly do you propose should model it?”
Lisa’s smirk deepened. “Depends. You volunteering?”
Carla scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
Lisa only grinned. “And yet, here we are.”
Before Carla could respond, a voice called from across the floor. “Boss! We’ve got a problem with the shipment.”
Carla sighed, rubbing her temple. “Of course we do.” She glanced at Lisa. “Don’t go causing too much trouble while I’m gone.”
Lisa chuckled. “No promises.”
Carla shot her a look before heading off, and Lisa watched her go, arms folded, amusement dancing in her eyes.