The heat slams into me as I step down off the plane onto the private tarmac; oppressive and heavy. A far cry from the cool, crisp temperatures of the air-conditioned cabin of the corporate jet, the Washington humidity is relentless. Beads of sweat immediately form on the nape of my neck, causing my hair to curl. Desperate to escape the brutal heat of the July sun, I hastily made my way to the waiting limo.

Sliding to the far side of the vehicle, I breathe a sigh of relief at once again being in the comforts of air conditioning. Pulling out my compact, I tried to comb my fingers through my hair willing it to straighten back out. With a sigh, I clamp the compact shut; resigned to the fact that the time spent meticulously straightening my naturally wavy locks, had been in vain. Thankfully, my father had deemed it pertinent that we arrive in D.C. a day early to prepare for the upcoming contract negotiations. I would have time tomorrow morning to re-tame the wild tendrils.

The car door opened once more, letting in another blast of heat as my father and his Vice President of Defense Operations, Alistair Todwick, joined me. As the CEO of Aughton Securities and a royal descendent, Michael Sheffield was an imposing figure. A career military man, he spent a decade in the Royal Welsh Regiment before building his defense firm from the ground up. He carried himself with a certain poise. His dark eyes; keen with intelligence and scrutiny, could command your attention from across the room.

Where my father was tall, dark, and formidable; Alistair Todwick was his polar opposite. With fair skin, blue eyes and light hair, Alistair literally paled in comparison to my father. Despite being of royal blood, my father came from humble beginnings. His great-grandmother had been the Countess of Essex and sixth in line to the throne, but she had fallen in love with a commoner. Bucking tradition, she had opted to marry her sheep farmer.

Giving up the life of luxury that the palace provided, she and her husband tended the sheep, worked the farm, and raised their family away from the spotlight. It was the kind of romance that fairy tales were made of. They ended up having five children and 14 great-grandchildren, one of those being my father.

As a sheep farmer’s son, my father had worked his way through college mucking stalls, and working the family farm before setting out to build his dream. Aughton Securities was one of the most prominent defense firms in the U.K. and he also held a position as a member of the Welsh Parliament. He carried himself with an innate hardness and determination.

Whereas Alistair’s family had money, tons of it, and he grew up the pampered prep-school boy with a silver spoon. Attending Eton and later Cambridge, Alistair was brilliant, but he was weak and soft, and carried himself with an air of entitlement. I didn’t understand what my father saw in him, but father continued to praise his work and requested that he accompany us on this trip.

Alistair made every effort to look like the devoted employee in my father’s presence, but behind his back, he scoffed at having to take orders from a ‘hired hand.’ Alistair couldn’t get past the scandal of my father’s great-grandmother not marrying royalty. He could only dream of having the lineage that my father had. He felt that the success of the company was due to his endeavors and efforts rather than my father’s hard work. He also took his sense of entitlement too far, making inappropriate comments and requests to his staff, particularly to the females. He had very strong opinions about a woman’s place; their time better spent on their backs than in the office. Having been on the receiving end of his unwanted advances, I couldn’t stand to be in the same car with him let alone be spending an entire weekend working with him. He made my skin crawl.

Already having a natural disdain toward women, he took particular exception with me and my position as Chief Legal Counsel, despite my qualifications. I had worked my way up through the firm, never accepting a helping hand from my father. Not that it was offered. My father didn’t believe in handouts. No daughter of his was going to be given a free-ride, regardless of bloodline or royal heritage. Nor did I want one.

I was proud of my lineage, but I didn’t want any favors. Technically, my father was the Viscount of Essex, which made me the Baroness of Essex but I never used the title. I wanted to earn my way, rather than have it be handed it to me because of a title. I started as a legal intern in the corporate office at Aughton Securities as I studied contract law at Oxford. Graduating in the top ten of my class, I was offered lucrative partnerships in prestigious law firms across the U.K. and abroad. Instead, I chose to stay and accept a junior associate position in my father’s company.

I still remember the gleam of pride in his eye when I formally announced that I would be following in his footsteps at the company. He had never once engaged me as to what path I should choose upon graduation. I was his only child, his baby, yet he stepped back and let me decide for myself. I respected him so much more for that. In the end, it was an easy decision for me. I wanted to continue the legacy of what he had built. But, I was determined to make a name for myself on my own merit, out from under the shadow of my father.

Over the years, I had worked my way up from junior associate to partner, and now to Chief Legal Counsel. Alistair resented my rise in the company, especially now that my title and position was above his own. Deciding that the only way to gain true control of the company was to be Michael’s son-in-law, Alistair launched a ridiculous campaign to court me. Recognizing him for the lecherous snake that he was, I quite publicly stymied his advances. Letting it be known in no uncertain terms that I was not, nor would I ever be, interested in any kind of involvement with him.

When his efforts to win control of the company through marriage failed, his animosity and cruelty only continued to grow. In the company of my father, he portrayed the perfect touch of admiration, respect, and willingness to collaborate. But behind closed doors and out of my father’s earshot, he looked for any opportunity to sabotage or belittle my accomplishments.

Scooting over to make room for them in the limo, I thought about how quiet things had been of late. It could only mean one thing. He was planning something, something big.