CHAPTER 2
1221 Words
Get Away
Alexander's POV
I push my chair back until it scrapes the floor. I get up, scattering papers on the boardroom table. Uncle Marcus's icy grey eyes, which used to frighten me as a child, are fixed on me.
He says, "Alexander, please sit down." "We're not done talking about this."
"Yes, we are." My voice sounds harsher than I intended. "I won't ruin people to get more money."
The other board members look at me as if I've grown a second head. They don't know what Uncle Marcus wants me to do, but they think I'm having a rich boy outburst. He wants me to use devious tactics to destroy Martinez Tech, a small business. He spoke of Elena Martinez as if she didn't exist.
Uncle Marcus says, "Business is war, Alexander." "Weak people don't make it." Your grandfather was aware of that.
"My grandfather started this business to help people, not to harm them." I approach the large window. "He wouldn't want us to turn into monsters."
Uncle Marcus chuckles coldly. "As he grew older, your grandfather became softer. You must be stronger if you hope to manage this business someday.
After my father passed away, these people raised me, but now they want me to become everything I detest. They want me to ruin decent businesses and harm defenceless employees in order to generate more unnecessary revenue.
I look at each of them. "So perhaps I don't want to be in charge of this business."
The room falls silent. Now, even the sound of the rain hitting the window is loud.
Uncle Marcus says, "Don't expect to return as CEO if you walk out that door." "Boy, this business is your birthright. Your father sacrificed his life to construct this for you.
"To keep it, my father wouldn't want me to turn into a monster." I approach the door. "Find someone else to do your dirty work."
I let the heavy door slam behind me as I enter the marble hallway. As I approach the lift, my footsteps reverberate. I can hear Uncle Marcus and the other board members conversing in low, irate tones behind me.
It takes ages for the lift to come. I enter when it opens and hit the parking garage button. The gleaming walls stare back at me. My father never had worry lines at my age, but I look like him in old photos.
Perhaps I simply threw away everything I had spent my entire life working for. But knowing that I ruined decent people in order to get money I don't need keeps me up at night.
My black BMW, which costs more than most people make in two years, is in its designated spot. I should return home to my deserted penthouse and sip pricey whisky until I forget this day ever happened. However, I can't bear to be by myself while my life is falling apart.
I have no idea where I'm going, so I drive through streets that are soaked with rain. Like a heartbeat, the wipers on the windscreen move back and forth. People flee as cars slam through puddles.
Through the rain, the Fairmont Olympic Hotel can be seen. When I was younger, my father and I would come here for business lunches. Everything seemed easy and fine back then.
The doorman acknowledges me and gives me a courteous nod. "Good evening, Mr. Kane."
After the storm outside, the lobby is calm and cosy. In leather chairs, well-dressed individuals converse quietly. It appears as though the real world cannot enter this place because everything is so serene and ideal.
I must have a drink. Perhaps a few drinks will help me forget that I simply left everything my family had worked so hard to create. The Georgian Lounge has gentle golden lighting and is darker than the lobby.
I pick a seat far from other patrons at the far end of the bar. Without questioning me, the barman pours me a double whisky. Although the alcohol burns as it goes down, it eases the constriction in my chest.
The barman wipes glasses and asks, "Rough day?"
"That's something you could say." Warmth spreads through my body as I take another sip. "Have you ever come to the realisation that everything you believed to be true about your life was incorrect?"
I'm left thinking about that as he nods and goes to serve another customer. Perhaps leaving Kane Industries was the best decision I've ever made, even if it meant losing everything I valued.
I'm halfway through my third glass of whisky when I notice something. A woman with long, dark hair that appears damp from rain is sitting by herself at a corner table across the lounge. Her business suit is rumpled, as if she's had a day as bad as mine.
But I'm not drawn to the way she looks. It's the way she sits, as if she's struggling to keep going after something significant. We look at each other across the room as she looks up from her wine glass.
Time pauses entirely. Even the bartender's voice becomes a faint background sound as the gentle music fades away. Her chocolate-brown eyes stare into mine with such intensity that I'm in awe.
I've never connected with a total stranger so quickly. I feel as though I've been waiting for those eyes to look back at me my entire life. Her expression somehow reflects how I'm feeling on the inside.
I get up without giving it any thought. Even though my legs are unsteady, I begin to move towards her table, feeling as though every step will have a lasting impact on my life. Her wine glass is shaking in her hand as she watches me come closer, but she doesn't take her eyes off of me.
When I get to her table, I pause long enough to realise how much more stunning she is up close. Near enough to smell her delicate, flowery scent. I could see the sadness in her brown eyes, which matched mine exactly.
"Hi," I say in a rougher-than-normal voice. "I know this sounds crazy, but it feels like I've spent my entire life searching for you."
Her lips part as though she wants to say something but is at a loss for words, and she looks up at me with those amazing eyes.
"I'm Alexander," I introduce myself. "However, everyone calls me Alex."
"Elena," she murmurs after blinking once and twice. Elle, I mean. I'm known as Elle.
Elle. I want to repeat her name repeatedly just to hear how lovely it sounds.
"Elle," I say cautiously again. "Is it okay if I join you? I swear I'm not a jerk who approaches women in bars at hotels."
She spends a considerable amount of time examining my face as if she were attempting to solve a puzzle. At last, she gestures to the vacant seat across from her. "I also don't want to be by myself tonight."
She motions the waiter for another round as I take a seat across from her. I see a notification appear on her phone screen as he walks over to our table. She flips it face down after a brief
flash of the company logo, but not before I see the name.
Martinez Tech.
- Writer
