Fated Love Tribulation

Chapter 13

Three men walked into the conference room, their faces stern.

Leading the group was a man whose very presence radiated power.

His well-tailored suit emphasized his tall, commanding figure, while his chiseled features exuded an air of authority.

A few stray locks of hair fell casually over his forehead, adding a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise sharp appearance.

Without a word, he strode forward and took the seat directly across from Serena.

Serena's gaze locked onto him, her face remaining calm, but her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

Of all the people she had imagined might walk through that door, she never expected it to be him.

Alexander caught her gaze, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he noted her attempt at composure.

His eyes gleamed with amusement as they met hers, unwavering and intense.

"Uh-hmm..." Julien cleared his throat loudly, clearly displeased at being ignored.

His glare was aimed directly at Alexander, who still had that slight smirk on his face.

This was all because of Alexander's earlier statement: "If you want me to sponsor this, Serena must be the one to negotiate with me. No one else. Not even you, Julien." Julien knew exactly what Alexander was playing at.

"Shall we begin?" A deep, magnetic voice cut through the tension, making everyone at the table sit a little straighter.

"Let's start," Julien muttered, signaling Serena with a brief nod.

The negotiation dragged on, slow and tedious.

What was supposed to be a straightforward sponsorship meeting became a grilling session led by Alexander, who asked an exhausting amount of questions—some so sharp they bordered on unreasonable.

Yet no matter how tricky the questions, Serena handled them with calm efficiency, sidestepping each trap he laid with grace.

Two hours later, both sides were physically and mentally drained.

The barrage of data and probing questions had taken its toll on everyone except the two leading the discussion.

Another half hour passed before Alexander finally raised a hand, signaling a pause.

"That's enough for today. We'll continue discussing the details another time." His words brought an audible sigh of relief from the rest of the room.

"Lex, you owe us dinner after that!" Julien immediately switched gears, donning his trademark smirk. "I swear, if I had been the one negotiating, you would've peeled my skin off. Thank God for Serena."

"Of course, I'll treat you all," Alexander replied, smiling slightly before throwing a glance that could almost be described as jealous at Julien. "If I had someone as talented as Miss Serena on my team, I wouldn't have to go through all this myself."

His eyes lingered on Serena, filled with admiration. She wasn't just impressive in the bedroom—her mind was sharp, too. Julien has no idea how lucky he is, Alexander mused.

"Mr. Sinclair, where are we going for dinner?" Donna's voice was sweet and sugary as she flirted across the table, sending seductive looks in Alexander's direction, completely ignoring her actual benefactor sitting right beside her.

Julien glanced at Donna, his tone laced with fake jealousy. "Sweetheart, you're going to make me jealous talking like that."

After the first round of negotiations, Serena found herself reflecting deeply.

Despite all the questions Alexander had thrown at her, they had barely touched on the most crucial point: the actual sponsorship amount.

The whole discussion had felt more like a test, with him toying with her, probing for weaknesses.

Frustrated and tired, she threw her pen down and leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples.

That evening, they were set for their second round of negotiations—just her and Alexander. The venue? A bar.

When she first heard, she was taken aback for a moment, but then it made sense.

Nothing about this man was typical.

As night fell, the city came alive, bathed in colorful neon lights that painted the skyline in hues of blue, pink, and purple.

The glow cast ripples of light, flowing like water through the streets, illuminating every corner of the bustling metropolis.

The parking lot outside the bar was packed with cars. As Serena pulled into her space, she thought she saw a man waving at her, a mischievous smile on his face.

But when she looked again after parking, there was no one. *A trick of the light,* she thought, shaking off the eerie feeling.

Climbing the stairs to their private room, she could already hear faint giggles and soft moans from inside.

Serena checked the paper in her hand to confirm the room number. This was it.

The door wasn't locked, which struck her as odd. After a deep breath, she twisted the knob and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, bathed in soft pink light that screamed seduction.

On the sofa, two shadowy figures were entwined in a heated embrace. Clothes, mostly women's, were strewn across the floor.

The man, however, was still impeccably dressed—at least from the back.

The smell of expensive cologne mixed with the heady scent of debauchery filled the air.

Serena stood still for a moment, taking it all in.

Then, with the calm grace of someone unfazed by the scene before her, she knocked gently on the doorframe. "Sorry to interrupt."

Her voice was cold, detached. Without waiting for a response, she walked over to the other side of the room and sat down, completely indifferent to the couple's activities.

Startled, the woman on the sofa let out a sharp gasp and tried to pull away, her voice trembling as she asked, "Who's there?" The sultry tone she had been using moments before was now tinged with fear.

"Don't be scared, darling. It's just an old friend," Alexander's voice was smooth as he gave the woman's bare skin a reassuring pat.

His face was shadowed by the dim light, but Serena could feel his gaze burning into her, unmistakably intense. Interrupting a man during such an intimate moment would normally lead to a furious response, but Alexander was unusually calm.

The heated exchange on the sofa continued, but it was clear the mood had shifted. The thrill was gone.

Serena sat silently, watching the scene unfold as though it were just another movie—detached, impassive.

The only difference was that this wasn't playing out on a screen; it was happening right in front of her.

Finally, Alexander seemed to lose interest. He stood up abruptly, the energy in the room completely dissipated.

Without a glance at the woman still quivering on the couch, he muttered coldly, "Get out."

The woman gathered her discarded clothing as quickly as she could, stumbling in her haste, and fled the room in a disheveled mess.