CHAPTER 4: TERMS AND CONDITIONS
1110 Words
CHAPTER 4: TERMS AND CONDITIONS
The morning after the bet, Sharon woke up with a clarity that felt almost holy.
There was no hangover.
No regret.
Only calculation.
Sunlight streamed through the glass walls of the Savannah Hotel, laying gold across the polished floor. She stood in the centre of the room, hands folded, replaying the previous night in her mind. Her decisions. Her everything.
Ten million dollars.
One year.
Secure him genuinely.
Not by force.
She smiled faintly.
Genuinely was a flexible word.
By 8:30 a.m., she was in her office at Aura Real Estate & Logistics. Castro was already waiting with the day’s briefing, but she barely skimmed the documents.
“Cancel my lunch meeting,” she said.
“With the Dubai partners?” Castro asked.
“No. The other one.”
He nodded and made a note.
“Also,” she continued, “I need a full profile on Harvest Flame restaurant.”
Castro paused mid-typing.
“The restaurant on Express Road?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’m considering diversifying,” she replied smoothly. “Hospitality.”
He studied her for a second but knew better than to question too far.
“I’ll have a report ready by noon.”
By afternoon, Sharon had everything she needed.
Harvest Flame.
Opened eighteen months ago.
Rapid growth.
Known for continental fusion cuisine.
Head chef: Billiewhite Diggs.
Age: 28.
Culinary training in New Town.
No scandals.
No criminal record.
No public relationships.
Salary: modest.
Ambition level: high. Disciplined.
She leaned back in her leather chair.
Perfect.
Not too rich to resist opportunity.
Not too poor to appear desperate.
Young enough to be moulded.
Confident enough to be a trophy.
She closed the file.
“Schedule dinner at Harvest Flame tonight,” she told Castro.
“For how many guests?”
“Just me.”
Harvest Flame was elegant in a way that did not scream for attention.
Warm lighting.
Wood accents.
The scent of grilled herbs and butter in the air.
When Sharon walked in, conversations dipped subtly.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
The hostess led her to a reserved table near the window.
“Your chef,” Sharon said calmly, “I’d like him to prepare my meal personally.”
The hostess hesitated. “He’s quite busy tonight...”
“I’ll wait.”
Money had a tone. And Sharon spoke it fluently.
Fifteen minutes later, Billiewhite Diggs emerged from the kitchen.
Up close, he was even more striking.
Clean jawline.
Focused eyes.
A presence that did not seek validation.
“Yes, ma’am?” he asked politely.
“I prefer Sharon,” she replied.
He nodded once. “What would you like to eat, Sharon?”
The way he said her name unsettled her slightly.
No fear.
No exaggerated respect.
Just normal.
“I want whatever you believe represents you best,” she said.
One eyebrow lifted slightly.
“That’s a risk,” he replied.
“I don’t fear risk.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
“I’ll surprise you.”
He returned to the kitchen.
For the first time in a long while, Sharon felt something unfamiliar.
Anticipation.
The dish arrived twenty minutes later.
Seared sea bass.
Herb-infused rice.
A sauce layered with precision. Yeah, she was madam precision, too.
She took one bite.
Then another.
It was excellent.
Not showy.
Balanced.
Confident.
Just like him.
When he returned to check on her, she did not pretend indifference.
“This is impressive,” she admitted.
“Thank you.”
“You run this kitchen well.”
“I respect my craft,” he replied simply.
She studied him.
“You ever considered something bigger?” she asked.
“Bigger than what?”
“Ownership.”
He gave a small laugh. “One day.”
“What if one day came sooner?”
Now he looked at her carefully.
“I don’t understand.”
Sharon leaned backwards slightly.
“I own multiple properties across Balii and Limbe. I invest in potential. I recognize talent. And I reward it.”
He folded his arms loosely.
“I’m not for sale.”
The words landed gently but firmly.
She did not flinch.
“Good,” she said smoothly. “I prefer partnerships.”
Silence lingered between them.
Then he nodded politely.
“Enjoy your meal, Sharon.”
As he walked away, she watched him, not hungrily, but strategically.
He wasn’t impressed.
Which meant the approach would require finesse.
The next morning, Harvest Flame restaurant received an anonymous inquiry.
A corporate catering contract proposal.
Large scale.
High value.
Long-term.
Two days later, Sharon returned to the restaurant, this time officially.
She requested a private meeting with the owner.
Within forty-eight hours, she acquired 40% silent shares in Harvest Flame restaurant through a holding company no one could trace back to her directly.
Control didn’t always need to be loud.
Sometimes, it moved quietly.
One week later, she returned again.
Billiewhite was informed that a new investor would be visiting.
When she walked in, this time not as a diner but as a shareholder representative, his expression changed slightly.
Not shock.
But curiosity.
“You?” he asked.
“Surprise,” she replied lightly.
“You invested here?”
“I believe in growth.”
He studied her again.
“And what exactly do you want to grow?”
She held his gaze.
“Potential.”
Something unspoken passed between them.
This was no longer coincidence.
This was intentionality in play.
That evening, at the snack, Kelly nearly choked on her drink when Sharon shared the update.
“You already invested?” Ella gasped.
“Forty percent,” Sharon corrected calmly.
Marina stared at her in disbelief. “This is no longer flirting. This is strategy.”
Sharon smiled faintly.
“You wanted genuine. I’m creating proximity.”
Kelly shook her head. “Just remember the condition. No force.”
“I don’t force,” Sharon replied calmly. “I influence.”
Across town, Billiewhite sat alone in his apartment, thinking.
The investor.
Her eyes.
Her confidence.
Her persistence.
He wasn’t naïve.
He knew power when he saw it.
But something about her felt… layered.
It's like a storm pretending to be sunlight.
Back in her hotel suite, Sharon stood once more before the glass wall overlooking Balii.
The city lights shimmered below.
Control.
Access.
Proximity.
The pieces were moving.
She raised a glass of wine slowly.
“To one year,” she murmured.
Somewhere deep inside, a quiet voice whispered:
Be careful what you turn into while trying to win.
But Sharon had never listened to quiet voices.
And the game was only beginning to heat up.
- Writer
