Chapter Four - Bidding
1819 Words
Valentina Sinclair did not sleep.
She told herself she had more important things to think about.
Project Horizon.
The upcoming board meeting.
Three acquisition contracts waiting for her signature.
Yet at 3:17 a.m., she was still standing barefoot in her penthouse, wrapped in a silk robe, staring down at the city lights.
The cream-colored card sat on the marble counter.
The words were simple.
Perhaps another time.
She had read them too many times.
Perhaps.
A word that sounded polite.
A word that sounded harmless.
But somehow, from Lucien Devereux, it felt like a dismissal.
Like she was an appointment that could be moved to a more convenient date.
Like Lumière, her invitation, and even she herself were not important enough for him to rearrange his schedule.
She hated that it bothered her.
Valentina Sinclair did not get bothered.
She made people nervous.
She made competitors rethink their strategies.
She made entire companies change direction with a single decision.
But one sentence from Lucien Devereux had managed to stay in her head all night.
She remembered Daniel accepting the invitation with professional courtesy.
She remembered the silence in her office afterward.
Everyone waiting.
Everyone watching.
Waiting to see how she would react.
She had smiled.
Of course, she had.
“I find that interesting,” she had said.
It wasn't interesting.
It was irritating.
She walked toward the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.
She never drank it.
Instead, she found herself thinking about him again.
His calm expression.
His unreadable eyes.
The way he had looked at her at the gala.
The way he had said:
“Not everyone.”
Valentina closed her eyes briefly.
Annoying.
That was the only explanation.
By 7:00 a.m., she was already dressed.
By 7:45 a.m., she arrived at Sinclair Global Holdings.
Ivory suit.
Diamond earrings.
Hair pulled into her signature sleek knot.
Every trace of emotion was gone.
Her armor was back.
The executive floor immediately became quiet when she stepped out of the elevator.
Employees straightened.
Assistants lowered their voices.
No one wanted to be the person who caught Valentina Sinclair in a bad mood.
Mara was already waiting outside her office with coffee and a tablet.
“Good morning, Ms. Sinclair. The board meeting begins at nine.”
Valentina placed her handbag down.
“Anything else?”
Mara hesitated.
That alone caught Valentina’s attention.
“Mr. Devereux.”
Valentina looked up.
“What about him?”
Mara turned the tablet toward her.
“He really did have another commitment.”
Several photos appeared on the screen.
Lucien.
Not in a luxury suit surrounded by executives.
Not standing at a business event.
He was wearing a simple navy suit, sleeves rolled up.
In one photo, he was kneeling beside a little girl wearing a hospital bracelet.
She was laughing.
In another, he was cutting the ribbon at a newly renovated pediatric wing.
Another showed him speaking with doctors and nurses.
There were no interviews.
No obvious publicity.
Just moments that looked real.
“He attended the Children’s Hope Foundation fundraiser,” Mara explained.
“He donated ten million dollars anonymously.”
Valentina stared at the screen.
Anonymous.
That word bothered her more than she expected.
Because it meant he wasn't trying to impress anyone.
He wasn't trying to win points.
He had simply done it.
For the first time, she wondered if maybe she had misunderstood him.
And that thought annoyed her even more.
She closed the tablet.
“I see.”
Mara watched her carefully.
“You were expecting something else?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Mara said nothing.
Valentina picked up the cream-colored card from her desk.
The invitation.
The rejection.
Without hesitation, she placed it into the shredder.
The paper disappeared.
“I won't send another invitation.”
“Understood.”
Valentina walked toward the window overlooking the city.
Her city.
Her empire.
Her rules.
Then she remembered Lucien's expression in those photos.
The warmth.
The patience.
She hated that it looked good on him.
“We don't chase people,” she said quietly.
Mara tilted her head.
For a moment, she wasn't sure if Valentina was speaking to her.
Or convincing herself.
Valentina turned around.
The emotion was gone again.
“If someone wants to play games…”
A small smile appeared.
“We make them come to us.”
---
10:00 a.m. — Boardroom, Floor 73
Twelve executives sat around the glass conference table.
At the head sat Valentina Sinclair.
Behind her, the city stretched endlessly through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
On the massive screen was one name.
PROJECT HORIZON
Luxury Waterfront Development.
Eighty acres.
Marina.
Luxury residences.
Five-star hotel.
Estimated value: $2.4 billion.
Valentina studied the presentation.
“Sinclair Global will be submitting a bid.”
The CFO, David Harper, cleared his throat.
“Ms. Sinclair, there is something you should know.”
She looked up.
“Devereux Holdings submitted their proposal yesterday.”
The room went silent.
Valentina's pen stopped.
“Devereux Holdings?”
David nodded.
“Their approach is different.”
The slide changed.
Affordable housing.
Public waterfront park.
Environmental restoration.
Community development.
Valentina stared at the screen.
Of course.
Lucien Devereux.
The man who donated millions anonymously.
The man who built his proposal around helping people.
Around the table, executives exchanged uncertain looks.
Everyone understood.
Project Horizon was no longer just a business opportunity.
It was a battle.
Valentina placed her pen down.
“Then we beat them.”
“On price?” the legal director asked.
“No.”
She stood.
“On vision.”
She walked toward the windows.
“Double the green space.”
Everyone looked surprised.
“Triple the projected employment opportunities.”
She continued.
“Add funding for youth development programs for the next ten years.”
The CFO frowned.
“Ms. Sinclair, that increases our commitment by almost four hundred million dollars.”
“I know.”
Her reflection stared back at her.
Friday.
City Hall.
Investors.
Reporters.
Lucien Devereux.
No private invitations.
No chance for him to politely refuse her.
Perfect.
Mara spoke from behind her.
“You haven't said who will represent Sinclair Global.”
Valentina turned.
“I will.”
The room froze.
Everyone knew what that meant.
For five years, Valentina Sinclair had never personally attended a public bidding event.
She sent representatives.
She sent lawyers.
She sent executives.
She only appeared when victory was already guaranteed.
David looked uncertain.
“Are you sure?”
Valentina met his eyes.
“Yes.”
The discussion was over.
---
Friday arrived.
City Hall had never been this full.
2 p.m.
CEOs in tailored suits.
Investors clutching portfolios.
Reporters holding cameras.
The Project Horizon bidding event was supposed to be about real estate.
Everyone knew it was about them.
Valentina Sinclair arrived at 1:55.
Ivory pantsuit.
Diamond studs.
Perfect confidence.
The moment she entered, cameras turned.
“Ms. Sinclair, are you here for Horizon or Devereux?”
“Is the bet influencing your bid?”
“Will you be dining together afterward?”
She ignored every question.
She walked forward.
Sat down.
Crossed her legs.
Perfect posture.
Perfect control.
Let them watch.
Let them wonder.
At 1:59 p.m., the doors opened again.
Lucien Devereux.
Black suit.
White shirt.
No tie.
Daniel followed behind him.
No entourage.
No unnecessary attention.
Lucien didn't look for cameras.
He didn't look for approval.
He simply walked in like he belonged there.
And somehow, everyone believed it.
Valentina watched him from the corner of her eye.
Only for a second.
She hated that she noticed.
Even more, she hated that she had wondered whether he would come to her.
He didn't.
Instead, he took a seat three rows behind her.
Diagonal.
Close enough to see her.
Far enough to pretend he wasn't watching.
Interesting.
The presentations began.
Valentina's was exactly what everyone expected.
Powerful.
Precise.
A plan built to dominate.
Twenty minutes.
Four hundred million in commitments.
A development strategy designed to win.
Then Lucien stood.
Ten minutes.
No dramatic performance.
No unnecessary numbers.
Just a vision.
A park.
Housing.
Schools.
A community.
Valentina narrowed her eyes.
It was smart.
Too smart.
Because beneath the idealism were careful calculations.
Lucien Devereux wasn't a dreamer.
He was a businessman.
A dangerous one.
The votes were submitted.
The winner would be announced the following week.
When the event ended, reporters surrounded them.
“Ms. Sinclair!”
“Mr. Devereux!”
“Who has the advantage?”
Valentina moved toward the exit.
Then she heard him.
“Ms. Sinclair.”
She stopped.
Turned.
Lucien stood three feet away.
Finally.
The cameras immediately lifted.
“Mr. Devereux.”
“The proposal was impressive,” he said.
“You committed heavily to youth programs.”
Valentina tilted her head.
“Your proposal was… quaint.”
A few reporters smiled.
“Charming. But this is business.”
His mouth twitched.
“You're bidding to win.”
A pause.
“I'm bidding to build.”
His eyes met hers.
“Different goals.”
“Different morals, you mean.”
This time, he smiled.
Small.
Dangerous.
“You think money makes you cruel, Valentina.”
She froze.
Barely.
But he noticed.
Nobody called her Valentina in public.
Nobody except him.
“You think rejecting me twice makes you interesting, Lucien.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face.
“Perhaps it does.”
The cameras continued.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Valentina stepped closer.
“Let me make something clear.”
Her voice lowered.
“I am not here because of the bet.”
Lucien studied her.
Then quietly:
“Liar.”
Only she heard it.
Her jaw tightened.
“And I don't chase people.”
“I never asked you to.”
“Good.”
The silence between them stretched.
Not anger.
Not exactly.
Something far more dangerous.
Lucien tilted his head.
“You really don't like losing, do you?”
Valentina smiled.
Cold.
Confident.
Untouchable.
“I don't lose.”
His smile widened.
Slowly.
“We'll see.”
Then he walked away.
No handshake.
No goodbye.
Just Lucien Devereux disappearing into the crowd while cameras followed him.
Valentina remained still for one second too long.
Then she walked out.
Outside, the headlines were already spreading.
BILLIONAIRE RIVALS CLASH AT CITY HALL
ICE QUEEN VS GHOST CEO: WHO WILL CRACK FIRST?
IS THE BET ALREADY OVER?
Inside the car, Mara remained silent.
Valentina stared out the window.
She should have been thinking about Project Horizon.
The investors.
The competition.
The numbers.
Instead, one sentence repeated in her mind.
We'll see.
And she hated that Lucien Devereux hadn't said it like a challenge.
He had said it like a promise.
The bet was no longer just three months and a dare.
It was public.
It was business.
It was war.
And somewhere across the city, Lucien Devereux was probably smiling.
Because for the first time in years…
he had found someone who refused to lose.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD