Chapter Three – The Offer
829 Words
The proposed charity gala was less about charity and more about alliances–money buying influence, and handshake sealing deals. Crown Events, whose senior planner was Aima Deville, was shortlisted. Their portfolio clicked open and images of previous events filled the projected screen. The arrangements were so artful. Carl didn't know much about Aima, but her work spoke in the same language he understood best: order. She created beauty not to be seen, but to exist. And he admired that.
Across the city in a small corner–office of Crown Events, Aima sat at her desk with her laptop open, keeping herself busy with logistics, budgets, thank-you emails and anything that didn't involve thinking about grey eyes. In charge of the company's email, she received an inbox with the subject: Graham Group Private Event–and Carl himself had sent the mail. Her fingers hovered over the mouse before she clicked.
From: Carl Graham
To: Aima Deville
Miss Deville,
I would require the services of your team to oversee our upcoming foundation retreat which will be bigger, with high profiles. My assistant will forward you the details. I trust your team will consider it.
– C.G
She reread the message three times, looking for anything below the formality, but found none. She received a follow-up email of the details and at this point, her head was spinning in disbelief. She quickly brushed through and called her boss.
“What's the booking?” Jane asked.
“Graham Group officially hired us”
“OMG…this is huge.” Jane jubilated over the phone.
Aima watched the cursor blink in the reply window for a moment. And as she typed her reply, her hands quivered over the keyboard.
From: Aima Deville
Mr Graham,
We have reviewed the schedule and details, and we are available to take on the event. Thank you for the opportunity.
– A. D
She stared at the screen for a while and finally clicked send. She then leaned back in her seat and whispered to herself, “It's just work.” Immediately, she swung into action, as they were scheduled for briefing in a couple of days.
After closing of work, Aima took a trip back to her late mother's mini flower shop, now run by her younger sister–Tilly. The place hadn't changed in years. Same old wooden counter, same faded photo of their mum smiling with her hands full of roses at the corner.
“So what's new?” Tilly asked, sliding a glass of apple juice across the counter to Aima.
“It's just work.” She sipped her juice.
“Right…work.” Tilly said slowly.
Aima sighed, “he offered me a project.”
“The same Mr Graham?”
“Yes, the same Mr Graham.” Aima replied.
Tilly leaned closer, and asked in a low voice, “and you're hesitating because…?”
“Because it's him.” she said reluctantly.
“That's vague.”
“Tilly, it's complicated.” she said, fidgeting in her seat.
“Complicated like you can't stop thinking about someone way out of your league? Aima, he's your client for Christ sake!”
“I know.”
Tilly softened her voice, “Look, I know you've spent years fighting to be seen, just be careful. Men like his kind can rewrite the rules without even realising.”
Aima nodded in approval, “that's what scares me.”
They sat in silence for a while, the vibration of the old refrigerator echoing the room. Then Tilly finally poked her.
“You've always wanted to work at the top right? Maybe this is that chance. Just…don't let it change you.”
Aima smiled softly, “you sound like mum right now.”
“Someone has to.” They both giggled.
That night, back at her apartment, Aima convinced herself it was just an illusion–and the fact that he walked up to her couldn't mean anything.
After Carl returned to his mansion from work, he poured himself a drink, and stood before the window wall of his room again–in his white robe. He had agreed to another gala, another endless play of his father, and he had convinced himself he didn't care.
Love, as far as Carl Graham was concerned, was nothing but a liability. And liabilities were for other people–not him. But for reasons he didn't understand, his thoughts kept drifting back to Aima–the woman in black, moving through the crowd with grace, making beauty look effortless.
Carl found himself thinking about someone beyond his world–a world that believed in power, wealth. But he could feel something different–the same thing he glimpsed in her eyes when he spoke to her. And it was the beginning of something his money could never buy. He knew his father wouldn't have him being with a mere event planner.
“I'd risk everything to make her mine.” He affirmed.
- Writer
