Chapter four:Diamonds are made under pressure
1164 Words
Desmond hated boardroom, the endless talking that took place in them frustrated him to his core but there was nothing he hatted more the silence he and his father had for the few moments they sat there.
It wasn’t peaceful, he constantly felt the constant judgement from his father – the kind that grinds against your skin until you crawl yourself out. The room itself was designed for intimidation: black marble floors, glowing LED lights hung from the high ceilings, the long dark table surrounded with chairs.
That morning, only two chairs were occupied. Desmond sat near the centre, fidgeting with the cuff of his black Brioini suit. Christian sat at the far end- like an emperor on his throne- his father observed him with eyes that stripped away pretence.
“You hung up on me last night,” Christian said finally. His voice calm but daring. ‘’What made you think it was okay for you to hang up the phone while I was talking about business that concerned the integrity of this family.”
Desmond’s throat tightened,” I ---“
“Don’t” Christian snapped. “Don’t you even dare think of lying to me. You should know better by now than to lie to me”
Desmond swallowed the bitterness that clogged his throat. He wanted to protest, to explain but the weight of his father’s gaze pinned him. “I thought I heard something in the hallway-“
Christian’s features hardened. A man who built an empire on the reputation of crushing competitors and dominating markets, the idea of losing everything the cost of someone else’s ignorance carried its own threat.
“Something,” he said slowly.
‘’ Yes. I mean I didn’t see anyone but heard a noise in the hallway like touched the painting or something,” Desmond forced out the words.
‘’ could it have been one of the maids” Christian asked.
“No,” Desmond replied. ‘’ it was too late for anyone to be awake on the east wing.’’
‘’ Even Samantha?’’ Christian stated firm and precise. Stern look in his eyes.
Desmond leans back into his chair.
The name floated in the air smoke. Christian’s nostrils flared. ‘’ could it be possible that your fiancée,’’ he said. ‘’the woman going down for our crimes could have heard something?’’
‘’ No,’’ Desmond replied hastily-like blowing out a candle.
‘’Are you sure?’’ Christian asked.
Desmond carefully and hard. His reply had to be accurate- it was one of those moments where he couldn’t say yes or no. ‘’ it might had been her, I don’t know it might have also been the just a creek from the old wall, that part of the house is old you know.’’ He said quickly, hoping it was enough to make Christian trust that he had it under control.
‘’ are you stupid, boy?’’
The words slapped Desmond like a death sentence-direct like a rhetorical question.
Christian leaned forward, folding his hands. The dark green cufflinks engraved with the green global logo, caught the light. Before he could continue Desmond interrupts him mid attempt to speak.
‘’ I’ll handle it’’ he said.
‘’ No you will do more than handle it,’’ Christian commanded. ‘’You will make sure you have her under your grip, you will make sure she doesn’t know a thing about what we are planning, the IRS are coming for us with everything, I’ll die before I let anyone put me in jail for the rest of my life.’’
‘’Yes, Father’’
‘’ Good,’’ Christian sat back.
Desmond’s chest tightened. There it was again-the chill efficiency, the deadly brilliance that had made Christian the predator of the boardroom. Yet within him, something snarled. He remembered the look on Samantha’s face the moment he slipped the ring into her finger.
Christian’s gaze snapped him back. ‘’ why are you still sitting there?’’
Desmond stood out of his chair, buttoned his suit, and walked out of the room.
The city glittered at night, the streets were golden, neon lights reflected-The Exquisite lounge- the name spoke for its exclusive service and interior design, the bar was a perfect blend of brilliance and premium power. Here mayors and governors bump shoulders, schemes were made here, and deals were whispered behind the cover of smoke and whiskey, here, reputation is born and buried.
Samantha sat in the dark edge of the lounge, staring at the view of the city lights over a glass of virgin marry. The unease had kept her up all night. Tonight she was letting loose, tonight she wanted to think of something else, she was getting married the man she had always imagined she would be with, she was going to be called Mrs Green, she was going to be future queen of the kingdom her husband was soon to inherit.
She sipped out of her cup when a voice startle her.
‘’ Rough night?’’
She turned and found Isaac staring at her-a glass of whiskey in his hand.
He wasn’t dressed like the men in the bar. His black turtle neck glued his skin tightly, highlighting his muscular figure. His look was calm and intense-like someone who didn’t miss any detail.
Samantha stared back. “You’re the man from the balcony,” she said. “Do you take pleasure in creeping behind people?”
He smiled, that calm, knowing smile she saw that one time they were on that balcony.” Didn’t think you were the kind of woman to get caught drinking alone. And the name is Isaac, Isaac Welbeck.’’
“I know who you are.’’
Isaac nods. ‘’ may I,’’ he takes the seat across Samantha.
‘’ I’m not supposed to be talking with you’’
‘’ we are always denied what is good for us don’t you think’’
‘’ they deny us those things because there is something better’’
‘’ True, but what if there isn’t ‘’
Samantha hesitated. ‘’ then we bear with what we have.’’
Isaac tilted his head.” Are you alright?’’ he asked, his tone was gentle but observational-like he knew something was wrong.
‘’ what do mean ’’
‘’ well in my business image is everything and right now yours is screaming.’’
Samantha set her glass on the small table beside her chair. She studied him cautiously in the silence she let stretch between them- it was uncomfortable, but revealing.
‘’why are you here Mr. Welbeck?’’ she asked.
‘’ same reason as you right? Just having a drink and enjoying the view.’’
‘’ was that what you were doing at the gala also?’’
The question stung like a needle. Like his camouflage had finally been seen. He felt exposed.
Isaac stole the final sip out of his glass and placed the glass on the table. ”I’ve been following you.”
- Writer
