Chapter 3
1116 Words
Charles’ Pov
The boardroom was a fortress of glass and steel, perched on the fifty-second floor of Grayson Enterprises like a king overlooking his empire.
I leaned back in my chair as the last investor left, grateful for the time alone. It was hard to come by these days.
The handshakes from the investors as they filed out one by one had been firm, accompanied with polite smiles but I saw beyond all that.
I knew what was going on. I saw the subtle hesitations, the whispers aside.
Grayson Enterprises was thriving under my leadership more than any of it's previous owners, even my grandfather – the founder.
Profits up twenty percent in the last quarter, acquisitions seamless, competitors crumbling. Yet, there was always that lingering doubt in their eyes, the one they never voiced outright but I knew all too well.
Marriage. Or the lack of it.
At thirty two, I was the epitome of success. Singlehandedly bringing my family business back from the ruins and raising it far above any other business in the city.
But to these buffoons in suits, an unmarried man at the helm signaled instability.
“Family values,” They murmured but I knew they just wanted me to be as miserable as they were.
They acted like my personal life had any bearing on spreadsheets.
Unfortunately for me, perception was currency in this world and mine was fast depreciating.
Just as I predicted, my sister, Janae, strode in without knocking.
“How's my favourite brother doing?” She asked, heels clicking on the marble floors as she headed straight for the bar.
“Have you seen the tabloids today?” She passed her phone to me so I could have a look. The headlines screamed at me, Hawthorne Heir: Playboy or Lone Wolf? Investors Question Stability Amid Rumor.
“This is ridiculous,” She continued, “The media's circling like vultures, and the investors? They're not buying your 'focused on the empire' bullshit anymore.”
I didn't look up from my tablet, “Good morning to you too, Janae. Skip the pleasantries, as usual. How are my nephews?”
“Oh, just wondering when their uncle is finally going to put his life together,” She perched at the edge of the table, her arms crossed, “"Pleasantries are for people who have time to waste. You know why I'm here. The board's whispering. Hell, even our own PR team is fielding calls about your 'eligibility.' You're thirty-two, Charles. In this circle, that's ancient for a bachelor. It makes you look... unreliable. Like you're hiding something. Or worse, like you can't commit to anything beyond a quarterly report.”
I looked at her, “So what's your solution? Should I order a bride off sss? Unlike you, I have feelings and I would want to settle down with only the right person,”
“It's taking you forever to find this so-called right person and time is what we don't have,” She said, holding my gaze. Janae was not one to cower at eye contact. "You're being unnecessarily dramatic. Find a wife. It doesn't have to be love. God knows that's a liability.”
I rose from my chair, taking off my jacket. I folded the sleeves of my shirt up. I knew Janae wasn't wrong; I'd seen competitors toppled by scandals far pettier than bachelorhood.
“I'll think about it,” I said dismissively.
“Think fast. The clock's ticking. The annual gala is in two weeks. Show up alone, and the rumors will bury us both,” Then her voice softened, “Charles, you deserve more than this isolation you have immersed yourself in.”
I waved her off. What I needed now was space to think – away from the penthouse suites and paparazzi flashes. My driver, Elias, raised an eyebrow when I gave him the address: Gold Vine, a modest Italian spot tucked in the lower-class fringes of LA.
The restaurant was dimly lit when I walked in. I chose a table by the window side, ordering a simple orange juice for a start
Halfway through my mental chess game, a woman slid into the chair opposite me.
Normally, I would have been irritated but when my eyes landed on her, her face struck me cold.
She was like an angel fallen from heaven – porcelain skin flushed with a hint of nervousness, wide emerald eyes framed by lashes that needed no enhancement, full lips painted a subtle rose.
Her long blonde hair felt at her waist in soft waves.
She was stunning.
My pulse quickened, an unwelcome betrayal of my composure.
“Hi, Mark, sorry I'm late.” She said, placing her bag on the table.
Mark? I blinked.
I was amused. For the first time in years, I felt charmed, utterly disarmed.
Correct her, that was the logical thing to do. But I wanted to be anything but logical.
And when she extended her soft hand for a handshake, I knew I had made the right decision.
“Excuse me?”
“You're …you're Mark, right?” She stuttered.
I debated within myself, whether I should bring her mistake to her attention or not.
"So nice to meet you." She fanned herself, cheeks pinking. Charming. Rattled already? Intriguing.
We ordered food and when it arrived, she lunged into conversation.
And though I barely asked any questions, she didn't stop talking.
It was amazing how someone could talk that long just for the fun of it without getting tired.
And I realised, I didn't want her to stop either.
Her eyes lit up whenever I asked questions.
She filled the silence, divulging more about her job, her family. Even her dreams.
It was too much for a first meeting, perhaps, but her openness was intoxicating.
I learned her name was Emma. By dessert, I had a vivid picture of her life and I had laughed more than a couple of times which was unusual.
The kiss in front of her apartment was the highlight of everything.
I stiffened but didn't pull away.
I didn't want to.
Driving home, her image lingered in her mind. Every blonde woman suddenly looked like her. In the penthouse, Janae sat waiting for me.
“Charles, we need to talk. About the wife thing, I think I've found just the person.”
"Not tonight, Janae," My voice was firm, brooking no argument. "I'm not in the mood.”
I brushed past her, heading to my room.“See yourself out. Goodnight.”
When the door shut behind me, I loosened my tie and sank into the arm chair by the window, her face still etched in my mind.
- Writer
