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1151 Words
“Another company beat us to it.”
My anger knew no bounds.
“Delacroix dared go back on our agreement after years of working together?”
My directors exchanged surreptitious glances, but in the end, it was Aiden who spoke.
“It wasn't Delacroix. It was us,” he said gruffly. “We failed to procure the property.”
Another impossibility.
I might have been distracted these past couple of days with Miranda’s growing recklessness and the Lycan court in general but not so much that I neglected my business.
We had acquired the land where the luxury resort was to be built already. All that was left was some paperwork that should have been no problem with the revered name I had built for Decadent.
Aiden wasn't done speaking. “Westfield got exclusivity rights for property development on the island, so we were forced to yield our claim.”
Property development exclusivity rights? I wasn't aware that it was available on the island.
They were right. This was a failure on our part due to my distraction and lack of proper investigation.
It was then it hit me.
“Westfield,” I said, the name sounding more familiar as I voiced it out. “Wasn't that the same corporation that undercut us for the nanotech bid?”
“Yes, Mr. Orion.”
Twice now Westfield had taken a deal that was for all intents and purposes mine.
If it had been once, it was one thing but twice… I didn't believe in coincidences.
I stood up, straightening up my suit and effectively ending the meeting.
“I want a full report on everything you can get on Westfield.”
“Of course, Sir.”
In two hours, I had a detailed dossier on Westfield Corporation.
Established several generations ago by a certain Westfield, the company had undergone a major change from the real estate investment firm it had started out as.
Initially, it had thrived and expanded to other lines but after a few reckless CEOs with more excesses than advancement, the company had all but gone under.
Until three years ago.
Aiden slid me a scantier file. No, it wasn't even a file. Just a few pages of paper with two photographs.
“Ms. Westfield,” he said as though that was all the explanation I needed.
The woman was in a nondescript black suit, her hair and more than half of her face hidden beneath a hat and sunglasses in both pictures.
“She is a private person, not much on her going on anywhere but my trusted sources say she seems to be the driving force behind most of Westfield’s latest projects.” Aiden was saying as I perused her file.
The papers in the file didn't say anything about her personal life. Just the projects she had worked on and for a three-year stint as CEO, she had racked up quite a lot of deals, and I had a hunch this wasn't everything.
“I want to meet her,” I informed Aiden.
Aiden grimaced slightly.
“We have tried setting up meetings with her before, but her schedule is always fully booked.”
I leaned into my chair, the tension that had been racking up in me easing out in the face of a challenge.
“I don't care. She will make time for me,” I said confidently.
Business was one thing I was good at independent of my royalty status.
That was why I hadn't employed someone else to take care of my managerial duties and simply stayed back at court.
Besides, I was Dante Orion and one way or another, I always got what I wanted.
Westfield would be calling me in hours tripping over herself to apologize for her mistake and this issue would be easily resolved.
I was wrong.
Westfield left me hanging for two weeks. Two weeks. She ignored the calls of my team and from me. Me.
I couldn't recall the last time I had been so aggravated.
“Does she realize who I am?” I asked Aiden.
Aiden kept a straight face despite the fact it wasn't the first time I had asked him.
“We will try our best to get you on the waiting list,” he said conciliatorily.
So I, Dante Orion, would try to get on a waiting list to meet some human hotshot. It was ridiculous.
Two weeks ago, I would have laughed at such a preposterous idea. I wasn't laughing now.
Aiden was looking up something on his tablet.
“There are some rumors that Ms. Westfield is interested in securing a partnership with Sublime soon.”
Sublime, that was Fort’s company. With major assets and enough liquidity that even I envied, Sublime was one of the major financier options for massive projects.
Something clicked in my head.
“Isn't there a gala for Sublime’s newly listed clothing line in two days?” I asked.
“There is,” Aiden met my gaze uncomprehendingly. “You said you couldn't be in attendance.”
I smiled. “I changed my mind.”
I had a hunch, a really good one, that Westfield would be there.
Fort didn't attend many public events in person, but this event was one that he would. If Westfield really intended to partner with him, she would attend the gala to show her interest in Sublime.
I knew I was obsessing over this CEO simply because it was easier than focusing on the troubles at court and Miranda, whom I hadn't seen since the day of the maid incident. But I couldn't help myself.
When I arrived at the gala, it was already in full swing, the initial offering seemed to have gone well.
Aiden was at my side in seconds. “You were right. She just arrived.”
He indicated towards a cordoned-off section where Fort stood, a petite curvy lady with her hair pulled back in a simple bun in a black dress at his side, her back to us.
I smirked. Of course, I was right.
“Good job.” I patted Aiden on his shoulder before making my way towards Westfield and Fort.
I would like to see her try to ignore me now and put me on a damn waiting—
The scent of vanilla and jasmine slammed into me without any warning whatsoever, halting me in my tracks.
That was…
No, it couldn't be her.
I'd spent the last five years looking for her, perceiving her scent in every crevice of the palace she had visited and seeing her in every long-haired brunette.
Ivie was gone. This was all in my head.
But the scent continued to intensify the closer I got to Fort.
Ms. Westfield and Fort’s conversation paused as I reached them, and all I could do was stare.
Stare at Ms. Westfield, my former mate. Ivie.
- Writer
