Passionate Game

This cannot seriously be happening, Joyce mumbled as she tried to hold onto the last bit of her patience. The speedometer in her white Lexus hadn’t gone over 5 miles per hour since she got stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Morning traffic in downtown Toronto was something she had never gotten used to. Her meeting with Mr. and Mrs. William was scheduled to start any minute. She had thought she’d make it in time when she left home two hours earlier—but clearly, she was wrong. The William's owned several luxurious estates and also ran one of the top job resource agencies in the country. Joyce was meeting them to discuss buying one of their finest estates—the one with the breathtaking view of Westend. She had promised her grandmother that she would act fast if the William's ever decided to sell. Joyce’s family and the William's were long-time friends. And although many people were trying to get their hands on the estate, the couple had narrowed the list down to Joyce and one other buyer. Unfortunately, the other buyer was willing to outbid her. “Come on, move out of the way!” Yelling didn’t seem enough, so she honked her horn for good measure. She didn’t care what the other drivers thought. Her morning had already started off badly when she found out her flat iron was broken. She had to straighten half her hair with a curling iron. Then she spilled coffee on her favorite black business suit and had to wear one that hugged her backside tighter than she liked. Now the traffic was making everything worse. But just as she was about to give up hope of ever getting off Lake Shore Boulevard East, the traffic finally started moving—and she reached her destination. She entered the corporate building ten minutes late. “Hello, my name is Joyce Rayne. I have a 10:00am meeting with Mr. and Mrs. William.” The French receptionist waved a perfectly manicured hand toward two grand doors. “Mr. and Mrs. William are waiting for you. Please go right in.” Joyce stepped into the conference room. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. I’m so sorry I’m late.” She offered a soft smile. “No problem, sweetie,” Mrs. William said warmly, taking Joyce’s hand. She stepped back and looked Joyce over. “Just look at you. It feels like just yesterday you were a little girl holding your grandmother’s pinkie finger. My, how you’ve grown.” As a teen, Joyce had always felt awkward, unsure how to carry herself. But now, she was a confident woman who knew how to own her beauty and her stride. “We haven’t seen you in so long, Joyce. You seem to be doing fine... just a little sadness in your eyes,” Mrs. William observed gently. “I’m fine. It gets easier each year. I still miss Maggie, but everything is going well.” It had been five years since her grandmother, Margaret Philson, passed away. Yet sometimes, the ache felt just as sharp as the day she got the news. Mrs. William gently squeezed her hand. “It takes time. She wouldn’t want you to be sad.” Joyce gave her hand a soft stroke. “I know.” “Let’s get down to business,” Mr. William said, stepping forward to escort Joyce to a nearby chair. It was then Joyce noticed the handsome man sitting at the end of the table. His skin was a smooth chocolate tone, and his presence was impossible to ignore. “Joyce Rayne, I’d like to introduce you to Daman Sébastien—the other buyer interested in the estate.” Daman stood and walked toward her. “Ms. Rayne, it’s a pleasure.” “Nice to meet you, Mr. Sébastien—but please, call me Joyce.” Her voice dropped unexpectedly low and soft. “It’s nice to meet you too—and you can call me Daman.” She held his hand longer than she should have, startled by the spark between them. The way his large hand held hers sent a chill down her spine. “Daman Sébastien is your competition—pull yourself together, girl. You’ve got this!” Easier said than done. He was tall, muscular, and God bless the tailor who fitted him into that blue pinstriped suit. The man had swagger. She’d noticed that the moment he walked over. But she also sensed arrogance in the way he carried himself. Somehow, he made it look sexy. His name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. And the way he stared at her—intense, unreadable—made her heart pound. It was like he could see through her suit and into her thoughts. Is he attracted to me? Or just sizing up the competition? As if reading her mind, he winked and gave her a sexy smile, catching her completely off guard. Yes, it was definitely attraction. “Shall we get started?” Mrs. William asked, interrupting the silent exchange between Joyce and Daman. “Yes,” they both replied at once. Mr. William began. “We’ve called you both here because of your interest in our estate. It’s been a tough decision for us. So, we’ve come up with a proposal.” Joyce calmly looked from Mr. William to Mrs. William. “And what would that be?” “Well,” Mr. William said, “you both know about the Black Enterprise Entrepreneurs Conference and Expo, which gives African-American entrepreneurs the chance to network and be recognized for their work. This year, they’re adding the first Performance and Achievement Awards Gala, which will honor business owners on a bigger scale.” “Are you both aware of the gala?” Mrs. William asked. “Yes,” Joyce replied. Daman nodded in agreement. “My wife and I serve on the executive board for Black Enterprise. We’ve been asked to choose planners to organize the gala. It takes place on July 20th—just three months from now. Planning includes confirming about 1,500 guests, catering, pre- and post-party events... the list goes on.” Joyce looked at Daman. He seemed just as confused. “I’m sorry, Mr. William,” she said. “But I don’t follow. What does the gala have to do with our interest in the estate?” Mrs. William smiled. “What my husband is saying is, we’ve received approval from the board, and we’d like to ask the two of you to plan the gala—together. Afterward, you’ll decide who gets the estate.” “If you accept, we have volunteers to help you,” Mr. William added. “We also decided last week to sell one of our smaller estates,” Mrs. William said. “It’s not as grand as the lake-view estate, but it’s still beautiful. Whoever doesn’t win the big estate will get the smaller one—free of charge.” “Free of charge?” Daman asked, eyebrows raised. “Why wouldn’t we get paid for this event?” Mr. William chuckled. “As a consolation prize for doing us this big favor, we’re offering the properties to you both for a minimal fee.” He handed them each a paper with the property prices. “Why so cheap?” Daman asked again. “We’ve been blessed with wealth from wise investments,” Mrs. William said. “This isn’t about money—it’s about putting the estates in the right hands.” Joyce didn’t like surprises. She wished the William had spoken to her privately before springing this on her. But as close family friends, she knew better than to argue. “I need a day or two to think about it,” she said. “I do too,” Daman added. He walked closer to her chair. “Joyce, I usually work in Detroit this time of year, but I’ll be in Toronto for a while. May I suggest we talk about this over dinner tomorrow?” He was right. They had a lot to discuss. But all she could think about was the way he made her heart skip a beat. “Sounds like a plan,” she replied, happy her voice sounded more neutral this time. “Here’s my card. Call me, and I’ll meet you at a place of your choice.” Daman nodded as he took the card, then extended his hand again. She hesitated, but the moment their hands touched, that magnetic spark returned. The look in his eyes told her he felt it too. When she stood up, he let go, but stayed close. “Mr. and Mrs. William, it’s been a pleasure,” he said. “Joyce and I should have an answer for you in, oh…” He turned to her, letting her finish the sentence. “In a couple of days,” Joyce said. “As always, it’s lovely seeing you both.” Mrs. William opened the door. “Joyce, send our love to your family. We look forward to hearing from the two of you soon.”