Chapter eight
552 Words
TANISHA
I exhaled, shoulders heavy but spine straight, and walked toward him anyway. Praying to God, he doesn’t embarrass me in front of all those people for interrupting him.
He was mid-conversation when I reached him, hands in his pockets, that bored-but-polished expression he wore whenever he pretended to care about someone else’s innovation.
I cleared my throat softly. “Mr. Gustavo… your speech is the opening program. They’re starting in ten.”
He turned his head toward me slowly, one brow arched. He didn’t look shocked, just…annoyed. Maybe irritated? I don’t know, I could hardly tell when it came to Christof.
“If you hadn’t gotten here late,” he said, voice low and clipped “I would’ve known that already.”
Maybe if you had let me ride in the car with you and your stupid girlfriend, I would have gotten here the same time as you did, and given you a timely update.
Obviously, I could never say that to him. I wished I could though.
Instead I said, “I’m sorry, but that’s the current update from the organizers. If you’d like to go over your speech I—”
“Why are you still here? Go make sure the podium mic works.”
Thankfully, Pepa was too distracted filming. She could have added gasoline to fire and salt to injury.
I stayed rooted in place for a second. The only subtle act of defiance I could manage.
Christof gave me a sideways glance.
I turned to leave before he saw the eye roll I had aimed for him.
He muttered something about incompetence under his breath. Loud enough for me to hear, soft enough for no one else to notice.
Ten minutes later, Christof mounted the small elevated stage. He looked he owned the conservatory, like they’d built the damn place for him. The lights overhead caught the sharp lines of his suit, the silver watch glinting at his wrist, the quiet confidence in every calculated movement.
The room instantly went quiet. Founders, investors, tech bros with too much gel in their hair. Every single one of them stared at him like he was about to cure cancer with a TED Talk.
He rested one hand on the podium and gave the room his signature slow, easy half-smile. The one that translated to “I already know you adore me, let’s just get started.”
His voice filled the space, smooth, deep, effortlessly commanding. He talked about innovation, the future of sustainable tech, the responsibility of modern leaders.
He threw a bit of humor in there. Light, controlled, perfectly timed, and the audience laughed like it was a Kevin hart stand up comedy show. I watched them eat it up, every polished, charming second of it, and forced myself not to gag.
They had no idea.
To them, he was brilliance wrapped in charisma.
Yes. He was brilliant, really smart too. He could also be prefectly described as the devil in disguise. The Devil in a tailored charcoal suit who’d made my life hell from nine in the morning to… apparently… whenever he felt like it.
Someone behind me whispered, “God, he’s no majestic.”
Yeah, I thought. Demons could be majestic too.
Christof continued effortlessly, captivating the crowd, not a single hair out of place.
- Writer
