A Case in Red

Chapter 09

Conrad kept his eyes locked on mine, never wavering. A silence settled between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He drummed his fingers on the desk and then tilted his head slightly.

— Empire? — he repeated, almost in a murmur. — You speak as if Maison Rubra were still under construction.

I held his gaze, striving to appear as composed and neutral as he was. I wanted him to think he needed me more than I needed that contract. I wanted him to believe my work was more than exclusive—it was irresistible.

— Every empire is under construction. It either grows, or it begins to crumble.

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, in a smirk of approval. He knew I was right, and for the first time, I felt I was actually enjoying the conversation. He stood up, placed a hand on his waist, and walked around the desk, stopping right beside me. He leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the desk, close enough that I could catch the scent of peppermint on his breath.

— Most people who speak to me try to flatter me. But you haven't tried to impress me once.

I tilted my chin up, meeting his eyes, fighting to keep my posture straight and confident. However, that proximity was unsettling me more than I cared to admit.

— I didn’t come here to impress you, Mr. Van Dorn. I came to be necessary.

— You are ambitious, Viviane.

He said my name. He didn't call me "Ma'am" or "Ms. Beltrão," nor did he try to remain overly formal. He just said my name. And the sound of it, raw, rolling off his tongue, was better than I had imagined. A shiver ran down my spine as I caught his eyes dipping toward my neckline.

— Ambition is the only thing that separates survivors from leaders.

— And what do you want in return?

I couldn't falter. I couldn't sound desperate, nervous, or uncertain. I knew my worth and the value of my work, and I needed recognition befitting the firm.

— Autonomy to overhaul Maison Rubra’s communications in Brazil and South America, and a share of the profits.

Conrad pulled away. His eyes grew colder. It was a risky demand. He didn’t know me, he didn’t know my work, and Maison Rubra operated on a scale far beyond any company I had ever worked with. He was right to hesitate, and I could understand that. But I swallowed hard when he turned his back. I knew I hadn't asked for too much—but perhaps I had asked too soon?

He sat back down in his chair, allowing no emotion to leak through his expression. Silence descended again, but this time it was dense, heavy. After a few seconds, he looked at me once more.

— Send me a formal proposal by nine tomorrow morning. Include the numbers you promised—the results from your previous clients. If I like what I read, we will sign a ninety-day trial period.

Conrad didn't open doors easily, and although I hadn't secured exactly what I wanted, I was on the right path. I stood up with a faint smile on my lips. Not a "thank God I got something" kind of smile, but one of confidence, satisfaction, and poise.

— Thank you for the opportunity.

I walked toward the door with slow, deliberate steps, knowing his eyes were still on me. But before I could leave, I heard his voice once more.

— Viviane.

I stopped, my hand on the handle.

— If you fail, there will be no second chance.

I turned around slowly.

— I don't usually fail.

And with that, I took my leave.

The moment I closed the office door behind me, I released the breath I had been holding in my lungs. There was a strange sensation in my chest, something I hadn't felt in a long time and never wished to feel again: the fear of failure. Conrad was there, as unyielding as stone, showing me that his business didn't depend on me and how hard I would have to work to earn his approval. Normally, I don't run from challenges, but this time, I feared entering the fray.

I left Mr. Van Dorn’s quarters with a weight on my shoulders and ran straight into Caroline, who was distracted on a call. I adjusted my posture, donning my mask of confidence once more, and pressed the elevator button just as the blonde noticed my presence and said goodbye to whoever was on the phone.

— I see the meeting is over — the assistant noted, her face void of expression. — Did you get what you wanted?

— I always get what I want.

As the large metal doors slid open, I stepped into the elevator, utterly unwilling to speak with Caroline.

— Congratulations, Ms. Viviane. But don't think you’ve won this game — Caroline stepped toward the elevator but didn't enter. The only thing separating us was the threshold between the metal box and the floor of Conrad’s penthouse. Her eyes were cold, her voice devoid of emotion. — Getting onto Mr. Conrad’s team may have been easy for you. The hardest part is yet to come. Good luck, Viviane.

The doors closed, and Caroline and I shared a silent goodbye.