Claimed by The Rival CEO

CHAPTER TEN: I never allow distractions to interfere with business.

Aaron’s POV

The boardroom was suffocatingly quiet except for my secretary Richard’s voice, droning as he went through the acquisition numbers. Twelve board members sat around the long obsidian table, all of them watching me like I was a bomb that might go off at any second.

Which, today, didn’t feel entirely inaccurate.

“…the residents are refusing every offer, sir,” Richard continued, adjusting his glasses. “We’ve increased the compensation package by forty-two percent. We’ve offered relocation assistance, new housing units, even educational funds for their children. They still won’t budge. Some of them have lived on that land for three generations. They’re not interested in the money. They’re organizing a protest for next week.”

I should have been paying attention. This was a 300 million dollar development—one of the largest mixed-use luxury projects Vale Corporation had ever pursued. The land was perfect. Prime location. But right now, all of it felt insignificant.

My mind was somewhere else.

On her.

Camila.

The way her body had arched off the bed when I sucked on her c**t. The broken, desperate sounds she made when I finally buried my fingers inside her. How perfectly she clenched around them, soaking my hands while she came for the third time. The raw, vulnerable look in her eyes afterward — like I’d seen straight through every wall she’d ever built.

For the first time in my 33 years, I was fantasizing about a woman in the middle of a critical board meeting. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had occupied this much space in my head. I didn’t do this. I didn’t get distracted. Especially not by a one-night stand.

My finger tapped a restless rhythm on the polished table.

I had left her a note.

My full name and private number. Something I never gave out. Yet for her, I had.

And she hadn’t called. Not a single message.

My jaw clenched.

She probably woke up, regretted everything, and threw the note away.

The thought irritated me more than it should have.

This was disgraceful.

“…Mr. Vale?” Richard’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Should we proceed with legal action or attempt another round of negotiations?”

I stared at the projected schematics on the screen without really seeing them. All I could see was Camila’s tear-streaked face on the upper deck, the light in her eyes when she kissed me, the way she moaned softly.

What the f**k is wrong with you, Aaron? Get a grip.

Richard kept talking. “If they continue to refuse, we may need to involve the city council and—”

I slammed my hand down on the table.

“Stop it. Goddamn it.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

The entire room went dead silent.

Richard stared at me, his face pale. "Mr. Vale? Is everything alright?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I had no idea what I was about to say. My mind had been so consumed with her that I had completely lost track of the conversation.

I needed to cover. Quickly.

"Good," I said, my voice flat.

Richard blinked rapidly. “I’m… sorry, sir?”

“I said good,” I repeated, more firmly this time.

He stared at me like I had grown a second head. "But... the residents on the land are refusing to sell. We've offered above market value, and they're still not accepting. The project is stalled and they are planning a protest."

I leaned back in my chair, forcing my expression to remain neutral. "I heard you. And I said it's good."

Confusion rippled through the room. Board members exchanged glances.

One of the older board members shifted uncomfortably. “Mr. Vale, with respect, this could delay the project by months. Possibly cost us millions in penalties if we miss the development timeline.”

I slowly turned my head toward him. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

“If they won’t move for money,” I said, “then we’ve been approaching it wrong. People who won’t sell for money aren’t motivated by money. Which means there’s something else they want.” I looked at Richard directly for the first time since the meeting started. “Find out what it is. Community center, heritage designation, relocation package that keeps the collective together rather than scattering them — whatever it is.”

The room grew quiet again.

“They aren’t refusing because of the price. They’re refusing because we’re asking them to leave something behind.”

Richard nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. I’ll have the research team investigate immediately.”

“Good. What’s next?” I said.

Richard quickly flipped to the next slide. “Moving on to HR updates. We’ve begun the recruitment process for the Senior Interior Designer position in the Luxury Development Division. We received over two hundred applications. After the first round of screening and interviews, we’ve shortlisted eight exceptional candidates. They’re waiting in the executive lounge as we speak.”

I nodded once, forcing my mind back to business.

“Good. I’ll conduct the final interviews personally.”

A few board members exchanged surprised glances. I rarely involved myself in mid-level hires. But this division was critical to our upcoming projects. And right now, I needed something — anything — to occupy my thoughts.

Richard continued, “The first candidate will be ready in fifteen minutes. Shall I bring them in after the meeting?”

“No. I’ll go to the interview room when I’m ready. Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped as the board members began leaving the room one after another. Quiet conversations filled the space. Within minutes, the massive conference room was nearly empty.

Richard was the last to leave. He paused at the door.

“Sir.” He called.

“Hm?”

“You seem… distracted today. Is everything alright?”

I met his gaze.

He seemed to realize he’d crossed a line.

“I’ll… speak with the candidates downstairs first,” he said quickly. “Verify documentation, review the final portfolios, and brief them before sending them in.”

“Good.”

He gave a small nod before quietly closing the door behind him.

The boardroom fell silent once more. I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. My reflection stared back at me — cold, composed, untouchable. The same mask I’d worn for years.

But inside, I was restless.

Why hasn’t she called?

I had given her my private number. Very few people in the world had that number. She could have reached out. Even if it was just to tell me to f**k off. The silence was louder than anything else.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply.

This was ridiculous. I didn’t chase women. I didn’t obsess. I f****d them, enjoyed them, and moved on. Yet here I was, standing in my own boardroom, distracted by memories of a woman I’d only spent one night with.

A woman whose family I was planning to crush in the upcoming corporate war with Laurent Holdings.

I should stay far away from Camila Stones.

And yet…

The intercom on the table buzzed softly. Richard’s voice came through.

“Mr. Vale, the first candidate is ready whenever you are.”

“I’ll be down shortly,” I said. “Give me a few minutes.”

I straightened my tie and buttoned my jacket again, slipping back into the ice-cold CEO persona that made grown men nervous.

Time to get back to work.

I pulled open the boardroom door and stepped into the executive corridor. The familiar rhythm of the office immediately settled around me—employees moving with purpose, quiet conversations, the distant ringing of phones.

Exactly the way I liked it.

Without another thought, I headed toward the elevators. The doors slid open. I stepped inside.

As they closed, I pushed every thought of Camila Stones to the back of my mind.

For now, she was nothing more than a distraction.

And I never allow distractions to interfere with business.