Chapter Three
975 Words
The sun sliced through the glass walls of the Sanders estate like a scalpel, clean, deliberate, golden. Jason Sanders stood barefoot on the stone terrace, shirtless, muscles rigid as he shifted through Tai Chi poses. The world around him was perfectly silent, save for the rhythmic movement of his breath and the distant ripple of the estate’s reflecting pool.
His mind, however, was not silent.
She hadn’t given a name. Just a few words, a glance, and vanished.
He hated mysteries. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Inside the estate, Jeremy stumbled into the kitchen wearing nothing but silk boxers and a wide grin.
“Morning, Monk,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “You sleep, or just levitate all night?”
Jason didn’t answer. He poured himself a green smoothie, passed Jeremy black coffee without asking.
Jeremy took a sip, then sighed dramatically. “So, we gonna talk about her?”
“No,” Jason said, sipping. “We're going to talk about Volture Renewables and a two-billion-dollar acquisition.”
Jeremy leaned against the island, grinning. “Two billion can wait. You saw the way she looked at you?”
Jason didn’t flinch. “She looked at both of us.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy muttered. “But she only walked toward one.”
The Rolls-Royce Cullinan cruised down the West Side Highway, security tailing discreetly behind in a black Range Rover. Inside, the cabin was a cocoon of leather and silence, broken only by the sound of Marla’s voice.
“Meeting’s at ten sharp,” she said from the front seat. “You’ll be facing Elsa Cavill the new CFO, just transferred from the Milan office. She signed off on the Volture deal last week.”
Jeremy glanced up from his phone, confused. “Cavill?”
Jason said nothing. But his fingers tapped the tablet once.
“She Italian?” Jeremy asked.
“Divorced. Financial prodigy. Quiet,” Marla replied. “The bank trusts her. She doesn’t miss details.”
Jason’s gaze darkened slightly.
No, she didn’t.
Madison & Hayes Capital – 58th Floor
The boardroom was made of glass and power. Floor-to-ceiling views of Manhattan, antique conference table in blackened oak, and a digital wall chart tracking green energy market shares.
The Sanders brothers walked in like royalty.
Jeremy, in a deep green Tom Ford suit and no tie… confidence in motion.
Jason, tailored charcoal with an open collar, clean-shaven, unreadable.
Their legal team stood, nodding. The bank’s senior partners entered next.
And then….
The glass door whispered open one last time.
She entered.
White silk blouse. Cream power suit. Hair pulled back into a soft twist. A leather folder in one hand. A smile that said I don’t chase. I choose.
Jason froze.
Jeremy's mouth opened, then closed.
Elsa Cavill walked calmly to the head of the table.
“Mr. Sanders. Mr. Sanders,” she said, coolly. “Welcome to Madison & Hayes.”
Jason stood opposite her, gaze unreadable.
Elsa didn’t blink.
Jeremy tried to smile.
Nobody breathed.
The Meeting
It was clean. Tense. Impeccably professional.
Elsa handled the negotiation with sharp efficiency never stumbling, never stalling. She spoke in numbers, contingencies, and regulatory foresight. Not a single hint of champagne or flirty eyes. Only control.
Still, Jason studied her.
And she knew.
Every word they spoke was double-layered. Every pause full of subtext.
By the end of the hour, hands were shaken. Documents sealed for the next round. The room began to empty.
But Jason lingered.
So did she.
Outside the Boardroom.
Jason stood near the elevator, quiet as always.
Elsa stepped beside him, barely turning her head.
“Tell your brother,” she said smoothly, “next time, don’t lead with money.”
Jason's mouth twitched, half smile, half warning.
“He doesn’t usually have to.”
Elsa stepped into the elevator, eyes locked on his.
“Neither do I.”
The doors closed between them with a soft chime.
Jason stood there, hands in his pockets, heart finally a half-second off rhythm.
Elsa closed the frosted glass door behind her, exhaling softly as the hum of the boardroom faded into quiet.
The room was sleek and personal, white oak desk, curated artwork, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. No clutter. Just presence.
Her assistant, Natalie, stood near the espresso machine, beaming. “You were flawless in there.”
Elsa offered a small smile. “I had good material to work with.”
Natalie passed her a tiny cup of espresso. “Still. They expected a safe face. You gave them a run for their money.”
Elsa laughed once. It was a sound she hadn’t made much lately. She sipped, then turned toward the window, still thinking.
“The Sanders brothers,” she said. “What’s the general opinion here? Bank gossip. Gut feel. I want honesty.”
Natalie hesitated. “Jason’s the mind. Jeremy’s the mouth. Together, they’re a force. No scandals… at least none that ever see daylight. They’re insanely private, loyal to no one, and the second you underestimate them... you lose.”
Elsa nodded slowly, processing.
“And between them,” Natalie added carefully, “Jason’s the one you never see coming.”
Elsa turned back, lips parted slightly.
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed on the desk.
She picked it up… an internal message from the bank’s IT division:
“FYI: Your office network received an unusual trace from an off-grid system. Possibly someone scanning your personnel file. Flagged for security review.”
Elsa stared at the screen.
Her pulse didn't spike.
But her eyes did narrow.
She turned back to Natalie, calm as ever. “Have someone audit our access logs for the last two hours.”
“Is something wrong?”
Elsa smiled again… but this time, it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Let’s just say… someone’s curious.”
- Writer
