Men Are Prada Shoes

CHAPTER 3

ALINA

"He isn't saying anything about you two online," Serena muttered, her eyes clued to her iPad.

I wasn’t surprised. Not even a little.

Mason was many things, but careless with his image was not one of them. If anything, he guarded his reputation like it was the only thing that truly mattered. And in contrast, I had done a very good job of making it seem like I couldn’t care less about mine. That illusion alone would keep him quiet longer than any warning ever could.

A glass of warm milk got shoved into my face. "You should slow down with the alcohol, you know you have a weak gut," David mumbled as his other hand reached to take the wine glass from my grip, replacing it with the glass of milk.

Grumbling under my breath, I took a reluctant sip of the milk, while he sat down on the sofa next to mine. "I already have eyes on Mason, to make sure he wouldn't try anything to hurt you."

"He wouldn't dare."

His jaw ticked. "It wouldn't hurt to be careful."

Deciding to shift the conversation, I tilted my head toward the iPad he had abandoned earlier. "What do you have on Mr. Sterling?"

Reaching for the iPad, he scrolled through for a few seconds. "For someone with that level of influence, he keeps a very low profile. He rarely attends social events…”

His finger paused briefly on the screen before he continued.

“And the few he does attend?” he added, glancing up at me, “they’re not the kind you can just walk into. Access is… controlled and you can never have access to them at this point.”

I snorted which made him chuckle.

"Bitter truth."

Legs tucked beneath me on the sofa, I clutched the glass with both hands. "There must be an access."

"There is,” he replied. “His sister.”

That got my full attention.

“He’s deeply attached to her,” he continued, leaning back slightly. “And unlike him, she thrives in social spaces. Always out, always seen… the kind of person people naturally gravitate toward.”

So I need to get close to the sister to gain access to her brother. "What is her schedule like?"

"Plays tennis every Tuesday and at the city court, goes to the Hybrid gym every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, visits the One Family orphanage on Sunday, and clubs every Friday at Dark Angels."

Serena let out a low whistle from across the room, finally pulling her attention away from her iPad. “I still don’t understand how you manage to gather this much information in such a short time,” she said, shaking her head slightly.

"So what's the plan?" He asked, ignoring Serena's comment.

"We share similar interests such as Tennis and Gymming, so we will begin with getting a subscription to those centers she frequents."

Reaching for the file beside him, he tossed it over to me. "Those are her likes and dislikes, so be careful what you do and say around her, so you don't create an enemy instead of making a friend."

Rolling my eyes, I gulped down the milk and dropped the glass on the table before reaching for the file. "You don't trust me?" I teased, waggling my brows at him. "I can get anyone to like me."

He stared at me unblinkingly for a while, then quickly batted his lashes and looked away, clearing his throat. "No doubt about that."

Getting off the sofa, I scooped his cat, which I made become closer to me than him into my arms, my red night dress and robe flowing all the way down as I walked towards the stairs. "Let's call it a day. I need the membership cards on my desk by tomorrow."

"You will." Serena assured, recognising her role as my friend and assistant.

"Alina?" David called out softly just as I took the first step up the stairs. I halted, turning to face him, but the expression I saw on his face made my mine slowly squeeze into a frown.

"What's going on? Did Mason post something?"

He shook his head. "It's your dad and your sister."

My fingers tightened around the file in my grip. "My father died when I was five." I gritted out through clenched teeth. "Call that bastard my father again, and we will be having a very serious problem."

He let out a long, tired breath before pushing himself to his feet. “I shouldn’t have called him that,” he admitted.

Serena, not knowing if she should say anything to cool the tension bounced her gaze from me to David.

"What did they want?"

"Money." He replied, pinching the edge of his nose.

Serena scoffed. "Didn't she send them money last two weeks?"

"Apparently, Joyce lost her job, and Lugard wants you to send her money."

"Has he lost his mind?!" Serena snapped, "What business of Alina is it if that b***h loses her job? It's bad enough that sh_"

"How much is he asking for?" I interjected, my fingers crushing the file in my hand.

"Ten thousand."

Serena's eyes doubled in size. "Ten thousand US Dollars?!"

"Send it to them."

David cussed under his breath. "You can't keep sending them money anytime they ask for it"

"Send them the money." I repeated, my nose flaring. Taking a deep breath, I turned and stomped up to my room, banging the door loudly behind me.

********************************

Dressed in a Brunello Cucinelli active wear, I watched Vera Sterling play a match with her friend.

It didn’t take long to read her.

She wasn’t terrible at the game, but she wasn’t intentional either. Her movements lacked discipline, her swings driven more by impulse than technique. It felt like she was simply passing time, not truly trying to win. There was no structure, no hunger in the way she played.

After the match ended, she stepped aside, slightly out of breath, lifting a hand to wipe the sheen of sweat from her skin. And as fate would have it, she walked over and took the empty seat beside me.

"That was a good match." I complimented.

She looked up from her phone, mildly surprised, then gave me a small, polite smile. “Thanks.”

“I think it could be even better,” I added, tilting my head slightly, “if you stopped trying to win points without building a solid foundation first.”

She didn’t react defensively.

Instead, she turned toward me, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she studied my face. “Alright,” she said, intrigued. “Let’s hear it."

"You’re putting too much focus on hitting hard,” I began explaining. “Power isn’t the problem, it’s your timing and positioning.”

“Get into position earlier,” I continued. “Bend your knees more, stay balanced. Right now, you’re reacting too late, so your shots lose control before they even land.”

She nodded faintly, listening.

“And don’t just hit blindly,” I added. “Start reading your opponent. Find their weaker side and work it. Move them across the court, left, right, until they give you something short. That’s when you attack.”

I paused, letting the advice sink in before glancing at her.

“Right now, you’re playing to keep the rally going,” I said softly. “But if you want to actually win, you need to start playing with intention.”

Her lips curved into a small smile. “I’m guessing you’re new here."

Shit. Did I say something wrong? I froze for a heartbeat before replying cautiously, “Yes… I decided to try somewhere different today.”

She gave a small nod, then passed her phone to the woman standing beside her. Rising to her feet, she tilted her head toward me. “How about we play a round?”

Mirroring her smile, I stood to my feet. "Sure."

She sashayed effortlessly towards the court. "And just so you know," she added over her shoulder, "I wasn't playing like that because I don't know how to play, but because I just had a shoulder placement surgery, so I am just being careful."

My mouth dropped open. "I am sorry, I had no idea." How did David miss that?

"It's fine. No one knows except family and close friends, so there is no way you would have had an idea."

We stepped into the field and played for over one hour until she was forced to take a break because of her injury.

"I am Vera," she introduced, outstretching her arm for a handshake. "Vera Sterling, Business Strategist."

"Alina," I replied, accepting her handshake. "Alina Voss, founder of Voss Bag."

Her head tilted. "No offense, but I haven't heard of that before."

I nodded. "That’s understandable. We’re not fully public yet. The brand is still… selective. For now, we create limited pieces, mostly for a few notable personalities.”

That caught her attention.

I saw it in the way her posture shifted, in the subtle spark of curiosity that lit up her eyes. She leaned in just a little, interest replacing hesitation.

"That sounds interesting,” she admitted. “I’d love to hear more about your bags, but…” her gaze flicked briefly around the room, taking in the noise, the people, the lack of privacy. “…this isn’t exactly the right setting.”

Without another word, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a card, holding it between her fingers before passing it to me.

“This,” she said, “is an access card to Dark Angels.” A faint smile curved her lips. “We can meet there, somewhere more private. I’d like us to talk properly. About your bags… how I can get one…” her eyes lingered on mine for a second longer, “…and, of course, proof that these notable personalities you mentioned actually exist.”

"Sure." I took the card from her, turning it slightly between my fingers. "I didn't realize you needed an access card for Dark Angels."

She stared at me like I suddenly sprouted two heads. "That's the VVIP Card. My brother usually books the entire floor himself because he hates the crowd."

"So your brother is going to be there on Friday?"

The smile on her face slowly disappeared. "Is that going to be a problem?" she drawled out. "You are not going to flirt with him, are you?"

Chuckling, I slipped the card into my purse. "I don't even know who brother is," I lied through my teeth with the calmest expression l, "but if you are well convinced that you can afford VOSS Bags, then that means your brother might be open to business too, so other than flirting, I am thinking more business."

She stared at me for a while before chuckling. "I like you."

It is close to impossible not to like me, ever since I began studying humans, it has made it very much easier to read them and know what they like.

"But here is my advice for you. My brother will never discuss business with you if you do not have an outstanding business with him, or an appointment."

Not to worry, I have no intentions of discussing business with your brother on Friday.