CHAPTER 2: WINNING HAS CONSEQUENCES
1389 Words
(Lucy’s POV)
What's with that look? I thought, rolling my eyes.
It wasn’t the way he looked at me. It was the way he didn’t look away. And I don’t know why that bothers me.
I should be focused and calm. My morning was perfectly planned—coordinated, controlled, mine.
Now it feels like it’s been shredded into pieces by one man in a black suit.
I can still feel his gaze even when he’s only a few steps away.
Why?
I don’t know this man. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
I have bigger things to focus on.
I had just closed the Riverside deal during the weekend—a contract every major firm in this city wanted. No one expected Mason & Leeds to win; we looked small with fewer years of experience.
I wasn't expecting to smell victory, especially not when a certain Lucas Clarke was involved. Mysterious, right?
I felt the same. But I prepared.
Yes. I know who he is now. I've heard his scores. He's dangerous and wealthy and influential.
Everyone in real estate knows who he is, but he's rarely seen unless he wants to be seen.
Lucas Clarke is the CEO of Clarke Holdings Group.
On paper, it’s a private development and investment firm. In simple terms? He buys what other people are too scared to touch.
Abandoned buildings. Half-finished projects. Waterfront land nobody wants to clean up. Old warehouses. Failing malls. Entire streets of people have given up.
Then somehow… he turns them into gold. Luxury apartments. Office towers. High-end shopping spaces. Gated estates.
If there’s land involved, his name floats around it. He doesn’t just buy property; he buys potential. He buys problems and flips them into power.
And he doesn’t do it alone. He works with politicians, city planners, bank executives, and international investors.
The kind of people who shake hands in private rooms and make decisions that change entire neighborhoods. That’s why everyone knows him.
You don’t build an empire the size of his without people whispering your name in rooms you’ve never stepped into.
He doesn’t attend every event, chase publicity, or give interviews. He appears when something matters.
And when he does… Deals shift. People adjust their tone, and Power rearranges itself.
So yes. I know exactly who Lucas Clarke is.
But I didn’t know it was him in the hallway. At least not yet.
If I had—
No.
That wouldn’t have changed anything.
I push open the conference room door, file tucked under my arm, and force my mind back into order.
“Alright,” I say as I take my seat at the head of the table, setting my tablet down in front of me. “Update me.”
Daniel straightens immediately. Good! He’s learning.
“We finalized the Riverside transfer this morning,” he says, sliding a folder toward me. “Funds are cleared, and the legal has confirmed the zoning adjustment. We’re officially locked in.”
I nod once, flipping it open. “Timeline?” I ask.
“Demolition permits approved. Construction can begin in six weeks—eight max.”
“Six,” I correct without looking up. “We move in six. If we give them eight, they’ll take ten.”
He gives a quick nod and makes the note. Across from him, Amara clears her throat. “There’s been noise,” she says carefully. “Clarke Holdings wasn’t expecting to lose that property. Word is they’ve been positioning for it for almost two years.”
I don’t react or even blink. “Then they should’ve closed faster,” I reply calmly.
A small silence settles over the room. They’re watching me. Waiting to see if I’m intimidated.
I’m not.
“Listen carefully,” I say, folding my hands on the table. “We didn’t steal anything. We outworked them, studied the numbers, and saw what they didn’t. That land was undervalued, and now it’s ours. End of discussion.”
Amara exhales quietly. “Do you think he’ll push back?”
He.
No name was needed. I lift my eyes slowly.
“If he wanted it badly enough,” I say evenly, “he would’ve been in that negotiation room himself.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
For some weird reason, I remember the awkwardness I felt when things slipped from my hands down the hallway.
I built my reputation on preparation and precision. I don’t stumble or get distracted. I don’t fumble papers in hallways like some intern on her first week.
And yet this morning—I did.
I excuse myself after the meeting ends. I need coffee or maybe silence. I just need a breather, something that resets the strange current under my skin. Right now it feels like something is definitely wrong with me.
As I step into the hallway, Philip’s office door is still closed.
Good. I don’t know why that matters, but it does.
My phone buzzes in my hand. It's a call from an unknown number. I decline it, but it buzzes again.
With a flicker of rage across my face, I answer.
“Yes?” I said. But there was an uncomfortable silence across the phone.
Then—“Ms. Morgan.”
My spine straightens before I can stop it.
That voice: it's calm, even, and controlled. I don’t ask how he got my number. Men like him don’t struggle to get access to anything.
“Yes?” I repeat.
“You handled the Riverside negotiation personally.”
This was definitely not a question but a statement.
“And you are? ” I ask, even though I thought it might be him... Lucas
He paused, then said, “Lucas Clarke.”
There it is. The name people lower their voices for.
I lean against the wall and stare straight ahead, forcing my pulse into something steady.
“And?” I say.
There’s the slightest shift in his breathing. He isn’t used to that response.
“I’m curious,” he continues. “What made you believe you could win that contract?”
I almost laugh. “Preparation,” I say calmly. “And the fact that your team underestimated us.”
There was silence, and this time, it stretched longer than necessary.
“You’re bold,” he says. “No,” I correct. “I’m prepared.”
I don't know why I’m enjoying this. Maybe because men like him expect intimidation to work automatically.
It doesn’t.
“You cost me two years of work,” he says evenly.
“And you should’ve protected it better,” I reply.
My heart is beating harder now—not from fear. But from a challenge. This wasn't going to be bigger than I anticipated.
He exhales softly, now sounding relaxed, like he has a smile on his face. “Do you always speak this freely to men who could ruin you?” he asks.
That makes me smile. “I don’t build my life around men who think they can.”
The silence that follows is different. He’s not angry. Then his next word messes with my head.
“I’m still in your building,” he says.
My stomach tightens. “What?”
“I’m standing outside Philip’s office.”
For a split second, my mind flashes to the hallway. The collision. The way he didn’t move when I stepped around him.
“You came for the land?" I asked as my heartbeat spiked.
"Yes," he replied. “And now?” I asked, looking very curious.
There is another pause that is longer this time. “I’m staying because of you.”
My breath catches slightly, enough for him to hear it.
I hate that he hears it. He ends the call.
Just like that.
No goodbye. No warning.
I lower the phone slowly. Philip’s door opens.
And there he is. Lucas Clarke. Standing exactly where he said he was.
His gaze meets mine. There’s no surprise in his expression or apology. Just that same measured look. I straighten instinctively.
I don’t lose.
Not contracts, not composure, and definitely not control. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like something just shifted.
And I don’t know whether I’m the one who made the first move…
Or the one who just became the target.
- Writer
