Desire Of The Elite

CHAPTER 9

Ethan hadn't seen Paul since their last exchange at the board meeting. Paul still hadn't sent an account of the mismanaged funds. Ethan needed to send their father an annual report on the group's finances, completed projects, unfinished projects, and upcoming projects. He stared at his clock and called his secretary. “Magdalene, please call Paul's office and inform him of an emergency meeting. He should be in this building within the next 30 minutes.” “Yes, sir.” His office was adorned with mahogany paneling, exuding a traditional sophistication. The large executive desk sat near a glass window that reflected the city's magnificent skyline. A beautiful Egyptian rug adorned the floor beneath the desk, and an antique shelf held books, awards, and a portrait of Ethan and his mother. On the walls, a carefully curated collection of modern art was displayed. Ethan sat deep in thought. It had been a week since his encounter with Olivia, and she still occupied his mind. His office telephone beeped. “Sir, Mr. Paul's office called back, stating that if what you want to discuss is so important, you can drive to the hotel yourself.” “He said that?” “I'm just quoting his secretary, sir.” Ethan dropped the telephone with fury, picked up his jacket, and stormed out. Paul's office “Hey, lovely Teresa, how are you?” Paul was on a call when Ethan barged in. “You must be out of your senses!” Ethan's words echoed in the office, laced with anger. “Love, let me call you back; an intruder just walked in.” Paul sighed and placed his cell phone on his desk. “You've lost all sense of decorum. You think you can stroll into my office and shout like an animal.” Paul propped his legs on his table, arms crossed.

Ethan's jaw tightened, teeth grinding, sweat beads dotting his forehead, and his face burning with anger. Yet, he resisted giving in to his fury, focusing on maintaining his composure as he spoke deliberately, one word at a time.

"I won't partake in a verbal dispute with you." I'd rather teach you a lesson with a good beating, but I won't do that either; you wouldn't survive it.”

Ethan chuckled and settled into one of the office couches. “Did you come here to threaten me?” Paul stood up from his seat. “Don't you recognize a threat when you see one? It's been over a month since I asked for a report on the mishandled funds, and I've received nothing.” Paul laughed and regarded Ethan with disdain. “I don't owe you any reports, Ethan. You're not my boss. Go to hell and rot.”

"Ethan, I owe you no reports. You don't work for me. Gorot and go to hell.” He grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door.

Ethan's temper flared, He rose from the couch, “You might not see me as your boss, but I assure you that your position in this company wouldn't exist without our father's generosity.”

Paul halted near the door, his hand gripping the handle. He pivoted to confront Ethan, a tempest of emotions sweeping across his countenance.

“Generosity? "I mean, aren't we in this together, if that's how you want to put it?" Ethan, you've been shadowing our father's path for too long." You need to come down from your high horse.” As the tension in the room continued to escalate, it was clear that this argument was only the tip of the iceberg in their ongoing power struggle. “There won't be an office left when you return from wherever you think is more important than this conversation. Mark my words!” Ethan stood up and walked past Paul, who remained frozen in place.