DeLuca's Sin

The Board Meeting

(Luciano's POV)

I arrived at the company a bit later than I intended to. I walked into the board room, everyone's gaze on me, of course, Dante would never start the meeting until I was present. Some of their eyes were shooting daggers in my direction, but I didn't care. I walked gracefully and steadily towards my seat.

Currently, eleven people were sitting around the obsidian table at the center of the room. Dante Reed, my best friend turned brother, was sitting at the end of the table. We've known each other since forever, and I entrusted the CEO position to him while I operated behind the scenes. No one at the table or the company knew I was the real owner of the Saneside Group.

Dante was lounging in his chair, the picture of studied composure, with a sharp smile on his face. I sat beside him on the right, silently smiling away at my phone. Alyssa had just sent me a cute sticker when, suddenly, someone said loudly;

"We can't afford this design," a woman snapped, slamming her pen down. I looked up to see Victoria Trent, the Chief Financial Officer, in her mid-forties. The woman was huge and had a big mole at the corner of her lips.

Everyone was currently looking at the draft of the meeting's agenda with AIRPORT PROJECT boldly written on the cover page.

"The steel alone will bleed us dry. I say we use cheaper material—" she continued.

"And have the world call us cheap?" Anthony Stone, the Chief Operating Officer, shot back. "We're building the face of the city, Victoria, not a temporary warehouse."

I spoke calmly, my voice cutting through the noise and murmurings that had started to erupt.

"Why not use prefabricated steel composites?"

The room went instantly still.

"They're cheaper long-term, structurally sound, and can be pre-cut to spec. We'll save eighteen percent and finish four months early." I broke down the complex issue into simple, undeniable facts.

Even Dante paused his steady pen tapping. Victoria blinked, startled.

"You're sure of that?" she asked.

"Do your research," I said dismissively.

The room went silent, and slowly everyone started nodding in agreement.

"Efficient, as always," Dante said with a half smile. "Okay, that's settled then. I believe there are no other contrary suggestions, so let's move on," he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Victoria did not look happy at all. If looks could kill, I would have been dead. She had wanted to say something else, but with Dante adopting my suggestion, she had no option but to swallow her words.

The projector was then turned on, the blue light it emitted hitting our faces. On the screen was an unsigned proposal stamped with a foreign crest.

"Our next potential investor," Dante announced. "They're offering triple the retainer."

The table stiffened. Felix Monroe, the company's biggest investor, frowned. "No listed partners? That's an invitation to scandal."

"Or to jail," Gregory Thorne, the Chief Legal Officer, added. "Could be a laundering front."

I watched the data scrolling down my tablet. There were hidden routes of money and fingerprints I don't think any of them saw.

"Rejecting an investor without verifying their background is bad business," I stated, quiet and deliberate. "We don't say no, we just make them show their face."

I slid the tablet across the table. "Their trail runs through a London shell. Legal, concealed, but traceable. Cross-check the board registrations—you'll find the principal in a week."

Dante chuckled softly. "You've done your homework."

"I make it a habit," I said. The air cooled. Victoria leaned toward Nathan Frost, the head of Public Relations. "How does he know that?"

The young man, who looked to be in his early thirties, the same age group as I and Dante, didn't answer. His pen halted decisively as his calculating eyes swept over the room, taking in every detail with unwavering focus.

"Then I believe we would do just that," Dante said.

Marcus Dray, Head of Innovation, stood next. He was a brilliant young man, but too eager for approval. He gestured to the hologram hovering above the table—a delicate, fancy building made of glass and steel, spiraling skyward.

"This will redefine modern architecture," he declared.

Victoria groaned. "It'll redefine bankruptcy."

"And it violates seismic code." Leonard Graves, the political liaison, muttered. He usually stayed quiet during meetings, I was already beginning to think he was mute.

I stood up slowly, calmly. "It's beautiful," I said, circling the projection. "But beauty means nothing if one tremor brings it down."

Marcus blinked, deflating. "So what—scrap it?"

"Reinforce the base with carbon mesh. It's lightweight, flexible, and invisible to the eye. Your design stands, and so does your vision."

He swallowed, nodded in relieved defeat; he had probably not thought in that direction.

Recognition flickered across Dante's face as he said, "As expected." Without hesitation, he added, " The government wants a monument in front of the terminal, something that represents the city."

Marcus pitched a beautiful sculpture of spiraling glass. Anthony proposed a grand plaza, hollow and safe. Victoria called both financial suicide. I started to wonder if that was all she thought about. Yes, she handled the finances, but if we had been cutting down costs like she keeps suggesting, we wouldn't be where we are now.

Shaking my head, I leaned forward and picked up a pencil. "A monument is remembered for its purpose, not it's price tag," I said.

I drew one clean line across the corner of the draft—an arch mirroring the city's skyline. The room went dead silent all over again.

From a corner, I heard the secretary whisper, "He doesn't even need a pen to win."

Dante's gaze lingered on me. And as if in reply to the remark, he said softly, "He just needs a reason."