“Like…80 percent?” She stated as a matter of fact.
I pretended to think, then nodded my head. “Nullify it,” I turned around, extending my hand out to the coat hanger and get my overcoat off it. “Stop worrying. It’ll be fine. I can handle it. Don’t worry.” I shrugged on the coat, turning around to face her, while picking up my phone. “Arrange a car for me up front with a driver.” I gave her a look that showed I don’t want her to even think of tagging along.
I know she’ll just nag me all the way. And besides, I just know she’s worrying pointlessly. Upon reaching the door, as I was about to turn the door knob and walk out, I stopped, suddenly remembering something. I turned around, my gaze falling on Amy who picked up the rose bouquet and was making her way out as well.
“What’s my schedule tomorrow again?” I’d been meaning to check, but since she’s here, might as well brush me up on it.
Amy gave me a deadpanned look, “It’s weekend,” She stated, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. It really isn’t. Time flies when you have your nose buried in your work.
My lips parted. “Oh.”
She rolled her eyes, but carried on nonetheless. “Your high school friend, Helena, is getting married tomorrow.” I made a face at the mention of someone I wouldn’t exactly call my friend. We didn’t get along even back in school so I was already thinking of ways to get out of this. Why would I go somewhere I have no interest, nor am I welcomed?
Amy upon noticing the look on my face was quick to add something she knows I wouldn’t turn down, even if I wanted to. “–Her father is one of the investors for the Gloss Project, so, it’s not a wedding you should rain check. Plus, he sent the invitation.” She remarked. Right, her father is one of the major investors, and he’s always been kind to me so this is the most I can do. “Oh and, don’t forget to pick out a gift for the bride.”
I shrugged. “A red packet should be enough.” I waved it off. “What else?”
“Nothing.” She stressed out, no doubt wanting nothing more than for me to head out to my appointment. She’s always been tight on time. Absolutely hates tardiness-I do too. “It’s the weekend, enjoy it.” Oh, and did I mention she’s hell-bent on making me take time off work? I didn’t? Well, she is.
“Right.” I dragged, nodding slowly. “Alright. See you Monday.” I offered her a small smile, turning the door knob and heading out, not before adding before leaving completely. “Say hi to Nona for me.”
I didn’t hear her response, but I doubt she gave any. I made my way towards the elevator, offering small smiles and nods to the workers that stopped their work to greet me on the way. Upon reaching the elevator, I stepped in alone, as it’s the executive one that only I use, tapping the button that will take me to the lobby.
As the doors closed, I released a small sigh, tapping my heel clad feet on the floor as I waited for the seconds to pass by. In the meantime, I was stuck staring at my reflection in the mirror, Amy’s earlier words coming back to my mind. I made it to Forbes, it’s something I should be proud of and celebrate. And I am, I worked my ass off for it anyway. Only I know the amount of time and energy I put into building this company back on its feet.
The woman that stared at me through those mirrors isn’t the same woman I was two-years-ago. No, this is a woman I am proud to become. And as the doors slid open and I walked out of the lobby, I was a living testament of who I’ve grown to be.
An inspiration. That’s who I am. Isabella Vivien Montague-CEO of Montague Concept. I created a name for myself. And I am proud of that. I earned this, and ain’t no way would I allow anything to come in my way. Watch me make that happen.
2024-01-12 00:07:15
2024-01-13 09:18:25
***
Isabella Montague.
I stepped into the art gallery with my overcoat now slung on my arm, revealing the inner black dress I have on. Soft, classic music plays in the background, as the guests already there take strolls around, observing and admiring the exclusive artworks on display.
There weren’t a lot of people there, only a selected exclusive in the society that got invited to this special exhibition, people willing to splurge thousand…no, millions just to get a particular artwork. And I just happen to be that kind of person as well, because there’s a particular piece that’s the reason why I’m here.
Everything about the gallery screams sophistication, from the soft, ambient lights to the glided frame houses that create an opulent air-a testament and a reflection of the owners of the gallery.
And as I strolled around as well, my gaze lingering on each of the artworks, as I surveyed for that specific one I was there for, rich, mahogany floors lead me through the curated collections. There were intricate flower decorations, giving the place a more inviting air with a touch of nature. Hushed murmurs accompanied the soft music, as words were exchanged between the other guests there with partners.
My steps were slow, curated, as my gaze moved from one artwork to another, with not much of interest. Everything I came across despite its inner beauty and artistic expertise seems to be missing something I couldn’t exactly point a finger at.
A few more minutes of strolling around later, as I slanted my gaze away from the current artwork that somehow stole my attention longer than I intended, my gaze fell on a particular artwork I was there for initially.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.