He’s the life of the party, and despite being the eldest of the aristocratic family, you’d still find him at clubs and parties. Unmarried at thirty-three, it’s obvious he enjoys spending his nights with countless women rather than settling with one. That to say doesn’t mean he’s entirely irresponsible.
No, it’s the opposite. He’s a party goat at night, but a hella businessman in the day. He knows how to handle his image and keep the press off his ass by doing a good job as the Vice Chairman of the Group-the highest position after the Chairman. He owns it really, for he earned it with his good work.
Doesn’t mean he’s entirely a saint though-the slush fund speaks for itself. What I’m trying to say here is, he’s not stupid nor sloppy to let it be discovered days before the most important meeting that will determine his career.
“Someone obviously did so to screw him over.” My tone was knowing, as I blew out a small breath, eyes turning cold. “Someone whom he stands in the way of when it comes to the company’s position and all.”
A hum came from the other end of the call, Amy immediately picking up on who I’m aiming for. “Do you really think Alex is behind this?” She inquired. Though normally on top of everything and certain of it, when it comes to the Montague family, Amy has a difficult time knowing who is right and who is wrong though it’s blatantly obvious. “Do you think he’s capable of going this low.”
“I know he is.” If I had any doubts before, not that I do, it was confirmed by the text he and video he sent me yesterday. Alex and I have history, and it’s not a good one. Then again, I have a bad history starting with his mother, his brother, down to his wife. “He may seem collected but trust me, he’s more cunning than the loose cannon that’s Sebastian.”
While the latter shows his attitude outright, Alex on the other hand is the quiet but cunning one. His silence fools people, but I know who he truly is. And I’ll be damned if I let him scare me into backing away even though he’s doing a pretty good job at rattling me up. I’ll give him that.
I could tell from Amy’s silence that she has questions which no doubt revolves around what sort of history do Alex and I have to have this cold air surrounding us, but I never elaborated. I never told anyone, for it’s my burden to bear.
“I can’t sit around and put my bet on Dad.” I continued, “I may be on his good terms, but the old man is unpredictable especially when it comes to business.” Which means, hard work won’t be enough to get my rightful inheritance. I need to go the extra mile.
“What do you plan on doing then?”
“I’ll do what I can on my part.” The green light came, allowing me to start the car again. “Starting my getting Pierce and other shareholders I can on my side.” That’s the only reason I’m going to this reception, to convince Pierce into voting for me when the Shareholder meeting comes next week.
He may not have much shares, but every bit counts. And it’ll be in my favor to get as much as I can. This is the one thing I want the most, the one reason I’ve worked my ass off these past two years.
My inheritance, and my position-everything my step mother and her son took away from me. I’ll get it back, and pay them ten times more in the process. And I can only do that by getting the Shareholders on my side to begin with.
Let’s just hope this reception goes in my favor.
***
Isabella Montague.
I hate social interactions more than necessary. Or maybe, that’s my paranoia speaking but can I be blamed here? I have a six days’ deadline into a decision that would determine whether all the work I’ve done these past two years was worth it or not, and instead of working my ass off more, reaching out to as much shareholders as I can, I’m here stuck as a wedding reception I would rather be anywhere but.
I brought the tip of my cocktail to my lips, taking another sip of it as my eyes skimmed the reception hall, spotting Mr. Pierce yet again from where I’m seated at my table along with other guests all too caught up interacting with each other. I’d exchanged a few words with them and a smile out of courtesy, but they soon realized I’m not interested in conversing with them.
I had my gaze pinned on the other man surrounded by friends and family, waiting for the perfect opportunity to approach him again. I could’ve waited until the weekend ends and then set up an official meeting since speaking about business at his daughter’s wedding reception isn’t the most ideal but I’m pressed for time here. Every second matters to me.
Which is why the minute I saw the older men with him have departed, leaving him with his wife, I took that as my cue to approach them. Dropping the cocktail-the one drink I’ve resorted to since I’ve learnt my lesson on taking too much alcohol at important events thanks to a certain someone I’d rather not think about, I pushed myself on my feet and made my way past the crowd to him.
The reception is on full swing, everyone else having the time of their lives-soft music blaring as the couple danced with others and the air was light with conversation ongoing. I kept my gaze fixed on the older man, and just as I was about to reach where he stood, a firm hand took a hold of my wrist, halting me in my steps.
A similar scene from earlier flashed in my mind, along with a face I’d rather not see at the moment. I flicked my eyes close, taking in a deep breath to calm myself as I turned around to face the man. “Christian, if you don’t–” My words halted midway when my eyes met eyes that do not belong to Christian Kingston at all.
Instead of Christian’s honey brown eyes that somehow always radiates warmth, I was met with familiar black orbs I haven’t seen in over two years. My eyes dropped to his hand that took a hold of my wrist, making my eyes narrow almost instantly, the feeling of his rough hand on my contradictory to Christian’s soft ones that admittedly makes me envious and wanting to question what lotion he uses.
How comes I didn’t notice the difference the minute he took a hold of my wrist? It’s so clear. His touch makes goosebumps appear on my skin, and not the good kind, my stomach in uncomfortable knots in contrast to Christian’s.
“Isa…” James’s familiar, throaty voice came, putting a halt to my train of comparison between him and Christian-a man though not on my least of favorite people, admittedly is so much better than he ever will be.
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.