Chapter 5 Roland's POV

"I've said countless times that I'll bring a lady home as soon as I find a lady of my standards." I muttered, trying so hard to concentrate on the steering as I drove in the rain.

My mother had been urging me to settling down and move on from Sophie, my ex-girlfriend, who left me to pursue a modeling career in France. The way she pushed this agenda, you'd think it was her life at stake.

The memory of Sophie's sudden departure still stung, like a wound that refused to heal.

"Roland, you're growing older every day, and you definitely need an heir to your business. How much longer are you going to wait for that girl? I'm pretty sure she must have moved on with her life. Why are you being dragged down by old feelings?" My mother voiced out sadly.

"I've heard you, Mom," I replied, trying to end the conversation. I increased the speed and drove into a puddle of water, splashing water on a passerby.

"What was that for?" My mum asked with a deadly stare as her face filled in the screen of the dashboard, her disapproval radiating through the small screen.

"It's just a splash, mom. No big deal." I said, brushing it off.

My mother wasn't having it. "Roland, you just splashed water on someone. You can't dismiss it like that. It's not just about getting wet. It's about showing basic decency."

"Roland Wyatt, stop the car and go apologize," she insisted, her tone brooking no argument.

"Fine, I'll do just that" I replied in frustration, gripping the steering wheel too tightly, as I turned the car around.

The last thing I needed was a lecture of decency.

*****

I went back to apologize but her rude behavior annoyed me and I lost it.

When she slapped me, rage swelled up inside me, my hands turning into hard fists, knowing full well that retaliation would only make things worse-Also, she was a lady.

Later, at the office, my secretary, Derah, interrupted my thoughts. "Good morning, sir. These are the lists of potential interviewees and their designs," she said, presenting them to me.

The sound of my shoes echoed off the tiled floor as I walked past the dresses displayed elegantly. None of the designs caught my eye until I saw one on the left row.

It was a dress made of shimmering, iridescent fabric that shifted colors with every movement, glittering like a rainbow. The deep, rich purple fabric reminded me of the last rays of a setting sun.

I felt an inexplicable pull toward the dress and quickened my pace. "Who made this?" I asked.

"One Miss Blair Rodrigo, sir," Derah replied, her voice somehow tinged with respect for the designer.

"I want her information," I demanded.

After a brief search, Derah handed me her tablet, and I was shocked to see the picture of the woman who had slapped me. Anger surged through me as I rubbed my cheek at the memory.

"Return her design and cancel her interview," I ordered. The sight of her face had reignited the anger I felt that day.

"Sir?" She asked, as she looked at me, earning an arched eyebrow from me.

"Did you not hear what I said? I'm not interested in her designs. Must I repeat myself?" I blurted out, causing the poor lady to flinch in fear.

"But, sir," she hesitated, her voice trembling under my intense gaze. "Her design stands out among the others. We shouldn't lose such a good designer to our competitors. It could hurt us in the long run."

Her words hit home, though I hated to admit it. This girl's design was exceptional-too good to let go, even if she had infuriated me. I couldn't let our rivals benefit from her talent, but I also wanted her to pay for her actions.

Just then, my phone vibrated, pulling me out of my vengeful reverie. I retrieved my phone from my pocket-it was my mother.

As usual, I knew she was calling to remind me to bring home a girl. Suddenly, an idea took shape in my mind.

I quickly answered the call, placing the phone against his ear. "Hello, Mom... I'm at work. I'll call you back in a bit," I stated before ending the call.

I then refocused my attention on Derah, who had braced herself for a typical outburst from me when I got angry.

"Disregard my previous instructions. Send her an email for her final interview, but I want to conduct it myself. Is that clear?" I issued the command, this time with a softer tone than before.

"S-sir?" She stammered in a shaky voice, taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor.

I sighed in exasperation, softly pinching the bridge of my nose and briefly closing my eyes in an attempt to control my frustration before addressing her again. My mom's voice still echoed in my mind, pushing me towards a decision I didn't want.

"You were right... She's talented, and we can't afford to lose her to our competitors. Just email her for the final interview."

"And make sure she's directed to my office when she arrives," I calmly explained as I turned to leave. However, I was interrupted.

"Sent to your office for what, sir?" She inquired, seeking clarification.

I turned, my shoulders slightly raised in a shrug, and replied sarcastically, "Oh, nothing... I just thought I'd invite her for a friendly game of chess and maybe offer her tea too."

As soon as I got into my office, I pulled out my phone from my pocket and called my private investigator-and my best friend, Damien.

"Hello, I want you to find every piece of information on a lady named Blair Rodrigo. I would send you some of her information that I have here with me so it should be easier for you."

"Alright."

As I hung up, a sinister smirk curled my lips. "I'm going to kill two birds with one stone."