Chapter 7 Unyielding Control

"Is that the best you can offer?" My voice cuts through the tension in the room, sharp, cold. The weight of the silence that follows is greater than the costly chandelier above us. I continue to focus on the documents in front of me, aware that my words are having an impact on the man opposite me.

"Mr. Sterling," he nervously starts, clearing his throat, "we think the proposal benefits both parties." If you-"

I cut him off. "If I what? Lower my standards?" I finally raised my eyes to meet his. Although his suit is flawless and his tie is perfectly straight, I notice sweat forming on his temples. There is no need for me to say anything else. The room knows what I'm thinking, what my decision is.

The members of the board sitting around the table share looks, seemingly expecting me to make a move. I recline in my leather seat, observing the man in front of me, who is struggling to hide his anxiety behind a fake grin. He has been speaking excessively, and I am fed up with his excuses.

The man fidgets, pulling at his collar in discomfort. I observe him wriggle briefly, enjoying his unease. This is no longer about business, it's about gaining control. And control is something I refuse to relinquish. His offer is weak. Unimpressive. A waste of my time.

"I...I can assure you, Mr. Sterling, we are prepared to... make adjustments." His voice cracks slightly, and I almost smirk. Almost.

"Adjustments," I repeat, my tone mocking. "You should have led with your best offer, not whatever this is." I flick my fingers over the folder, pushing it away from me.

Silence fills the room. He knows I'm right.

Nathaniel, my assistant, stands by the door, silent but attentive as always. He is wise enough not to interrupt, and he is intelligent enough to understand the cues. The man in front of me is already aware that he is not winning.

"You'll contact me once you have something valuable to discuss." I wave a hand dismissively. "Meeting over."

The man stumbles to his feet, muttering some half-hearted excuse, and scurries out of the room like a kicked dog. Pathetic.

Nathaniel steps forward as the door clicks shut. ""Yet another one meets their demise?"

I remain silent, not responding right away, allowing the quiet moment to linger between us. "What's next?"

"Your schedule is clear for the next hour. I was hoping to discuss the art project you wanted finalization on," he says, his tone measured. "We're still looking for a suitable artist."

"Still?" My eyes flick to him, irritation flaring. "Why has this taken so long, Nathaniel? It's the one part of this plan that isn't locked down. I don't like loose ends."

Nathaniel adjusts his glasses, maintaining his usual calm under pressure. "We've gone through dozens of portfolios, sir. None of them meet the standard you're looking for. Finding someone with the right balance of talent and discretion is proving...challenging."

Challenging. I hate that word. Challenges should be overcome, not indulged in.

"I'm not paying you for excuses," I state with a frosty tone. "Find someone. I don't care what it takes."

Nathaniel nods, his expression unchanged. "Understood."

I rise from my chair, walking to the massive windows that overlook the city. The skyline stretches out below me, a concrete jungle where I've carved out my empire. Every building, every deal, every soul in this city moves to the rhythm I set. But this art project-it's the one thing that's slipped through my grasp. And I don't tolerate failure.

"You mentioned talent and discretion," I say, still staring out at the city. "What's the issue? Are these artists simply incompetent, or are they too afraid to deal with someone like me?"

"A bit of both, sir." Nathaniel approaches the desk, his fingers hovering over the tablet he always carries. "Most of the names that were suggested... well, their work doesn't exactly align with your vision."

I turn to face him, arms crossed. "And what is my vision, Nathaniel?"

He meets my gaze without flinching. "Perfection, sir. An artist who understands precision, control, and exclusivity. Someone who can bring what you want to life without faltering."

"Good," I say, nodding slightly. "Then keep looking. I want this settled."

Nathaniel hesitates for a moment, which catches my attention. He's not one to waver unless there's something worth mentioning. "There was one name... not on any of the usual lists."

I raise an eyebrow. "Go on."

He taps the screen of his tablet and turns it toward me. A painting, stark and arresting, fills the screen. Bold strokes, yet refined. Passion beneath the surface. Controlled chaos. Something stirs inside me as I study it.

"Eva Harper," Nathaniel says. "She's an up-and-coming artist. Not widely known, but her recent work has been getting attention in certain circles."

"Harper..." I roll the name around in my mind, keeping my expression neutral. "What's the catch?"

"She's unconventional, sir. Not someone who seeks out corporate deals or elite commissions. Her focus seems to be on more... personal projects. But if anyone could deliver on what you're looking for, it might be her."

I consider it for a moment, my fingers tapping against the glass window as I weigh the decision. There's something about her work. Something that speaks of precision wrapped in passion, a raw energy barely restrained. It's the kind of balance I want-no, the kind I demand.

"Set up a meeting," I finally say, my voice steady.

Nathaniel nods. "I'll make the arrangements."

"Anything else, Nathaniel?" I ask, settling into my chair, my fingers drumming against the desk as I lean back.

"There's a charity event next week. The one your mother's been involved with," he says carefully. "She's hoping you'll make an appearance."

I close my eyes for a brief second, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Another event, another obligation. All part of maintaining the Sterling image. The perfect son, the perfect heir. It's just a game, a facade I've held onto for a long time.

"I'll consider it," I respond, my voice short.

As he turns to leave, I glance back at the painting on the screen. There's something about it that lingers-something unspoken. I've seen countless pieces of art over the years, but this one... it's different.

And in my world, different can be dangerous.

Just the way I like it.