Chapter 4 FOUR

CHARLOTTE

I looked up at the towering glass façade of Pierce Industries, which loomed above me, the gleaming steel and glass reflecting the summer sky above, and thought about all the choices I had made in life that had led me to this moment, my stomach turning in anxiety.

My fingers gripped my purse tighter, knuckles turning white, and just for a moment, I thought about turning around and heading back to the bakery where everything was simpler.

But the image of The Sweet Haven being torn down to make room for some luxury building hovered in my mind, pushing me forward. As I stepped through the revolving doors, my pulse quickened.

I felt so out of place in the classy lobby with its sleek modern design, with polished marble floors and tall columns. Everyone was dressed in clean sharp suits, and I stood out like a sore thumb in my old floral sundress. Every step my sandals made on the floor echoed through the room, amplifying the uncertainty that was already brewing inside me.

I made my way to the desk, ignoring the voice in my head screaming 'Turn back!' and gave the receptionist my name, in what I hoped was a confident tone. My heart hammered through my ribs as I felt her silently judging me as she typed away on her keyboard, her acrylic nails clacking against the keys.

After a few clicks, she gestured towards the bank of elevators on the side, telling me I was to head to the top floor. I thanked her, my palms sweating as I headed to the metal and glass elevator.

The ride to the top floor felt like forever, my nerves mounting as I got closer to the top floor. Here I was, pressed into the corner of the elevator, on a quest to save my bakery, but all I could think of was pressing the 'Lobby' button and running back to the safety of my bakery.

I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing, but it did nothing to calm my growing nerves. Just as I was about to contemplate escape, the elevator dinged, and the glass doors slid open, revealing a young lady with a slicked-back ponytail, smartly dressed in a sleek black pencil dress that stopped just below her knee.

"Ms. Morgan?" she asked, with a polite smile, her voice calm and professional. I nodded my head, not trusting my voice at the moment. "This way, please," she said as she turned, leading the way through the hallway to a spacious conference room.

"Mr Pierce is currently held up in a previous meeting, but he will be with you shortly." She said, smiling nicely at me before closing the door as she left.

I walked in, taking in the design of the room; stark but elegant, with a view of the city splayed out through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything about the room screamed wealth and probably cost more than everything I own combined.

Time seemed to stretch as I waited, my fingers tapping against my knee nervously. My mind was racing as the doubts that simmered on my way over bubbled up again.

This is a terrible idea. What was I even going to say to him? How was I going to be able to convince him to not tear down the bakery? I wasn't even prepared. All I had was a last-minute pitch that might just come out as desperate pleading.

Just as I was considering flinging myself through the tall glass windows in the room, the door opened, and a tall figure entered.

Alexander Pierce was nothing like I'd expected. For some reason, I had expected an older man, maybe a bit rough around the edges. But this man- he was younger, probably in his 30s, broad-shouldered and effortlessly composed in a well-tailored suit.

His sharp features and piercing blue eyes were striking against his much darker features. Hell, the man looked like he was sculptured by Greek gods. His hair fell perfectly in waves, and it looked so silky and smooth, that I almost reached out to touch it, but I cleared the thought, focusing on what I came to do.

His gaze swept over me briefly before he took his place at the head of the table, opening a folder as if he'd already forgotten I was there.

"So, Ms. Morgan," he began, not even offering a proper greeting, his eyes not lifting from his notes. His tone, just like his aura, was direct and all business, "I understand you requested a meeting; I trust it won't take long?"

My mouth went dry, and I scrambled to collect myself. A beat passed and I still hadn't said anything. He looked up at me, arching a brow, his tone impatient, "Ms. Morgan, I assume you're here to discuss your bakery?"

I felt irritation bubbling in me at his tone, but I pushed it down. "Yes," I said, clearing my throat. "I want to discuss my bakery, The Sweet Haven, and how it might fit into your plans for the Lincoln Park building."

He didn't even glance up. Bottling up my annoyance, I took a deep breath, trying to sound cordial, "It's been there for years, and the community relies on it as more than just a place to get pastries, it's-"

He waved his hand at me, cutting me off, and looking up at me with a steel gaze. "Look, Ms. Morgan," his tone verging on curt. I don't have time for a sentimental pitch about community sentiments. Facts and numbers, that's what matters here. This building has far greater potential than a bakery, no matter how 'established' it might be."

He leaned back in his seat, interlocking his fingers "Lincoln Park deserves something more forward-thinking, more profitable. So, unless you have something to offer that will make sense for us, I suggest you reconsider wasting both our time."

A rush of anger shot through me. Sentimental pitch? Community sentiments? Was he for real? Just who the hell does this guy think he is?

I had been holding my tongue all this while, but the way he dismissed me, like I was some naïve kid made my irritation spike into full-blown anger.

And before I knew what was going on, my mouth was moving, "You know what?" I said, my cheeks flushed. "You're an arrogant, snobbish, pompous brat."

He looked up at me, his brows drawing in surprise, but I wasn't done, "You think you can just bulldoze over people's lives because you have some grand vision? You're an ass who's used to people falling at your feet and doing your every command. You can't just uproot people's lives because they don't fit into your grand scheme of things."

He blinked at me like he couldn't register what was happening, by now, adrenaline was coursing through me as I gathered my things, "I came here to have a mature, business conversation with you, but it seems you're not capable of that. I'm an adult, not some stupid kid, and I refuse to be spoken to as such. So, thank you for your time, Mr Pierce, but I think I'll pass on your condescending ideas of what's worth saving or not."

And with that, I stormed out of the room, not giving him a chance to react or respond. My ears were hot as blood pumped through them. I stormed out of the building and hailed a cab, the reality of what I just did not hit me until I had settled into the cab, and my eyes widened in realization. Holy shit. What the hell did I just do?