Chapter 6 CH. 6

LUCIAN CALDERA

The merger is falling apart.

I skim through the documents again, meticulously dissecting every clause, every line. My patience is stretched thin, but I can't afford to miss anything. Months of work, planning, preparation-all of it unraveling because of a mistake I haven't yet identified.

My father's calls are relentless. First to the office line, then to my phone. I ignore them until I can't anymore. When I finally pick up, his voice cuts through like a whip.

"What the hell is going on, Lucian? Do you have any idea what this failure will do to us? To our reputation?"

I lean back in my chair, letting his tirade wash over me. There's nothing I can say to placate him. The numbers don't lie, and neither does the stench of a crumbling deal.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he demands, his anger rising.

"I apologize," I reply, my tone measured, devoid of emotion.

There's a sharp silence before he hangs up, leaving the line dead.

I press the intercom button on my desk, speaking firmly into it. "Call a meeting with the Mergers and Acquisitions team. Ten minutes."

"Yes, Mr. Caldera," my secretary responds promptly.

I don't waste time stewing. I gather the relevant documents, committing every detail to memory as I make my way to the conference room. When I enter, the air is thick with unease. They're all here, seated around the long table, eyes downcast and shoulders tense.

I close the door deliberately, letting the sound punctuate the silence.

"Does anyone want to tell me," I say, my voice low but cutting, "how we went from being days away from finalizing this merger to this debacle?"

Silence.

I step to the head of the table, remaining on my feet. My eyes sweep across the room, daring someone to speak.

"Fine," I continue, letting the word hang in the air like a warning. "I'll start. This team, tasked with ensuring the success of one of the most significant deals this company has seen in years, has failed. Spectacularly."

A junior executive shifts in his chair, his discomfort palpable. "Mr. Caldera, we received word late last night that the other party has concerns about-"

"Concerns," I interrupt sharply. "Concerns that conveniently arise after months of negotiation? Were these concerns raised during due diligence?"

"N-no, sir," he stammers, his confidence crumbling under my scrutiny.

"Then why are they surfacing now?" I demand, my eyes narrowing.

The senior manager of the team speaks up, his tone hesitant. "It seems they're questioning the financial stability of-"

I cut him off with a glare. "Our financial stability? After months of presenting projections, audits, and reports? Are you seriously suggesting that they believe this company-my company-is unstable? Or is that just the excuse you're feeding me because you didn't see this coming?"

He flinches but doesn't respond.

"I don't pay you to be blindsided," I say coldly, each word deliberate. "I pay you to anticipate problems before they arise. If you can't manage that, then I will find someone who can."

The room falls into a suffocating silence. No one dares to meet my eyes.

"I want a full report on my desk by the end of the day," I continue. "Detailing exactly where this fell apart, who is responsible, and the steps to fix it. If you can't deliver that, don't bother coming back tomorrow."

I turn to leave but pause at the door, glancing back at the team.

"And one more thing," I say, the words dropping to an icy murmur. "If I ever have to hear about another failure from my father before I hear it from my own team, you won't just lose your jobs. You'll lose your credibility in this entire industry."

I don't wait for a response. As I stride back to my office, the tension lingers like a shadow, but my resolve is ironclad.

Failure isn't an option. Not for me. Not for this company.

My secretary, Mr. Hensley, approaches me as I stride back into my office, his steps quick but hesitant. "Sir, you have a lunch meeting with Damian LaRue at noon."

I stop in my tracks, turning sharply to face him. "Damian LaRue?"

He swallows visibly. "Yes, sir. You had instructed me to cancel, but Mr. LaRue was... insistent."

Of course, he was. Damian LaRue wasn't just a competitor; he was the vulture circling above, waiting for the scent of blood. A rival in every sense, LaRue thrived on exploiting cracks in his adversaries' walls.

I glance at my watch. "Fine," I say curtly. "Might as well get it over with. Is Seraphina still at the villa?"

Mr. Hensley nods quickly. "Yes, sir. I confirmed with the staff. Mr. Charles is with her now."

Good. At least one thing is running as planned.

By the time I arrive at the sushi restaurant, thirty minutes have passed. The hostess escorts me to a private room where Damian LaRue is already seated. His dark hair gleams under the ambient light, and his smirk is as smug as ever. He rises as I enter, extending a hand I don't bother taking.

"Lucian," he greets, his voice dripping with faux warmth. "Always punctual. I like that."

I take a seat across from him, resting my forearms on the table. "Get to the point, LaRue. I don't have time for pleasantries."

He chuckles, sitting back down. "Straight to business. I respect that. Though, believe it or not, I'm not here to discuss business."

My brow lifts slightly, skepticism etched on my face. "No? Then what are we here to discuss?"

He shifts in his seat, his eyes glinting with something I don't trust. "I'll admit, I was surprised when I saw the tabloids. 'Lucian Caldera's secret girlfriend revealed.'" He leans forward slightly, his smirk widening. "Didn't know you had it in you."

I don't flinch. My gaze hardens as I meet his stare. "If this is why you dragged me here, consider this conversation over."

He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Relax. I'm just making an observation. It's fascinating, though, isn't it? You and I, so alike in many ways, but a woman like her..." He trails off, his smile lingering like a predator toying with prey.

"Her," I repeat coldly. "Don't bring her up again. My personal life has nothing to do with you."

"Fair," he says with a shrug, though his eyes betray his amusement. "But, Lucian, humor me for a moment. Do you know her well?"

My brow furrows, the edges of my patience fraying. "What are you getting at?"

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "Seraphina Voss," he says, her name rolling off his tongue like a challenge. "Do you really know the woman you're parading around as your girlfriend?"

The room feels ten degrees colder. My voice is steady, lethal. "How do you know her?"

Damian's smirk widens, a spark of triumph lighting in his dark eyes. "Oh, I don't think you'd want me to answer that." He stands abruptly, straightening his tailored jacket. "Out of respect for your wishes, I won't bring her up again."

"Damian," I say sharply, standing as well. "You don't get to walk in here, say her name, and leave without explaining yourself."

He pauses at the door, glancing back at me with a faux-innocent smile. "I'm just respecting your boundaries, Lucian. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Bastard.

Before I can say another word, he's gone, leaving me standing in the private room. My fists clench at my sides as his parting words echo in my mind.

How does Damian LaRue know Seraphina? And why does he want me to question her?

For the first time in years, I feel a seed of doubt take root. It's a feeling I'm accustomed to-and one I don't intend to let grow. Not again.

The villa is quiet when I arrive, a stark contrast to the buzz I left behind in the city

The villa is quiet when I arrive, a stark contrast to the buzz I left behind in the city. I expect to find Seraphina lounging on the couch, complaining about the day, but instead, I hear the click of heels and the measured cadence of Mr. Charles's voice.

Curious, I step inside and pause in the doorway to the parlor.

Seraphina is pacing back and forth in heels that look as torturous as they are elegant, her posture rigid and controlled. Mr. Charles circles her like a hawk, commenting on her posture, the angle of her steps, and the way she holds her chin.

"Back straight, Ms. Voss," he says, his tone sharp. "And take smaller strides. You're not marching into battle."

"I'd prefer that," she mutters under her breath, though loud enough for him to hear.

"No one wears heels this much," she adds, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"Ladies do," Charles counters, unfazed. "Elegance is a language of its own, and you, my dear, are practically illiterate."

Seraphina groans, throwing her head back. "Elegance? I can strut just fine in sneakers, thank you very much."

Charles sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps I should add humility lessons to the curriculum."

It's almost amusing, watching her navigate this game of wills. She's clearly not the most compliant student, but there's a charm to her resistance.

"That's enough for today," I say, stepping further into the room.

She spins around, surprise flashing across her face. "Oh, thank God," she exclaims, almost tripping over her own feet as she moves toward me. "Lucian, do you have any idea how annoying this is? I'm ready to quit. Who even needs etiquette lessons in this day and age?"

I ignore her complaints, pulling a sleek folder from inside my jacket. "Here's the contract I promised to draft."

Her protests die instantly as her eyes widen. She takes the folder from me like it holds the key to her salvation, clutching it with both hands. "You actually finished it?" Her voice is softer now, tinged with surprise.

She starts walking toward the couch, but her heel catches on nothing, and she stumbles forward. Instinct takes over, and I catch her before she falls, my arm steadying her waist.

For a moment, time stills.

Her breath hitches, and she looks up at me, her eyes wide. There's a vulnerability there, unexpected and disarming, and I'm suddenly aware of the feel of her against me, the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her clothes.

She blinks, pulling herself together and stepping back, putting distance between us. "Thanks," she mumbles, her cheeks pink as she retreats to the couch.

I signal to Charles. "You can leave for today."

He nods, gathering his things and leaving the room without a word.

I move to sit across from her as she flips through the contract, her expression shifting as she reads. Her eyes brighten when she reaches a particular section, and I know she's found the clause about the restaurant.

"This is good," she says happily, "I'll sign it later."

I don't respond, watching her instead. The weight of Damian's words remain in the back of my mind, tainting the moment.

She notices, her smile fading as she studies me. "Is something bothering you?" she asks, tapping her heel against the floor absentmindedly.

Before I can stop myself, I ask, "Tell me about yourself, Ms. Voss."

She blinks, clearly not expecting the question. "That's... vague. What do you want to know?"

"Everything," I reply, watching her intently. "Start with how you know Damian LaRue."

Her brow furrows, confusion replacing her earlier ease. "Damian LaRue? I don't know him."

"You don't?" I press, my gaze sharp. "He seemed to know you well enough to mention you by name."

Her lips part in surprise, but she quickly schools her expression. "I don't know him," she repeats firmly. "Why would he say that?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," I say, leaning back slightly. "He implied I might not know you as well as I think I do."

Her jaw tightens, and a flicker of something-hurt? frustration?-crosses her face. "Is that what this is about?"

"Would it be so unreasonable?" I ask, my tone measured. "We barely know each other, and yet..."

"And yet you're ready to believe the word of a man who clearly wants to rattle you," she finishes for me, her voice steady but her eyes stormy.

My lips thin. "It's not about belief. It's about protecting what's mine."

She exhales sharply, closing the folder with a decisive snap. "I don't know what Damian LaRue told you, but if you want the truth, ask me directly next time. Don't make me feel like I'm on trial."

The silence stretches, thick with unspoken tension.

"You're right," I finally say, though the words feel foreign. "But understand this: trust isn't given easily. It's earned."

She nods, her expression softening slightly. "Then let me earn it."