Chapter 3 The Devil's Bargain

The silence in Nicholas Sterling's office was suffocating. Lana sat stiffly in her chair, her fingers clutching the armrests. She tried to distract herself by observing the details of the room. The glass walls reflected the muted glow of the city outside, casting soft patterns of light on the polished floors. Everything about the space screamed wealth and power, from the hand-carved shelves lined with leather-bound books to the faint aroma of expensive cologne lingering in the air.

But even the luxurious surroundings couldn't distract her from the storm brewing in her chest. Her mind raced with possibilities. Who was that woman? And why did she demand to see Nicholas with such urgency?

Lana's gaze shifted to the folder on the desk. Her proposal sat there, untouched, like a ticking bomb waiting to explode. She wanted to reach over and flip it open, to force Nicholas to look at it. But she knew better. The man thrived on control, and she couldn't afford to appear desperate.

The door swung open suddenly, and the sound startled her. Nicholas strode back in, his expression colder than she'd ever seen it. The woman didn't follow, but the tension in his jaw hinted at a conversation that had not gone his way. He crossed the room in long strides, each step deliberate, his polished shoes clicking against the floor.

Lana opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat when his gaze landed on her. His blue eyes were sharper than before, like shards of ice cutting through her composure.

"We'll continue," he said, his tone clipped. He sat down and gestured for her to proceed, as if nothing had happened. But the change in his demeanor was impossible to ignore.

Lana hesitated, her confidence faltering for the first time. She forced herself to refocus. This was her chance, and she couldn't let the mystery woman or Nicholas's mood derail her.

"I want to start with the numbers," she said, sliding the market analysis toward him. "This section highlights the projected revenue streams for the development, broken down into residential, commercial, and recreational sectors. The data shows a growth rate of-"

"Spare me the preamble," Nicholas interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "I can read. Tell me what's not in the report."

Her mind scrambled for an answer. She had prepared for questions, but this was something else entirely. His gaze never left her, waiting, challenging.

"It's not just about the numbers," she said finally, her voice steady. "It's about the story. This project isn't just another investment-it's a symbol of what your brand stands for. Prestige. Innovation. Vision."

Nicholas tilted his head, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the desk. "Vision is a vague word, Miss Daniels. Be more specific."

Lana leaned forward, her heart pounding. "This development isn't just for the elite. It's for people who want to belong to something greater than themselves. A space that redefines what it means to live, work, and thrive. Imagine a community where technology and sustainability coexist seamlessly. Where every detail, from the architecture to the landscaping, tells a story of progress."

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't look away. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of interest, a crack in his icy exterior.

"What's the catch?" he asked, his voice low.

"There's no catch," she replied quickly. "Just an opportunity. But only if you're willing to take the risk."

The room fell silent again, the weight of his scrutiny pressing down on her like a physical force. Lana's pulse thundered in her ears. She wanted to look away, to escape the intensity of his gaze, but she held her ground.

Finally, he stood and walked to the window, his hands in his pockets. The city stretched out before him, a sea of glittering lights against the dark sky. He stared out for a long moment, the silence stretching thin.

"You remind me of someone," he said suddenly, his voice softer than before. "Someone who believed they could change the world if they just worked hard enough."

Lana blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected vulnerability in his tone. She opened her mouth to ask who, but the words never came.

"Most people don't understand what it takes to succeed," he continued, his back still to her. "They think it's about passion, about drive. But it's not. It's about sacrifice. About making choices you'll regret for the rest of your life."

He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Are you ready for that, Miss Daniels? Are you ready to give up everything to make this work?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Lana's throat tightened. She thought of her mother, the clinic, the lives depending on her success. She thought of the sleepless nights and the countless sacrifices she had already made to get this far.

"Yes," she said quietly but firmly. "I'm ready."

Nicholas watched her for a long moment, then nodded once. He walked back to his desk and sat down, flipping open the folder. The sound of pages turning was the only noise in the room, but to Lana, it was deafening.

"You have potential," he said finally, closing the folder. "But potential isn't enough. I'll give you two weeks to bring me something tangible-something that proves this project is more than just an idea. If you can't, this conversation is over."

Relief and dread crashed over her in equal measure. Two weeks wasn't much time, but it was something. It was a chance. She nodded, swallowing hard. "I won't disappoint you."

"Let's hope not," he said, his tone cool. He stood and walked to the door, opening it for her. "Good luck, Miss Daniels. You're going to need it."

As she stepped out of the office, her knees felt weak, but she forced herself to keep walking. The weight of his expectations pressed down on her shoulders, but beneath it all, a spark of determination burned bright.

The elevator doors slid closed behind her, and she allowed herself a moment to breathe. The hard part wasn't over. It was just beginning.