Chapter 2 2

Monday morning of Travis was always spectacle. As the sun rose over the city, casting a warm glow over the concrete. Travis, stirred in his opulent penthouse suite. His personal assistant, Rachel, had already prepared his morning coffee, just the way he liked it - strong and black.

Travis stretched his arms above his head, feeling the softness of his silk sheets and the gentle hum of his private elevator system in the background. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, revealing a pair of tailored pajamas that seemed to be designed specifically for him.

As he made his way to the kitchen, Travis couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the life he had built. From a basketball player to becoming one of the richest men in the world, he had worked tirelessly to achieve his goals. And now, as he sipped his coffee and surveyed the breathtaking view of the city below, he felt like he had earned every moment of it.

Rachel greeted him with a warm smile as she expertly prepared his morning routine. "Good morning, sir. Shall I have your car brought around?"

Travis glanced toward the rooftop. "Actually, make it the chopper. I want to beat traffic and be downtown before the city wakes up."

"Understood," she replied, already tapping on her tablet. "Also, Austin confirmed for 12 p.m."

Within an hour, Travis was suited up-crisp, clean, commanding-and headed to the rooftop helipad. The helicopter waited, its blades already humming in rhythm with his pulse. Sliding into the plush leather seat, he barely noticed the lift-off. He was focused. Hungry. Ready.

As the skyline fell away beneath him, Travis gazed out over the city with a sense of awe and ownership. His empire. His creation. His battlefield.

The chopper landed smoothly atop his downtown headquarters. Kendra met him the moment he stepped out, heels clicking on concrete.

"Sir, your meeting with the execs is in fifteen minutes," she said, handing him a folder.

Travis skimmed the front page. "Noted. Let's make it sharp. I've got a second meeting right after."

Inside the conference room, Travis took his seat, cool and composed. The executives straightened up the moment he walked in.

"So, Travis," one said, extending a hand. "What do you think of our latest proposal?"

Travis barely glanced up. "Not good enough. I need a 20% return or I'm walking."

A few exchanged looks-nervous, calculating.

"We can try to push the numbers," one offered, "but we'd be toeing the edge."

Travis didn't flinch. "That's your problem. I want it revised-on my desk by close of business."

The meeting adjourned with quiet nods and stiff handshakes. As Travis stepped out, he felt that familiar pulse of satisfaction. He wasn't just a businessman-he was the boardroom lion. And his rule was simple: you either deal or disappear.

By 10 a.m., Travis Scott, flashing his charming smile, walked into the luxurious conference room at his headquarters with his personal assistant close behind. Today's agenda was clear-finalizing a deal that could shift the tides for his company's next expansion. Seated across the polished oak table was Phoebe, his sharp-minded business partner, dressed in a sleek navy-blue dress that commanded both attention and respect.

"So, Mr. Travis," Phoebe began, sliding a set of documents toward him, "what do you propose we do to seal this deal?"

Travis leaned back with an easy confidence, his southern drawl as smooth as aged whiskey. "Well, Phoebe, I'd say we've done most of the heavy lifting. Just need to fine-tune a few numbers, and we're right where we need to be."

She nodded, then leaned over the table to point out a specific projection-her finger gliding across the paper as she explained. "Right here-this is where I think we can increase the margin by at least 3%, if we cut the rollout cost in Phase Two."

As she bent forward, intent on the figures, Travis's gaze flicked briefly toward her neckline, which the motion happened to reveal with just enough subtle grace. He caught himself and looked back at the numbers, but the trace of a grin curved his lips.

His eyes had momentarily drifted to the curve Phoebe was unintentionally showcasing, but he quickly returned to the spreadsheets-as if it never happened. Still, the distraction was noted... and appreciated.

"Smart move," he said smoothly, tapping the page where her finger rested. "Exactly why I like working with you-sharp with numbers and never missing the fine print."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow, a playful flicker in her eyes. "And here I thought it was my excellent coffee recommendations."

Travis chuckled. "Well, that too. But your spreadsheets are much more distracting."

Their eyes met across the table for just a second too long.

Then, like clockwork, they both looked back at the deal.

All business. For now.

Wednesday evening swept in with elegance and glitter, and the city's elite gathered beneath chandeliers and camera flashes for one of the season's most talked-about events-a charity gala hosted in the heart of downtown. The venue shimmered with gold accents and fresh roses, while the scent of expensive perfume and ambition floated in the air.

A sleek black limousine eased to a stop at the curb, drawing the attention of photographers clustered by the entrance. The door swung open, and Travis Scott stepped out, every inch the mogul-tailored tuxedo, sharp jawline, and that unmistakable aura of someone who owned every room he walked into.

He adjusted his cufflinks and took a long look at the red carpet ahead, already buzzing with champagne-fueled chatter and laughter. With the grace of someone who'd done this a hundred times before, he moved through the crowd, greeting familiar faces, nodding at rivals, shaking hands with board members who used to underestimate him.

Near the bar, he spotted two familiar figures-Austin and Jamie-already sipping champagne and talking too loud, as usual.

"Y'all look like trouble," Travis said as he approached, his voice low and teasing.

Austin turned with a grin. "We are trouble. Rich trouble tonight."

Jamie lifted her glass. "Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence."

Travis smirked. "Had to close a few million-dollar gaps first. You know how it is."

"Don't be humble," Jamie rolled her eyes. "He's here now, which means somebody's about to fall in love with him for the night."

Jamie raised her glass. "To big wins and billion-dollar playboys."

Austin chuckled, lifting his own champagne flute. "To Travis, the same dude who once begged Coach Lewis to bench him so he could flirt with the cheer captain-and now he's out here running the world."

Travis laughed, clinking both their glasses. "Some things change. Some things just evolve with a better suit."

As their glasses clinked and laughter circled between them, Travis's eyes wandered past the glittering crowd. And then he saw her-that blonde. A vision in satin, poised mid-laugh, holding a martini glass like it was an accessory to her elegance.

His smile faltered for half a second, not from nerves, but that kind of arresting curiosity that always came just before the chase.

"Will be right back," he said casually, eyes still locked on the woman. He gave Jamie a pat on the back and barely saw her roll her eyes.

"Oh no," Jamie groaned. "Not again."

Austin followed Travis's gaze and let out a knowing laugh. "Damn. Here we go. This man's about to make headlines again."

"Oh lord," Jamie rolled her eyes. "Travis, you're so predictable. Spot a pretty woman and suddenly you're Casanova in a suit."

"Shut it, Jamie. I just want to talk."

"Sure you do. Just another notch, right?"

"I'm not that bad," Travis defended. "I've had serious relationships."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "You mean the supermodel from Paris? The one who dumped you mid-vacation?"

"Okay... maybe not that one."

He looked toward the woman again. "But this one... she's different."

Jamie scoffed. "Right. And you're just going to flash that billion-dollar smile and sweep her off her feet?"

"That's the plan."

"You're a walking headline, Travis."

He grinned, raising his glass. "And yet, you still like me."

"I tolerate you," she said, clinking her glass with his.

As Travis made his way toward the blonde, They both shook their heads. Same old Travis. Charming. Dangerous. Unstoppable.

Travis stepped into his luxurious mansion, surrounded by exquisite decor and expensive artwork. He was a man who loved the finer things in life-and made no effort to hide it.

As he walked through the foyer, he spotted his assistant, Rachel, waiting in the living room. She was beautiful, with long, thick hair and captivating eyes that always seemed to hold a secret. Travis had hired her a few months ago and, though he tried to keep it professional, he couldn't deny a growing fascination.

"Hi, Mr. Travis," Rachel said with a smile. "I've got papers for you to sign-the new real estate development."

He took them with a nod. "Thanks, Rachel. I'll get to them later."

She hesitated, then asked, "How was the annual gala, sir?"

"Loud, glittery, and terribly predictable"

Their eyes met. The tension lingered. Travis read her body language easily-if he wanted to cross that line, he could. But he wouldn't. Not now.

He flashed her one of his signature smiles and headed upstairs, feeling her gaze linger behind him.

Women, he thought. Not such a hard nut to crack. In his eyes, they were predictable-give them money, luxury, attention, and good sex, and they'd follow. Most of them, anyway.