License to love

I never envisioned myself seated in an opulent chair, facing a desk adorned in the attire of CEOs; luxurious suits, crisply ironed shirts, and an excessively long tie that has become my norm. Here I am, positioned at the front of my lavish dark mahogany desk, mapping out the future of GLAZE GLOBAL CORPS, the company bestowed upon me by my still very much alive father, George Winchester. Despite any personal grievances I may hold against him, within the walls of this corporation, familial matters hold no significance.

Glancing out at the cityscape through towering windows, the weight of the empire I now preside over settles upon me. I always anticipated that stepping into my father's shoes would present a challenge, but I was unprepared for the world of concealed motives and alluring temptations that would accompany running the company-- speaking of temptation---

"Craig, Craig!" I hear a voice beckoning me. I swiftly turn to find Veronica. "Your thoughts have been wandering lately. How can I assist you?" she inquires, tenderly placing her hand on my cheek. I grasp her hand and gently guide it back to its place.

Veronica Daniels, my astute former lover, who now serves as my personal assistant. We have collaborated for over a decade, and despite her persistent attempts to rekindle our romance, my heart has nothing left to offer.

"How are things progressing?" I inquire, clasping my hands behind my back and averting my gaze.

She sighs, recognizing that she must not prioritize her selfish desires over my father's life's work.

"I will inform you once it is prepared," she replies, seemingly anticipating a response from me. Knowing well of my disappointing nature, she turns and exits the room.

I release a deep sigh, reclining in my chair and indulging in unnecessary contemplation. My phone vibrates, revealing a message from Owen, my driver. Suddenly, I recall an impending obligation and swiftly gather my jacket and belongings before heading out. The day is only halfway through, yet I am already drained. I dread the remainder of it.

I have concluded my tasks for today. This week has been tumultuous, and I hope the weekend holds some solace, for my father's condition continues to deteriorate. The mere thought of that man stirs intense emotions within me. I cannot afford to lose the one anchor keeping me grounded. I realize that someone has entered the shop.

Raising my eyes, I behold a strikingly handsome man with thick, dark curls adorning his head. His countenance appears meticulously sculpted, as though meticulously crafted over the weekend. I observe the movement of his lips, full and robust; their texture remains a mystery. His steps are deliberate and graceful, reflecting practiced precision. He approaches me in the manner typical of any visitor to the café.

"Uh..."he coughs softly, attempting to break the silence.

"Good evening. How may I assist you?"I inquire, feigning busyness. He glances at his phone before responding.

"I'll simply have a cup of coffee," he replies, his attention divided.

"Has it been a busy day for you?"I inquire as I prepare his order. Momentarily taken aback, he eventually relaxes his features.

"Yes, somewhat,"he smiles, "I am Craig, by the way,"extending his hand.

In a moment of folly, I extend my hand, which had been occupied with preparing his coffee, only for it to slip and fall to the ground, akin to all my aspirations. I possess a talent for marring things, perhaps the only thing I excel at is disrupting this prominent figure.

"My apologies, Mr. Craig. Please accept my sincerest regrets."I struggle to fathom the concept of achieving perfection, a pursuit that inevitably leads to misfortune, despite my perpetual optimism.

"No need for apologies. What was your name again?"he asks, his voice exuding further tranquility than before.

I admire him and realized we were in such close proximity that I could practically sense the warmth emanating between us. "Blaire,"I greeted with a slight smile.

"Well, Miss Blaire, I father that this city --Venice City, truly needs more beautiful individuals like you to enhance their day, much like you do. I could enumerate countless reasons, but time would elude us if I were to do so," he remarked with a smirk.

"It appears time is not on your side as it seems. Your ride awaits," I responded, placing my hands on my hips, which clearly caught his attention.

"I can only envision one individual perfect enough to uh, ride me, Miss Blaire," he began to exit, pausing briefly and turning his head, "and I hope she is adept at handling such a task, as it demands swiftness." With that, he departed. It was like he was never here, except that he was now registered in my mind.

Gazing down at the shattered cup, I realized I might meet a similar fate if I don't navigate this situation carefully. After tidying up the mess, I turned towards the counter to find that he had generously left a tip. Oh, Blaire! What a day, what a man!

★ ★ ★

I couldn't shake off my encounter with the lady from the cafe. Her beauty was simply captivating, and her fragrance evoked memories of my mother. I struggled to contain my inner desires, lest I act impulsively as I have in the past.

I placed her, Veronica, in my thoughts and my company, as a reminder of my past mistakes, a constant warning of the repercussions that would follow if I were to make hasty decisions again.

She is unique, that much I know. It dawned on me that I failed to obtain her contact information, and I let out a deep sigh. I doubt I will have a moment of respite anytime soon, but one thing is certain - she belongs to me, and what is mine, I always attain. I am coming for you, Blaire.

I paused and looked at Helen. We've been on this conversation for a while now. Today's my day off anyway, so I decided to FaceTime my good friend, Helen Audrey. We've been friends since highschool and so happens to be dating my best friend, Carlos Anderson.

"So, what about you, B, are you seeing someone? Don't tell me no 'cause if you do, I'll come down there and find you one. You know me." Helen snickers. I know her too well to lie to her even though she knows already.

"Helen, you know I don't have time for all that. I'm working my ass out to make ends fucking meet. I wish I could just sew them together to make it right." And then I remember how I was sheepishly staring at that Craig guy yesterday. I try and convince myself that it was nothing and just the coffee messing with me.

"I know that look, Blaire!" She yells, " you may not be in a relationship, yet but you sure have someone you wanna fuck with. I know it, Blaire, you can't lie to me." She giggles like we used to years back.

I turn the phone over and smile a little, making sure I wasn't letting Helen in any Intel about my social life currently. "Well, you can think what you want, Helen. I'm not the one cuddling and smooching with a sleeping dude right now." I giggle a little which makes her turn the phone over too. I couldn't help but laugh.

My phone suddenly rings and I was surprised to see it was my boss. I was reluctant at first to pick it but then I just had to. "I'll call you right back, baby." Helen says. I quit FaceTime-ing with her and then pick the incoming call.

"Good day, Mr. Smith." I say slowly.

"Hello, Blaire. Sorry to disturb you but there's a man here about 6'5, looking for you. Are you familiar with any Mr. Winchester?" As soon as I heard the words, my heart began racing fast. Fast enough to drive myself, of course, crazy. Lord knows how much I want to see his gorgeous face but at the same time, I don't want another broken cup of coffee.

I realized I left him hunged up on the line so I arranged my thoughts and said it carefully.

***

"I'm sorry but she seems to be ill at the moment. Maybe she'll get back to you when she's better, Mr. Winchester." Blaire's boss says confidently seeming not to care about who I am.

I remain composed and unfazed. Although, I haven't dealt with much of her type but I know someone who does. And so, the game begins.

"Okay. Let's do it my way, Mr Smith." I smile, showing off my straight, glinting teeth, "I too fancy the concept of business. Afterall, we're both owners of a business."

***

It's afternoon already. Spent most of my time with my Dad. My mind races back to when my boss had called. I just knew something like that would occur. I doubt Craig would have bought the lie. He's crazy enough to do crazy things, after all, he has all the resources at his disposal and I wouldn't be surprised if he comes knocking on my door one day. I just thought moving to Venice City would be a great start; to start things anew.

Now it so happens that I'm fucking it up with some billionaire icon--such a cliche.

My dad wakes up, his eyes searching for me--i guess, he stretches his hands and I reciprocate, locking my fingers with his. I look into his eyes and smile.

"Hey, B." He shoots a smile back, slowly and sighs. I place my hands on his chest.

"I'm here Dad. How're you doing?" I ask. Although I know what the current state looks like but hey, it's Miss. Optimistic. I just can't afford to lose hope. "I hope you've found yourself a help-mate here, a favourite one, that is." I giggle.

He looks at me and scoffs. "You look just like your mother, Blaire." His tone becomes serious suddenly. I look away and blink more than necessary. He catches on quickly. "Don't let that guy mess you up like your mother did to me, honey. You don't toy with the heart, it's fragile, just like yours." He continues.

"I guess that's what we have in common." I look at him. "and many more I'm yet to discover." I shift uncomfortably.

"How're you doing at work? I hope you're making 'em customers trip on that flavory coffee of yours." He asks sharply.

"Well..." I begin, "I actually broke one yesterday." I play with my legs shyly.

"Ha-ha!, so you let 'em customers trip you instead?" He laughs mockingly. I let him in on it, glad to see him happy, smiling like he so deserves. "You see...when I was in my prime honey, I made them all trip even without looking." He turns on his side on the bed.

"Oh Dad! C'mon." I laugh deeply, still picturing Craig at the back of my mind.

"Well, yeah. Our ex-es be missing alot. Talking about that, you heard from Ken?" He asks.

"Talked with Helen earlier actually. Carlos is in good hands with her." I rub my eyes.

"C'mon baby, don't play that game with me. I know you two had chemistry back then. I mean, he was gonna marry you until you suddenly decided to go on a break with him." My dad remembers all too well. Ken Evans was my ex, is actually.

"Yeah, I couldn't be in a healthy relationship when my parents weren't best of lovers." I retort angrily. "I suspected but because of my personality I remained hopeful that you two would sort it out and then you just had to let her go. Now, she's with another man living " happily ever after" that's very rich Dad.

My dad doesn't say anything for sometime as if he had nothing to but I knew that the next words would weigh the heaviest.

"Sometimes you just have to let go of someone you love. Remember that. Blaire." He says then turns his head away from me.

"I won't let you go, Dad." I squeeze his hands tightly yet gently.

***

A sleek sports car comes into view, pulling up to the front of my mansion. The car door opens, and revealing the dynamic Tom still in his early 20ss, dressed in casual shirt and pants. He steps out, taking in the grandeur of my mansion with a wide smile.

The grand double doors of my mansion opens, presenting me with the grand freestyle walk of Tom Owen--Famous playboy, model and actor.

He glanced at my luxurious foyer with gleaming marble floors and stylish decor. The sunlight streams in, illuminating the space. He walks to the bar while I make my descent down my grandiose spiral staircase. I clap my hands seeking his attention by the time he turns around, he swing back with two glasses of expensive wine with a bottle in his arm.

"If it isn't the famous and my most favourite Winchester." He greets after chugging down the wine. He smacks me on the arm and gave a warm hug. "What a home I envy."

"You haven't changed a bit, Tom." I smile, taking a sit.

"Oh, my friend, that I know, that I... know!" He offers me a glass, "but do remind me to show you the change in my new garage in Paris." He smirks. " I'll take you on tour sometime."

He stands up and then arranged himself. "So, to what do I owe this pleaure?" He asks, putting on the act of a waiter.

"There is no rush my friend. Although, matters of the heart requires urgency and due attention." I begin. Tom smiles and then sits back, crossing his legs. I know how fast he catches on.

"Spare me the history and get me the present alright, Chase?" He reminds me of the name he gave to me, more of a nickname. I was once a master at getting things I wanted in a short span of time. "What is her name?"

"Blaire. And I need you to do one last act. You know the game." I conclude. He moves to stand up but I place a hand on his shoulder with a gentle reminder.

"But remember," I look up at him, with utmost seriousness, "she's mine."

The morning sunlight filters through the partially opened blinds, casting a soft glow into the room. I stretch, feeling the warmth of the sheets against my skin, and reluctantly rise from the bed. The cool touch of the bathroom floor greets my bare feet as I shuffle over to the sink. I splash my face with cold water, the abrupt shock rousing me more effectively than any alarm could.

Standing before the mirror, my gaze fixated on my own reflection. My emerald eyes stared back at me, piercing and perceptive, as if they held the key to my innermost thoughts. I traced the contour of my cheekbone with a finger, observing how it caught the light perfectly. My straight nose and full lips were in exquisite harmony, each feature complementing the other.

Brushing aside a stray strand of hair, I admired its luscious chestnut hue and how it framed my visage. My complexion, velvety and luminous, seemed to exude a soft radiance in the morning light. Adjusting my blouse, I appreciated how it accentuated the gracefulness of my figure.

There was a comforting reassurance in this daily ritual, this moment of self-contemplation. It served as a reminder of the resilience and elegance I embodied, even in the face of an uncertain day--a trait I shared with my father. Offering a small, approving smile to my reflection, I whispered to myself, "You possess the strength to overcome this," feeling a quiet confidence settle within me.

Running a brush through my hair, the gentle bristles gliding through the tangles effortlessly. Subsequently, I applied a swift dab of moisturizer and a hint of makeup, a routine that prepared me to confront the world.

Before heading to work, I delivered a meal to my father. A blue sports car zoomed past me, narrowly missing my feet. I instinctively recoiled, adrenaline coursing through me as if anticipating the occurrence.

Upon arriving at Pine Woods Hospital, I navigated the long, white corridors with a basket of heart-healthy food in hand. The scent of fresh vegetables, grilled chicken, and whole grains permeated the air, offering a comforting contrast to the antiseptic hospital odor. Though I couldn't visit my father that day, I hoped the meal would provide him solace and convey the depth of my care.

Approaching his room, I approached the nurse's station with a warm yet apprehensive smile directed at the nurse behind the counter. "I have heart-healthy food for my father. He's in Room 312. While I can't visit him presently,

could you ensure he receives this?"

The nurse nodded, accepting the basket with a gentle smile. "I'll see to it that he receives it."

Watching as she carried the basket away, I experienced a mix of relief and sorrow. I longed to be by his side, to share a meal and engage in conversation, but circumstances rendered that impossible. Inhaling deeply, I sought to steady the emotions threatening to overwhelm

me.

Casting a final glance towards his room, I proceeded to the waiting area. Retrieving my phone, I scrolled absentmindedly, yet my thoughts invariably returned to my father. I hoped the meal would not only cater to his dietary requirements but also serve as a reminder of my love and support. I resolved to visit him immediately after work.

Before departing, I left a note with the nurse, expressing my affection and hopes for a swift recovery. Stepping out of the hospital, a quiet hope blossomed within me that my gesture would offer a modicum of comfort and care, bridging the physical distance between us despite my absence.

It took approximately 15 minutes to board a cab to my workplace. My demeanor remained hopeful, chin held high. Upon arriving at Jeff's Cafe, I saw my Boss, Mr. Smith, also known as Jefferson John Smith but popularly addressed as Jeff, While he preferred to go by Jeff, a few individuals still referred to him as JJS, a moniker he did not particularly favor.

To my astonishment, I found him taking orders from a gentleman, while an unfamiliar young woman was tidying up the unoccupied tables. The sound of the door opening caught their attention.

"Good morning, Mr. Smith," I greeted him with a forced smile, well aware of my lateness.

"There is nothing particularly good about this morning, Blaire!" His sharp tone caught me off guard, causing me to lower my gaze in embarrassment. The man he had been attending to seemed unfazed and unperturbed.

Mr. Smith rose from his seat and made his way to the counter, with me following suit.

"Just observe the desolation that envelops my Cafe," he lamented, gesturing with exasperation. "I cannot settle my financial obligations with an empty establishment, and I certainly cannot abide a lackadaisical employee who prioritizes personal matters over her assigned duties." He proceeded to assist the young lady with the cleaning, while the man remained engrossed in his phone.

"I sincerely apologize, Mr. Smith. I assure you, I awoke early and diligently completed my tasks on time, but I encountered delays while searching for a cab to bring me here." I struggled to contain my emotions, but Mr. Smith unleashed his own without reserve.

"You know what, Blaire, I must relieve you of your responsibilities here. You are fired! I am certain a cab will arrive shortly to convey you back to your lovely abode," he declared without even glancing in my direction.

"Mr. Smith, please reconsider. How will I support my father? This job is my sole means of managing our expenses. My rent is due next month. This was merely a minor misunderstanding--I--I promise that it will not happen again," tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

The weight of it all became unbearable. I couldn't face my father, nor could I bring myself to lie to him. I refused to become like my mother, who had abandoned him. I was not prepared to bid him farewell, not yet. Without a second thought, I exited the Cafe. Feeling unready to return home, I settled down beside the shop.

Some time later, a gentleman approached me; to my surprise, it was the same man I had encountered at the Cafe. "What is it that you seek? I no longer serve coffees!" I snapped at him.

He scoffed and bent down to my eye level, offering me tissues, which I accepted without a shred of pride. "I am not here to ridicule you in any way," he remarked casually.

"Then what is your purpose?" I inquired with a voice that was trembling and strained.

"I am here to extend to you an opportunity to work at GLAZE GLOBAL CORPORATION," he said with a mischievous smirk that I found rather off-putting.