The CEO's Unrequited Love:The ceo's one-sided love

"Stop by the mansion, and let's get ready for the party," Elio smirks.

"See you, Ella," he whispered and smiled.

Elio had been looking forward to this day since he received the invitation to Mr. Bartlett's birthday party. Not for the celebration, the politics, or the grand display of wealth, but because Isabella would be there.

It had been two long months since she left for New York on a modeling contract, Two months since he last saw her smile. She was the only woman who ever had his heart, since college, where it all began. But family feuds had kept them apart.

Elio couldn't touch her, not when his father and hers still carried a rivalry soaked in betrayal. But tonight, with Isabella back and under one roof, even for a few hours, felt like a sliver of fate.

Even though she had been back from New York City a week ago, he hadn't set his eyes on her since the last two months she traveled aboard, Isabella had been his one and only love since college but he couldn't access her because of the conflict between his family and hers but she always owns his heart.

"Sir, his chauffeur called from the front seat, Miss Maya will be arriving this evening."

Elio sat up. "What?"

"She arrived earlier than expected. Her flight from Paris landed this afternoon."

"It is confirmed she attended the party, sir."

Elio exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "What a... devil." His voice was laced with frustration.

Maya and Isabella are models. Elio, Isabella, and Maya went to the same college. Two months ago Isabella was offered modeling work but was hijacked by Maya because Maya was a better person for the job. A few days later Isabella was offered another job and headed for New York and Maya for Paris. Maya has always been feisty, envious, two-faced and has always been the obstacle between him and Isabella. She has been the thorn in his throat; she always blocks every chance he gets to meet Isabella, even when her return problem has emerged.

On his arrival at the party, Elio stepped out of the car, dressed in a classic black tuxedo that fits like it was made just for him; he carried the kind of quiet confidence that didn't need flashing lights or a crowd's attention; it followed him naturally. His dark hair was neatly styled, a few strands falling just enough to soften his sharp features.

The lighting that hits his face shows his strong jawline, piercing eyes, and calm, unreadable expression that makes people wonder what he is thinking. There was something about him, elegant but distant as if he belonged to another world.

He adjusted the cuff of his white shirt beneath the tailored sleeve, then stepped onto the red carpet without hesitation. He wasn't here for the cameras. He was here for one reason.

He walked past the velvet ropes, barely nodding at the press, and headed straight toward a cluster of executives near the center. His handshake was firm, polite, and all business.

"Mr Luca," he greeted smoothly. I heard your merger is closed."

"Yes, just last week, Mr Luca stated

"Impressive," Elio offered a small nod. "Clean work."

He moved on, exchanging a few more brief words with other CEOs and board members, men his father once tried to force on him. Now they looked at him with respect. He didn't need his father's empire. He built his own.

Maya noticed him, and she paved her way down from the upper terrace; she held her champagne glass delicately, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. Elio Wilson, the man who had never glanced her way the same way he did with Isabella. His calm confidence, the way the crowd instinctively gave him space, stirred a mix of admiration and envy within her. She walked straight toward him, hips swaying, confidence in every step.

Elio noticed her as she approached, the faint scent of spiced vanilla trailing behind her. Her eyes locked on his, sharp and calculating.

"Elio, she purred, stepping right in front of him. You clean up well."

He looked like he was scanning her, and he gave a brief nod. "You're back earlier than expected." and start walking to greet the executives.

She laughed softly, a sound that didn't reach her eyes. "Did you think I'd miss my own father's party?"

He didn't even stop.

"Elio, she said smoothly, sliding in front of him. "I was starting to think you'd avoid me all night."

"Maya," he replied, barely glancing at her.

She stepped closer, forcing him to slow.

"You look... tense," she said, her voice teasing. "You should let loose a little. Maybe with me."

That's when he stopped, not because of her, but because he'd had enough, his eyes met hers, cold, unreadable.

"Don't waste your time," he said, voice quiet but sharp. "You're not what I'm here for."

Her smile cracked.

"Elio"

He cut her off, stepping around her like she was furniture. "Enjoy your...party."

And just like that, he was gone, already moving toward the front of the crowd; Maya stood frozen for a second, chest tight; rage was boiling behind her perfect makeup.

And at that exact moment, his eyes locked on the entrance, and there she was, Isabella Scott, arriving with her father. Everyone else in the room disappeared, including Maya.

Isabella Scott entered the ballroom with her father, a quiet presence that somehow drew more attention than any grand announcement could. The moment they stepped in, it felt like the room shifted around them.

Mr. Scott walked with his usual confidence, tailored to perfection, exchanging nods with other high-profile figures. Beside him, Isabella moved with the kind of grace that couldn't be taught. She wore an ice-blue gown that hugged her figure and slipped into a soft step behind her. The slit in her dress revealed just a flash of leg, her heels clicked softly against the marble floor, each step unhurried and assured.

Her hair was swept to one side, cascading in soft waves. A simple silver necklace rested at the hollow of her throat, matching diamond studs catching the chandelier light. Her makeup was barely there, just enough to enhance what needed no help. She didn't wave, didn't pose, didn't try. And yet eyes followed her, including Elio's. She passed through the crowd like air through silk gracefully.

Her gaze moved across the room, calm and unreadable, landing briefly on Elio. It was like she went into shock, the moment she saw him, everything else blurred. Her heart forgot how to beat, and for a second, the world tilted, and then she was gone, blending into the crowd, leaving Elio standing still, watching.

Elio stood still, glass untouched in his hand, watching her blend into the crowd; his jaw tightened, and breath caught somewhere in his chest.

"Did she just look at me?" he thought

He wasn't sure

Maybe her eyes had passed over him. Maybe not, It had been so fast, just like a flicker, no smile, no acknowledgment. Just...that movement.

"Was that nothing? Or was it deliberate" He couldn't tell his mind was restless

She was always composed, always in control. She doesn't do drama.

"Damn," he thought, eyes still fixed on the place she'd just walked through, Elio's eyes followed her through the crowd, every detail of her imprinted on his mind.

The way that dress curved along her back, how it moved like liquid over her hips with every step, effortless, seductive without trying. She wasn't even looking his way, yet his entire body was aware of her.

"God..." he muttered silently

He shouldn't be thinking like this, not here, not now, but the effect she had on him hadn't faded. If anything, the distance, the silence, the two long months without her had only sharpened it.

He remembered her laugh in college, soft, rare, the way her lip curled when she was amused but trying not to show it. And he remembered the feel of her once, that night, brief moments, innocent touches that lingered too long. Nothing had ever happened between them, but the tension? It had always been there, like something waiting to be lit.

And now, watching her in that gown, owning the room without saying a word...his mind slipped. Just for a second, he imagined what she looked like beneath that dress. He imagined walking up behind her, brushing her hair off her neck, whispering her name low against her skin; his breath shook, and he blinked, jaw tightening.

This wasn't the place, but his body didn't care about the setting.

From across the ballroom, Maya watched him. She had seen him brush past her like she didn't exist, but now? Now he stood still, drink in hand, eyes locked on one person, Isabella.

Maya's jaw clenched as she followed his gaze. Isabella moved through the crowd with her usual icy grace, completely unaware, or maybe completely indifferent to the attention she was pulling, Elio's attention.

But Maya noticed something else.

It wasn't just admiration in his eyes. It wasn't polite interest, It was hunger. That deep, buried kind of hunger that you can't fake or can't control.

Maya's stomach turned.

She had seen men look at her like that. She'd relied on it. But Elio? She was profusely angry, she only wanted him to look at her that way and yet here he was, damn near undressing Isabella with his eyes in the middle of a ballroom.

Maya's fingers tightened around her champagne glass.

"She hasn't even done anything," Maya thought bitterly. "She just walked in."

And still, Elio looked like the rest of the world had disappeared, that's even more than anything, made Maya burn.

A clear chime rang through the hall, the soft sound of a glass tapped gently by the MC.

Now, with great honor and warm applause, let's welcome the one whose life we celebrate tonight, our esteemed celebrant, Mr. Bartlett!"

People applaud.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

I want to start by saying how truly grateful I am to see so many familiar and cherished faces here tonight. Your presence means more to me than words can express.

Turning 55, it's one of those milestones that makes you reflect. On the roads traveled, the lessons learned, and the people who made the journey worthwhile, I've been fortunate to experience a fulfilling career.

To my family, my daughter, thank you for being my grounding force. Here's to 55 years of memories, and to many more years ahead, full of purpose, joy, and a little mischief along the way.

People laugh

Now, let's raise a glass, to life, to friendship, and to never growing too old for a great party.

Cheers!"

Cheers!

"All right, ladies and gentlemen," came the MC voice from the central podium. "Let's get this celebration started."

Polite applause followed. Music shifted from soft ambient strings to something smoother, richer, a live band easing into jazz. Waiters moved with trays of wine, conversations resumed, and laughter began to fill the air.

The ballroom came alive.

But not everyone blended into the rhythm.

Elio didn't move.

He was still watching Isabella, though from a careful distance. She was speaking to a few familiar guests with that quiet charm she always had. Nothing flashy, nothing loud. Just enough to make people lean in.

Maya hadn't left the floor either. She watched from a corner, smiling for anyone who looked her way, but her eyes kept drifting back to Elio. And the storm brewing in them hadn't settled.

The party had begun, but the real tension in the room wasn't about champagne or business deals, the clinking of glasses, the soft laughter, it all blurred for Elio.

His eyes remained trained on Isabella, even as he tried to play the part, smiling politely when spoken to, nodding through empty conversations with executives he barely registered. His mind was somewhere else.

A hand suddenly brushed his arm.

"Elio," Maya said, appearing beside him again, this time with a dazzling smile. "Dance with me."

He looked at her, sharp and unreadable. "I'm not in the mood."

Maya laughed softly, brushing it off like a joke. "Come on. It's just a dance."

He said nothing.

"Or is it only Isabella who gets your attention tonight?"

That made his jaw clench.

He turned fully to face her, lowering his voice. "Don't push it, Maya."

But Maya smiled wider. "Too late."

Before he could react, she took his hand and tugged him toward the dance floor, just as the tempo shifted into something slow and smooth. Cameras subtly turned, and whispers picked up. People were watching, including Isabella.

Elio moved stiffly at first, one hand resting lightly on Maya's waist, the other holding hers. His posture was perfect, his steps effortless, but his presence? Distant and Detached.

Maya, on the other hand, leaned in just a little closer than necessary. Her fingers tightened slightly in his, her smile bright enough to fool anyone watching but not him; his gaze flicked over her shoulder, instinctively searching for her.

Maya noticed.

The music carried on around them, elegant, smooth, but between them, it felt like a silent standoff, though they moved in rhythm, they couldn't have been more out of sync.

"You really can't look away from her, can you?" she whispered, voice low enough to keep it private. "She didn't even greet you. You're practically invisible to her."

Elio's eyes finally dropped to meet hers, "That's none of your concern."

Maya gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Isn't it? After all, I'm the one you chose to bring attention to tonight."

"But I didn't choose you," he said flatly. "You just made yourself unavoidable."

Her smile slipped.

From across the room, Isabella stood beside her father, nodding politely through conversation, holding a glass of champagne she hadn't sipped.

But her eyes drifted, just once, and they landed on them, Maya pressing just a little too close, smiling. That smile she wore when she wanted the world to believe something true. Elio was perfectly composed but not present, his body moved, but his mind was somewhere else.

Her lips remained still, her expression unreadable. After years of training, society events, and cameras, she knew how to wear the perfect face.

But something tugged beneath it, the way Elio was looking at her, quiet but intense. Still, she refused to give in to curiosity or emotion.

She turned back to the conversation at her side, nodding at something her father said, placing her untouched glass on the tray of a passing waiter. As she walked away from the dance floor, she quietly excused herself from the growing crowd. Her heels clicked lightly against the marble as she made her way toward the private corridor leading to the restrooms.

She needed a moment away from the eyes, the noise, the unspoken tension; she didn't even check if anyone was watching, but someone was. Elio's hand dropped from Maya's waist mid-turn.

"Excuse me," he said without looking at her.

Maya frowned. "Seriously? In the middle of"

He didn't answer. He was already walking, leaving Maya dumbfounded.

He moved through the crowd like a shadow, silent but deliberate, eyes fixed on the slim figure ahead slipping around the corner, the noise of the party faded behind him.

In the hallway, Isabella paused at the mirror outside the restroom. Her reflection stared back, composed, but her fingers were tense against the marble counter.

"Ella," came his voice from behind her.

She didn't turn immediately.

He stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. His presence filled the quiet space like static in the air.

"I wasn't sure if you'd even look at me tonight," he said, voice low.

She finally met his eyes through the mirror.

"Hi, Elio," she replied, just as calm.

The silence between them was heavier than the music behind the doors, and everything they hadn't said hung between them like a thread stretched tight.

Elio stepped closer, his voice low, steady.

"You didn't say hello earlier."

Isabella didn't turn. "I don't need a reason to and my dad was there so..."

"I was hoping to see you here," he muttered silently

She looked up at him through the mirror, her eyes unreadable, but something flickered. "Hope's never really been your style, is it?"

He stepped beside her now, not touching, but close enough that the air shifted. "It is when it comes to you, Ella"

Isabella turned slowly to face him, her arms crossing, more to steady herself than to keep him out.

"Ella," he said, almost whispering.

She paused, the nickname always disarmed her a little more than she liked. Still, she kept her posture straight, her expression distant.

"Don't call me that," she stated.

"Ella," he whispered again, getting closer to her.

"What did you think you were doing," She swallowed.

There is a long silence between them.

Her eyes flicked up to his, just for a second, and in that moment, the walls she tried so hard to hold trembled.

"Elio, what did you think you were doing?" she said again trying to look serious.

"You still feel it, right?" he said, stepping slightly closer, his voice rough. "I see it in your eyes. You just won't admit it."

She didn't respond. Her breath came just a little too quickly. Her hands stayed clenched at her sides.

"Ella," he said again, gentler this time. "you know... Since that day, everything I have been trying to hold back on for years escalated."

He looked at her with longing; Ella avoided his eyes and stepped around him slowly, brushing past with a touch that lingered more than it should have; she didn't look back.

And Elio stood there in the silence, heart thudding, knowing she wasn't as far gone as she wanted to be.

As Isabella stepped back into the ballroom, the lights felt a little too bright, the music a little too loud, and her face returned to its polished calm, but inside, her heart was still unsettled, still echoing Elio's words, the way he calls her name only father calls her that.

She spotted her father across the room, deep in conversation, commanding presence as always. She straightened her posture, adjusted her expression, and moved toward him.

Each step was measured; she had perfected this for years; her father turned and gave her a warm nod, his hand resting briefly on her back as she stood beside him, and yet Elio's presence still clung to her, her smile returned for the guests around her.

Mr. Scott glanced at his daughter as she stood quietly beside him. She looked poised, calm, smiling when necessary, but he knew her too long to miss the subtle signs.

Her fingers fidgeted slightly with the ring on her hand. Her gaze flicked toward the crowd but never truly settled. And when she laughed, it didn't reach her eyes.

He leaned in slightly and spoke just low enough for only her to hear.

"Ella, Are you alright?" her father said

She blinked, then gave him a smile. "Nothing, Dad. Just a little tired."

He looked at her again getting worried

She smiles, "It's fine, Dad, really."

Minutes passed, but Isabella's silence deepened. Mr Scott kept watching her, how her eyes followed nothing in particular, how she shifted on her heels more than usual. She was trying hard to stay composed, but for a man who had raised her, the signs were clear.

He leaned in again, voice calm but firm.

"That's enough for tonight," he said.

She looked up, surprised. "Dad"

"You're not yourself," he interrupted gently. "And I don't like seeing you like this."

Before she could argue, he was already turning to shake hands with a few familiar faces. One by one, he gave polite nods and warm farewells, moving with his usual confidence.

And then to Mr Bartlett, "Happy birthday once again," he said.

Mr Bartlett smiles, "Thank you for coming"

Mr Scott walked up to his daughter, and Isabella followed beside him; as they exited the grand ballroom, her heart was both grateful and heavy.

The cool night air greeted them, the flash of cameras dulled, and the music softened behind closed doors.

Their car was already outside waiting, and the chauffeur opened the door.

Mr. Scott looked at her once more, studying her face. "Take your time to rest when we get home," he said simply.

She nodded and stepped inside the car, and as the car pulled away from the golden lights of the ballroom, Isabella allowed herself one small, silent breath of relief. But Elio's voice still echoed in her chest, his words still ringing in her ears; what Elio said was true since "that day" she hadn't been herself. Since the dispute between her father and Elio's father. She avoided him by every possible means, but after that event two months ago, it was like something stirred inside of her. All the feelings she has buried deep inside her are boiling up again. Since then she hasn't been herself.

Before she knew it, they were at the gate. The chauffeur opened the door, greeted her father good night, and went straight to her room.

Back in the restroom

Elio turned away from the mirror, ready to return to the ballroom, emotionally tangled but composed.

Then he saw Maya leaning casually against the wall. She was at the end of the corridor, arms folded, watching him with an expression that was a part amusement, a part accusation.

"How sweet," she said, stepping forward slowly. "The cold CEO still melts for just one woman."

Elio didn't flinch. "Did you follow me?"

Maya shrugged. "You left me mid-dance without a word. Thought I'd see what dragged you away."

He said nothing, just watched her.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "It was her, wasn't it?"

Still no answer, but his silence was damning.

"You know," she said, voice tightening, "you're playing this game like I don't exist. But I do. I'm right here, Elio. I've always been."

He met her gaze, cool and detached. "Game" he scolded."This was like a game to you"

She tilted her head, stepping closer, "if not, then what it is," she smirked.

Elio said nothing. But that was enough to answer.

Maya's smiles faded and her lips pressed into a line. "You're still chasing a girl who treats you like a ghost.

Elio didn't answer.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket; Elio pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

He answered curtly. "Yes?"

"Sir," the driver said, "Miss Isabella has exited the ballroom. She left in her father's car a few minutes ago."

His hand dropped slightly, phone still pressed to his ear. For a brief moment, something shifted in his expression.

Maya continues.

"You think I'm feisty and annoying. I get that," she said. "But at least I see you, Elio, and I wouldn't make you beg for space in my world."

Elio stepped past her without a word.

"I'm not done," she called after him.

"But I am," he replied coldly, walking away without a glance back.

Maya stood there, alone in the silence, burning, she stood still, her breath caught in frustration. But he didn't look back; he pulled out his phone as he reached the hallway, and he pressed a single button.

"Bring the car around," he said coldly.

"Yes, sir," the chauffeur replied.

He walked straight through the ballroom, ignoring the music, the lights, and the lingering eyes. No goodbyes

The black car was already waiting outside. The driver opened the door. Elio got in, leaned back, and closed his eyes for a moment as the door shut behind him. As the car pulled away his eyes stayed fixed on the window.

He hated how the night ended.

He hated that he barely got five minutes alone with Isabella, just enough to stir everything back up, and not enough to do a damn thing about it.

He hated the way Maya was always inserting herself around him. But most of all, he hated the helplessness, the feeling of being close, but never close enough. He spent months chasing a chance to be near Isabella, only to have it snatched away.

He loosened his tie angrily and muttered under his breath, "What a damn waste of a night."

Elio closed his eyes briefly, trying to wash away the anger, the frustration, but it lingered, sharp and stubborn. "To the penthouse," he said with a long sigh.

"Yes sir" the chauffeur answered

Scott's Estate

The next morning at Scott's estate light slowly filled the rooms. The sky outside was bright, but inside the house, things felt quiet and heavy.

Isabella sat at the long dining table, still wearing her silk robe. Her plate was full, but she hadn't touched the food. Her coffee had gone cold. She looked tired, like someone who hadn't slept all night.

She kept her eyes down, gently circling the edge of her cup with her fingers. Her mind was far away. Back to the ballroom. Back to the moment, Elio had called her "Ella" in that quiet hallway. Back to her way out as she walked away, her heart was still racing.

Just then, Mr. Scott walked into the room.

He has dressed for work, and he wears a dark blue suit, looking as sharp and focused as always. But when he saw her, he stopped.

"Morning, baby girl," he said gently.

"Morning Dad," she replied quietly, forcing a smile.

He walked over to the table and looked at her more closely.

"You didn't sleep, did you?"

"I'm okay," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"You don't look okay." Mr Scott sat across from her and poured himself a cup of coffee. He stirred it slowly, still watching her.

"You've looked like this since last night. You didn't say much when we got home."

She shrugged. "I just felt tired".

"Ella," he said, his voice calm but serious. "You've been to many of these events. Last night was different. Something's bothering you."

She was quiet for a long moment.

He pulled out a chair and sat beside her. "Was the party that exhausting?"

She gave a small nod, not meeting his eyes. "Something like that."

He studied her carefully. "You went quiet the moment you came back from the restroom. Was it someone you saw?"

She hesitated, then gave a quiet "Dad!"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Who?"

She didn't answer.

"Elio Wilson was there," he said, watching her reaction.

Her hands froze on the cup.

"I figured you two never really spoke. Considering the history between his father and me..."

She nodded quickly like she wanted the conversation to end. "We don't."

Mr. Scott exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "Still, you looked... uneasy. Did that boy say something to you? Did he do anything?"

Isabella cut her dad off and tried to keep her voice calm. "Dad, look her dad in the eyes, assuring him that he did nothing to her; he just brings up things I'd rather not think about."

Mr. Scott nodded slowly. "Good. Keep it that way. His father and I have been enemies for years. The last thing I want is you anywhere near that family."

"I know," she murmured, her eyes falling to the table.

"I'm not saying he's like his father, but you've worked too hard to let anything be between you two that pulls you into trouble." her father stated

"I understand, Dad," she said quickly.

He stood, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. "I've got a meeting to attend, but I'll be back later this afternoon."

He paused at the door and looked at her once more. "Ella, you know I always want the best for you, right? And I doubt his father will support anything involving you two."

She smiled faintly. "I know."

He gave her a nod, then left.

Elio's penthouse

Elio sat at the edge of his bed, shirtless, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands.

He hadn't slept well, not because of work or deadlines.

He could still see Isabella's face from the night before, still hear her voice when she said his name like it hurt to speak it. She had barely looked at him, but that brief conversation in the hallway... had shaken something loose in him. And then she vanished, leaving the party before he could say anything more.

His phone buzzed beside him with morning updates, emails, meetings, and calls, but he ignored them. For once, he didn't care about contracts or reports, he stood and walked to the window, pulling the curtain back slightly.

He remembered the moment he saw her with her father last night, standing tall and beautiful, like time hadn't touched her; that urge to touch her came rushing back, and he sighed. Then pulled on his shirt and grabbed his blazer, pausing by the mirror.

His phone buzzed sharply beside him, breaking the silence.

He picked it up, voice low and rough. "Yeah?"

"Good morning, sir," came the voice of his personal assistant. "TX & Co representatives just arrived at the company. They're waiting to see you, sir; said it was urgent."

Elio frowned, "But I wasn't expecting them until next week."

"Yes, sir. They came unannounced, said they were passing through, and wanted to take the opportunity."

He sighed, "Tell them I'll be there in an hour. Bring them coffee. Make sure they're comfortable."

"Yes, sir."

He ended the call, tossing the phone onto the bed. As he moved toward the bathroom, grabbed his razor looked at his reflection shaved, and prepared for work

He finished dressing, sliding his watch onto his wrist, then ran his hand through his hair to set it back. He grabbed his briefcase, stepped into the private elevator of his penthouse, and rode down in silence.

His chauffeur was already waiting outside, engine running. Elio slid into the back seat, exhaled, and said simply, "To the office."

On arriving at the company, Elio stepped out of his car; the receptionist at the company gave him a polite smile as he walked through the glass doors and into the lobby.

"Good morning, sir. They are waiting in Conference Room 3."

Elio gave a short nod. "Coffee. Black. Bring it in."

He headed toward the conference room, straightening his cuffs. His mind was still clouded, but work was the only thing that grounded him.

Inside, three men in suits stood as he walked in. The eldest among them extended a hand.

"Mr Wilson," the man said with a smile. "It's good to finally meet you in person. I'm Gerald Lane, CEO of TX Corporation. Thank you for seeing us.

Elio shook his hand. "Let's get to the point then, Mr. Lane. What brings you here so early"

"We are sorry, Mr Wilson, but I've talked to your mother. She said she will inform you about my coming," said Mr Wilson.

Elio sighed, "we've talked about it but she hasn't informed me about your coming"

"We are deeply sorry about that, I talked to your mother about it in a meeting we attended together yesterday. She advised us to speak to you directly," stated Mr Gerald.

"Hmmm, okay let me see the proposal"

They had just handed over the proposal for the Greenline Development contract.

As Elio flipped through the neatly bound document, the door opened quietly.

His secretary stepped in, heels soft against the floor, holding a black tray with a single cup.

"Your coffee, sir," she said gently, setting it beside him, dark, strong, exactly how he liked it.

Elio gave a quick nod without looking up. "Thank you."

She exited just as quietly.

He took a sip, eyes still on the document.

He flipped through the document. Everything was clear, detailed, and well-researched, numbers added up. The timeline was realistic, but it was tight work.

"Your numbers are clean," he said after a pause, "and you've clearly done your homework. This proposal isn't rushed."

Mr. Gerald smiled. "We know E. I Enterprise doesn't deal with guesswork, and we believe we're a perfect fit for this project; we came ready."

Elio closed the file slowly, leaned back, and nodded. "You've got the contract."

The TX team exhaled, smiling. Mr. Gerald stood to shake his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Wilson. We won't let you down."

"You'd better not," Elio said, calm but serious.

Elio stepped out of the conference room alongside the TX team. They exchanged a few last words and a handshake as he walked them toward the elevator.

"Expect the official paperwork by noon," Elio said, his tone firm but polite.

"Looking forward to it," Mr. Gerald replied, clearly pleased.

As the elevator doors closed behind them, Elio turned, adjusting his cuffs, and headed down the hallway toward his office.

Halfway there, his assistant, James approached quickly with a tablet.

"Sir," James said, matching his pace. "The legal team is ready for your 11 a.m. briefing, and Mrs. Wilson left a message. She's asking for a callback."

Elio raised an eyebrow. "About TX Corporation?"

"Most likely. She didn't say anything directly." James said.

"She'll find out I signed the deal eventually." Elio replied walking towards his office.

James gave a small nod "Yes, sir."

Elio entered his office, cool, modern, and commanding. The skyline framed the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk.

He stood in silence for a moment, the door closing quietly behind him.

But his mind... was still with Isabella.

He then just settled his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the armrest when the door opened again.

James stepped in, holding a slim folder.

"These are the revised contracts from legal, sir. And your next meeting starts in ten minutes, a conference call with the Singapore branch."

Elio took the folder without looking up. "Thanks."

As James turned to leave, Elio's phone buzzed on the desk.

"Mum."

He sighed quietly, picked it up, and answered.

"Son," came Mrs.Lila Wilson's warm but firm voice. "I heard TX corporation showed up this morning."

"They did," Elio replied calmly. "You didn't mention you spoke to them."

"I wanted to see if they had the guts to show up prepared. And?" his mother said, smiling.

"Yeah, they came prepared. So I gave them the contract."

A short pause.

"Good," she said, then softened. "I knew you'd see what I saw. They're solid."Thank you for not brushing them off."

Elio leaned back. "That was because we've talked about it before."

She smiles "I know you don't like surprises, but you handle them well," she teased gently.

He gave a dry chuckle. "Anything else?"

There was a pause, and then her tone shifted.

"I also heard Isabella attended the party last night."

Elio's expression changed slightly. He closed the folder slowly.

"She did."

"Did you two talk?"

His jaw tightened. "Mother... I don't want to talk about that right now."

"Alright," she said gently. "I just wondered. That's all."

"I have a meeting," he said, already standing.

"I'll let you go. Talk later, darling."

He hung up just as James stepped in.

"Your call is ready, sir."

Elio nodded, voice low "Let's begin."

He took a deep breath and turned his attention to the conference call with the Singapore branch. The time difference meant it was already evening there, and the team was eager for updates. As he connected, he greeted the team, "Good morning, everyone. Let's get started."

The meeting was intense, with discussions about project timelines, budget allocations, and potential challenges. Elio listened attentively, offering insights and making quick decisions. Despite his focus, thoughts of Isabella lingered in the back of his mind, distracting him momentarily.

Once the call concluded, James entered the office with a stack of documents. "Sir, your next meeting is in ten minutes," he informed Elio. Nodding, Elio reviewed the paperwork, preparing for the upcoming discussion.

The day continued in a blur of meetings, emails, and phone calls. Each task demanded his full attention, yet Isabella's face kept appearing in his thoughts. By late afternoon, Elio felt the weight of the day pressing down on him. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the fatigue.

After a long day of back-to-back meetings and a mind that wouldn't stop circling back to Isabella, Elio finally wrapped things up. He stood in his office, staring out at the city skyline glowing beneath the soft descent of night. His jaw tightened as he pulled out his phone.

"James," he said without turning. "Tell my chauffeur he can head home. I'm driving myself tonight."

There was a pause, and then his assistant replied, "Yes, sir. Will you be needing anything else?"

"No." With that, he grabbed his keys, left his office, and descended to the private garage beneath E.I Enterprise. He reached for his keys, opened the car door, slid into the driver's seat, shut the door, and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

No destination is entered into the GPS. He didn't need one.

He already knew where he was going.

He drove through the city streets with the windows partially down. The night air was cool against his skin, and for a moment, the silence of being alone in his car felt like a small relief. But then her face came back to him, Isabella's distant eyes, her reserved smile, the way she looked away too quickly at the party.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Why couldn't he just let it go?"

Pulling up in front of an exclusive nightclub he used to frequent, discreet enough to avoid attention, Elio parked the car. He stepped out and walked toward the entrance.

As Elio stepped through the doors of the club, the scent of expensive liquor and rich perfume greeted him like a familiar memory. One of the club's staff instantly recognized him and approached with a polite smile.

"Mr. Wilson," she said, giving a small nod. "Your usual spot?"