"David," I begin, my voice betraying a hint of skepticism, "where did you say you met this girl?"

David lowers his phone, the glow of its screen casting shadows across his face as he lets out a sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you... I met her at a party!"

"Why am I not surprised..." There's a strange sense of predictability to this revelation as if it's merely an extension of the David I've come to know. He responds to my reaction with a snort, undeterred by my less-than-enthusiastic response.

Turning my gaze away from him, I glance out the window and recognize the intersection we're crossing. If my memory serves, we should be at the restaurant in about five minutes.

"Her name?" I inquire, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Grace," he reveals, his voice laced with a sense of appreciation.

Nodding slowly, I reach for a glass of water, taking a sip as I process the information. My next question, although lighthearted, is one I can't resist asking. "Is she hot?"

A deep, genuine chuckle escapes from David, and he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Roman, she's one of the hottest girls I've ever seen... I mean, when you see her you're going to lose your mind..."

The reply amuses me, and I can't help but chuckle in response. However, my curiosity still lingers, and I press on. "So, have you...you know, been with her?"

David's sigh is accompanied by a thoughtful run of his hand through his hair. He shakes his head, a hint of frustration in his expression. "Not yet," he confesses, his tone filled with an air of expectancy, "but it's bound to happen."

"Is it?"

"I think it is... I mean if she didn't like me, why'd she help me pull such a crazy stunt, right?"

As I reluctantly concede to David's narrative, a nagging suspicion gnaws at the corners of my mind. The story of a coincidental encounter at a random party leading to an alliance aimed at hijacking a major corporation is, quite frankly, too unbelievable. Such occurrences, at least in the world I inhabit, are nothing short of fantasy. Skepticism brews within me, casting a shadow of doubt over David's intentions. The thought nags at me, and I can't shake the feeling of unease.

"George, how far are we from the restaurant?" David asks, leaning toward the driver's seat.

George promptly responds, keeping his eyes on the road. "We're about three minutes away from our destination, sir."

"That's what I like to hear, George," he declares, patting our driver on the back. "I'll make sure to leave you with one big juicy tip!"

"That's not necessary, sir..."

David chuckles, waving off George's politeness. "Don't worry, George... I insist."

"Well then thank you, sir."

As David reclines into his seat once more, I seize the opportunity to seek clarification. "You mentioned she's a lawyer, right?" My question hangs in the air, demanding a response.

David affirms my inquiry with a nod. "That's what I'm saying, dude! Not only is she hot, but she's also super smart!"

The contrast of David's intelligence and cunning with his lack of understanding of human motivations perplexes me. I can't stop clenching my fists in frustration, torn between irritation and exasperation. It's as if he inhabits two worlds, one of strategic brilliance and another being fucking naive.

Before I get the chance to slap some sense into him, the SUV comes to an abrupt stop, and George announces our arrival at the restaurant.

David springs into action, his excitement palpable as he readies himself to exit the vehicle. The vehicle's engine hums to a quiet idle as he turns to me, a confident grin on his face. "Before I forget, I wanted to let you know that I promised the girl a permanent position at our company..."

Wait, what?!?

My eyebrows knit together in anger as I watch David exit the car. "You did what!?!"

"I told her that if we pulled this off, she'd have a job waiting for her in our company," he confesses, his tone hinting at both pride and audacity.

I let out a heavy sigh, struggling to contain my frustration. "Are you fucking stupid or what? We can't just hand out jobs like candy!"

David snorts in response, seemingly unfazed by my reproach.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

"Relax, Roman," he retorts, patting me on the shoulder that belies the gravity of our situation. "Trust me, it'll be worth it in the end. After all, the bet paid off, right?"

As David strides away toward the entrance of the restaurant, I remain seated for a moment, pondering the implications of his actions. I honestly can't believe he did something so stupid... If word about this got out, we'd find ourselves dealing with seriously dangerous lawsuits. Lawsuits that could quite literally fuck our entire operation.

As soon as I'm out of here, I'm going to pour all of my resources and find out what else that lunatic's been up to... If he won't cover his tracks to keep us safe, I'll have to do the dirty work... There's no way I'm going down for his stupidity...

As I stand on the side of the sidewalk, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, I hear the faint closing of a car door followed by the rhythmic tapping of heels approaching. My reverie is interrupted as I turn to see Veronica drawing near.

Our gazes meet, and her perfectly arched brows ascend in a silent query, prompting her to voice her curiosity. "Sir, why are you standing outside?"

I shrug nonchalantly, masking the storm of emotions beneath my calm exterior. "Just thinking about something."

Veronica leans in closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she seeks clarity. "Thinking about what?"

A half-chuckle escapes me, masking the genuine anger that's churning in my stomach. "Well," I begin, my tone light but my intentions far from it, "I've come to the conclusion that I'd rather ride in the car with you next time," I confess, my gaze momentarily flickering with the rage I feel toward David.

Her lips curl into a faint smile at my jest, the weight of my true sentiments unbeknownst to her. "I'd be delighted," she replies, her voice warm and reassuring.

We share a brief moment of connection before I suggest that we head inside, offering her the lead as a gesture of courtesy. The restaurant's interior greets us with an air of sophistication, Japanese aesthetics blending seamlessly with modern luxury.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"This place is beautiful," Veronica smiles, as the door closes behind us.

"It sure is."

"Welcome to Omakaze!"

I turn just in time to see a young waitress, impeccably dressed in her uniform, glide toward us with an air of grace. Her demeanor is poised, and with a courteous bow, she addresses us. "Good evening, sir, ma'am. Your party is already upstairs in our lounge," her delicate hand gestures us toward a transparent staircase, which, in its ethereal elegance, beckons us to ascend.

With measured politeness, I thank her for her guidance while maintaining an air of curiosity. "Could you please direct me to the nearest restroom?"

Even though a couple of minutes have passed, I'm still yearning for some solitude and a chance to collect my thoughts. The prospect of freshening up is completely necessary. If I don't calm down before the meeting, the next time I see David, I'll be on top of him, ramming his face with my elbow...

The waitress responds with a nod of understanding, her delicate hand guiding me toward the facilities. "Of course, sir," she replies, her voice carrying the same grace as her demeanor. "You'll find the men's restroom at the far end of the corridor, the last door on your right."

"Thank you."

Just as I start to head toward the corridor I feel a soft touch land on my back.

"Would you like me to wait for you?" Veronica offers, her consideration a soothing balm for my conflicted emotions.

I can't help but return her kindness with a small, genuine smile. "Thank you, Veronica. But please, go ahead and let the others know I'll join them shortly."

"As you say, sir."

With that, I watch her graceful ascent up the staircase, her silhouette fading against the ethereal glow of the restaurant's interior. As I begin my solitary journey down the corridor, the distant murmur of conversation, clinking glasses, and soft jazz music fade into the air.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The moment I step into the restroom, I'm drawn to the gleaming chrome faucet. Without hesitation, I twist the handle, and the pristine, cold water rushes out in a clear, steady stream. As I cup my hands under the icy flow, I bring them to my face, the shock of cold water a sharp contrast to the seething emotions that have been simmering within me.

In the reflection of the mirror above the sink, I scrutinize my appearance. I'm clad in a sleek black suit, with no tie to restrict my neck, and my hair is slicked back with meticulous precision. As I gaze at my reflection, a rare sense of pride swells within me...

Ten years ago, I was a different person, a teenager grappling with stupid insecurities. I had a face marred by acne and a body laden with excess weight. I was a loser... Back then, I allowed just about anyone to trample over me, to undermine my worth. I was weak, and I had no way of defending myself...

Now, a decade later, I stand before this mirror as someone unrecognizable—my skin pristine, my physique sculpted, and my attire a testament to success. Each stitch in my fifteen-thousand-dollar suit is a reminder of the blood and sweat I've poured. I've emerged from the crucible of life, stronger and more resilient than I ever thought possible. No longer the loser I once was, I've become an untouchable, impenetrable force... I revel in the knowledge that nobody will ever manipulate or mistreat me again.

As I bask in this moment of self-assured satisfaction, I suddenly recall the reason for my anger—David...

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts of lingering anger, and proceed to rinse my face once more. The water refreshes me, both physically and mentally, preparing me to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

"I'll deal with that horny fuck later..."

Exiting the restroom, I make my way down the corridor, adjusting my suit. My irritation with David now feels like a distant memory, replaced by a renewed sense of determination and confidence.

As I climb up the last case of stairs, my eyes sweep over the impressive spectacle that's been put in place. At a grand table, elegantly set and adorned with pristine white linen, I spot the familiar faces of Veronica and David. My gaze traverses further, and I notice the eclectic mix of individuals who are also part of this meeting. For a moment, I am taken aback, as I don't recognize most of them. The solemnity of their expressions hints at the significance of this gathering. Even from this distance, I can see the disdain glowering in some of their gazes.

Guess not everyone is pleased to be here...

To be completely frank, I don't blame them. If someone stole my company from under me, I'd also be fucking enraged... Unfortunately, that's how this game works. You win some, and you lose some...

As I approach the glass door that leads to the lounge, my hand grips the handle, ready to step inside. But then, as if the fates have chosen this very moment to test me, my world shudders to a halt.

It can't be... This isn't possible...

My heart lurches uncomfortably within my chest, and I'm acutely aware of a sudden constriction in my throat.

For a fleeting moment, I'm locked in a trance, my gaze held captive by an unmistakable set of blonde hair, the very essence of which is etched indelibly in the deepest recesses of my memory. It's as if the world around me dissolves into insignificance, leaving only this woman and her unique hair, a beacon that defies time and reason.

I stumble back, my trembling hand slipping from the door handle. I rub my eyes, in an attempt to dispel the illusion, but it fails.

Wake the fuck up! Stop imagining things!

I close my eyes once more and open them, but nothing has changed. Even though I can't see her face, there's no mistaking that set of hair. It's Madeleine. She's here...

"What the actual fuck..." I run my hand through my hair, desperately trying to decipher how this is all possible. Last I heard, she had embraced a life far from the city, finding her calling as a school teacher in her hometown.

If that's the case, why the fuck is a school teacher here?!

SILENCE.

Guess, there's only one way to find out...

Summoning every ounce of fortitude I can muster, I draw in a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if to rid myself of the perplexing unease growing in my chest.

The moment I step inside, the ambiance of chatter that had previously filled the room begins to lose its vivacity. Conversations dim, and curious eyes pivot toward me. However, amid this spectacle of turning heads and arched brows, there's one notable exception—she remains wholly engrossed in whatever conversation has ensnared her attention.

Who the fuck is she talking to?

Ah... I see... She's talking to David...

Noticing my approach, David's eyes widen as his lips curl into a grin. Standing up, he clasps his hands together, waving me over. "What the hell took you so long?"

For an ephemeral moment, I'm caught in a disconcerting inertia, my thoughts and emotions tangled in a web of uncertainty. "I had to take a call... Sorry, I took so long."

David chuckles and waves off my apology. "It's fine..."

Before I get the chance to sneak a glance at the woman's face, David walks to the front of the table and clears his throat. "Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to none other than the CEO of Bias Break Media, Roman Pierce!"

The moment the words leave David's mouth, I'm swamped with salutes from all over the room.

"Nice to meet you..."

"I've been looking forward to meeting you..."

"We're so excited about this merger..."

The names of the people seated around the table remain a muddled blur as I acknowledge the polite nods and greetings with a forced smile. After all, there's only one person I'm interested in talking to...

"Roman, come over here," David's voice beckons me with a sense of intrigue that tugs at the edges of my curiosity. "There's someone I want you to meet!"

As the woman with cascading blonde hair rises from her seat and slowly turns to face me, my heart lurches with a mixture of emotions I can't quite put into words. The world momentarily blurs as a shocking realization crashes over me like a relentless wave. It's not Madeleine. It's her younger sister, Natalie!!!

David's voice resonates with a hint of pride as he completes his introduction, "Roman, allow me to introduce you to Grace."

So, she's using her middle name... How peculiar...

As my eyes reluctantly tear away from the enchanting vision of Natalie's face, I turn my attention to David who's smiling like a kid on Christmas. The smirk etched across his face could quite literally eclipse the sun... To be frank, I don't think I've ever seen him this excited over a girl...

As my eyes linger back to Natalie, a cascade of memories tumbles forth, like an old photo album unfurling before me. The portrait of Natalie before me defies the passage of time. Though we once shared the same space, memories of the girl with braces and oversized glasses flood my mind. A sense of wonder washes over me at the transformation.

It's been at least ten years since I last saw her... I think she was thirteen... No fourteen... On second thought, I think she was fifteen years old, the last time I saw her...

Natalie's smile, elegant and beguiling, reaches her hazel eyes. With a subtle glint, she stretches her hand towards me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Roman. David's spoken quite highly of you."

I accept her handshake, my tone genial and welcoming, even as my mind churns with the question of why she conceals our shared history. Regardless, part of me is eager to see how this all plays out...

"Likewise, Grace," I respond, choosing to follow her lead in maintaining the charade, at least for now. Natalie, aware of my unspoken dilemma, holds my gaze for a moment longer, her eyes betraying a flicker of recognition and silent understanding.