NEXT DAY
LAURENT & CIE
21ST FLOOR
After two days, I am coming across Nova again today.
I know I won't push anything outright or bring up that night.
But that doesn't mean I don't plan to make her start feeling the need for me.
My grey fitted suit gives me a less intimidating aura—or that's what I'd like to believe for now.
The 21st floor is buzzing with employees filtering in for the day, the hum of the coffee machine and chatter near the breakroom where breakfast and snacks are kept for the employees to grab on the go.
Heels clicking, leather shoes almost soundless yet heavy, fill the air of the 21st floor with a strange sense of professional rhythm. Felix is leaning against the wall next to the coffee machine.
His eyes find mine as he kicks back and starts walking beside me with his black coffee mug.
"Julian met three employees from M&A yesterday. Mark was his main target, and based on what I learned, Mark has joined hands with Julian because they think I'm returning to Geneva. Mark believes he'll instantly become eligible for my position, and a major portion of M&A will fall under Julian."
Felix's voice is low enough for only me to hear, his eyes cold and annoyed. The slight frown between his brows makes him look like he wants to punch someone.
"Keep your eyes and ears open. No need to take action yet," I say, keeping my tone low and clipped.
Felix doesn't ask any more questions and simply takes the right turn at the fork, while I take the left toward my cabin where my little team of five is seated with their laptops open before them, ready for the first test results.
My eyes find Nova before anything else in the room.
She's wearing a red blazer over a silk black button-down shirt tucked into her black high-waisted trousers.
Her hair is thrown into a messy bun, and she's wearing lighter makeup than usual.
Yet the way she radiates—it takes my breath away.
My hands itch to reach out and touch her, my chest tightens with desire and longing so maddening that I feel like a caged animal.
I take a deep breath, reminding myself—I need her to need me, and I'll make her need me so badly that she'll think life without me is miserable.
Because for me, it's true.
Life without her…
It's worse than the hell I lived in as a kid.
I walk past Luke and Mark, who are sitting on the left side of the long table, and Elena, Eric, and Nova on the right.
They greet me in unison. Nova's eyes flicker toward me, too conflicted, before she looks back to her laptop.
Her indifference breaks something inside me that I can't name.
The cold air in the room does nothing to calm the burn within me—the desire to make her mine and take her so far from the world that only I can see her, feel her, love her, and protect her from the filth of the world.
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste metal, trying to replace emotional pain with physical.
"Mr. Erikson, today's the day you'll hear our pitching and proposals for the four upcoming biddings: A Industry, S Fashion, Y Telecom, X Hotels, and Q Entertainment," Elena is the first to break the silence and start the meeting.
My mind is anywhere but on choosing four proposals out of the twenty they've made.
But work demands excellence, and excellence demands I shut off my emotions and do my job.
I nod, and one by one, they start.
Hours pass. Discussions get heated—numbers, market possibilities, hostile takeovers—everything expected from employees of a big player like Laurent & Cie.
Eric is a numbers person, Elena and Luke are people persons, Mark is logistics.
And Nova… my Nova, she stands out.
Because she somehow manages to balance numbers, customer psychology, and logistics—her proposals are worth pushing forward for deeper discussion.
However, unfortunate for her and everyone else—it wasn't Nova's balanced proposal or Mark's perfect logistics that caught my attention.
It's Luke Marios's well-written, well-structured pitch deck. It sounds so persuasive that I have to admit—with more guidance, he could rival my snake of a younger brother's sweet tongue and sharp instincts.
And being compared to Julian... it's not a feed just anyone can achieve.
The corner of my lips twitches, almost giving away my smirk. I clear my throat, leaning back in my chair, my eyes scanning the room.
Clear arrogance in Eric's eyes.
Ambition in Elena's.
Calm confidence in Mark's.
Pure bliss in Luke's.
And… emptiness in Nova's.
I clench the pen under the table so hard I feel the cold metal press against my palm. My face remains neutral, but my heart is begging for her to just look at me.
But she doesn't.
And I pretend to focus on my laptop, masking the silent scream that refuses to leave my throat.
I inhale slowly, slipping back into my professional front.
I give them feedback on their proposals, and they jot everything down in their notepads. It reminds me—
Not everyone is born with a photographic memory like me.
"So, Luke, your proposals will be pushed forward for this season's takeovers," I announce calmly.
Eric's eyes widen in disbelief.
Elena digs her nails into her knuckles so hard it leaves bruises.
Nova looks at Luke with admiration and respect.
Mark's jaw clenches.
And Luke blinks, clueless about what just happened.
"You'll all receive your regular work after lunch," I say, leaning forward. "A few months later, there'll be another friendly competition. I expect a better show next time."
They all nod.
I notice Nova glancing at her phone repeatedly—not something she usually does. Her posture is uneasy and stiff.
I want to ask what's troubling her so much.
But I don't.
I just clench my pen so hard I fear even a custom-made fountain pen won't bear the force inside me.
I stand up and leave the room, my breathing slow. Too slow.
The day continues normally. Spreadsheets, meetings, my role as Deputy VP—embracing my disguise as Aaron Erikson.
I keep stealing glances at Nova. She's checking her phone too often, her jaw tightening each time she looks at the screen.
Even Luke, who usually jokes to lighten the mood, dares not say a word today—she's giving off warning signs.
I clear my throat, unable to hold back any longer.
Fuck you, Aaron William Laurent.
You've clearly become a lost cause.
"Is everything okay, Nova?" I ask, keeping my tone calm and casual.
She stiffens for a moment and looks at me. Her brown eyes are bright, full of emotions I can't read—but I want to.
"All okay, Mr. Erikson."
And nothing else.
I lick my lips, trying to find an opening to start a conversation.
I thought she'd be mad or sad about losing her chance to win. Maybe accuse me of sabotaging her—which I didn't, but I wouldn't mind if it got her attention.
But she looks rather calm. Too calm.
I sigh after twenty good minutes of thinking of every excuse to start a conversation.
Each sounds worse than the last.
Would you like to have lunch?
Do you need help with work?
How's your body? Are you sore somewhere?
Did you miss me? Because I did.
How does a walk and ice cream sound?
I sigh for the seventh time in twenty minutes and shake my head before leaving the room for another meeting—or so I tell myself.
The meeting is with the marketing team, basically Julian's shadow, but none of them recognize me.
Of course, they wouldn't. I never show my face in public, unlike Julian and my younger sister, Camilia.
After the meeting, it's already 5 PM. I slip out, needing a cigarette break.
My mind bounces between the cold war between me, my uncle, and Julian… my bad blood with Sebastian… the situation with my secret gambling houses in LA and Macau… and my Nova.
The rooftop of the 30th floor greets me with a warm breeze.
The afternoon sun paints the skyline red and orange, reflecting against the glass and steel towers of London.
I take my usual spot at the corner wall, light up a cigarette, and take a long drag.
Letting the smoke settle in my lungs for a moment, I exhale slowly. The smoke swirls around my lips. I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the cold wall.
Then suddenly—breaking the silence—the elevator opens.
Heels click hard and angry against the marble floor.
"Nini, please listen to me!"
A crying female voice catches my ear. Great. Some emotional drama again.
Seriously, I wonder why the hell my father thought it necessary to open a space on the 30th floor.
All people do here is smoke, fuck, or have emotional breakdowns.
"Beatrix Wolff!"
My eyes widen.
Not just at the name—
But the voice.
Angry. Disappointed. Sharp.
It belongs to Nova. And Beatrix Wolff.
My eyes sharpen. Crushing my cigarette under my shoe, I turn off my phone.
There are too many Beatrix Wolffs in the world…
Yet the chance of my Nova knowing that Beatrix Wolff—the Wolff family heiress—was something I never dared to imagine.
"Nini, please," Beatrix chokes through tears, voice trembling. "Please, at least try to understand me!"
Nova gasps in disbelief. "Betty, if you'd killed someone in self-defense, I would've understood. But this?"
A shiver runs down my spine.
I sneak a peek—and catch a glimpse of the two women. They look more like lovers caught in betrayal.
Nova's face contorts with anger and pain.
And Beatrix… the woman I recognized from Chi Lou—wearing blue jeans and a black top, cheeks red from crying, blonde hair thrown into a messy bun.
And it makes me smirk as I take in her face and match it to my memory from distance 20 years ago.
Last time, I didn't bother looking closely at Nova's blonde friend because my eyes were on her.
But today… I see her clearly.
I saw her nearly twenty years ago—at her mother's funeral. The resemblance between her and her father is undeniable.
It's like she's the female version of him.
My heart race fast in anticipation and thrill... Finding the card Sebastian kept hidden.
Beatrix Elizabeth Wolff.
I really found you—in the most unexpected situation.
And given how she and Nova are on nickname terms, I can say without a doubt—they're close friends.
And Beatrix has fucked up big time.
"Nini, please understand. I love him, and he loves me. We aren't doing something wrong!" Beatrix shakes her head desperately.
Nova looks at her in disbelief.
And what I hear next—
It's even more shocking than Nova and Beatrix being friends.
A revelation that solves 80% of the mystery of why a genius hacker like Beatrix works with Sebastian to give me and Nikolai a hard time.
"Beatrix Wolff… Sebastian Von Kleist is a fucking married man with two kids and a wife! You're his fucking mistress, not his lover!"
My hand freezes while holding my phone.
Beatrix sobs but doesn't deny it.
Nova fumes with anger and disappointment.
I move back and cover my mouth—because fuck—
I'm smiling.
A manic kind of smile I haven't allowed myself in years.
My blood runs hot, my head rings, my hands shake from the adrenaline.
Because—
Sebastian Von Kleist and Beatrix Elizabeth Wolff having an affair…
Isn't that worth abusing?