Meetings
Blake’s blazer sat snug across her torso, allowing movement but accentuating the swell of her ample bosom and the sinched waistline of her midriff. The burgundy material was high-end, no doubt. A black, silk blouse hugged her frame with absolute lethal effect. A pearl necklace braced itself against her elegant collarbone with the grace of a queen, and the precision of a war general. Her posture within the conference room had always been tense, but this? This had been a stiff back, neck, and soul. One meaning war and consequence. She’d been anticipating the meeting her assistant, Jackson, had set up for quite some time. It’d been two weeks since the personal assistant of Brooks Ventures had called her own assistant, wanting to set an appointment to merge a specific project, and what had been described as an opportunity she simply could not refuse. She felt sorely mistaken for believing that for once, someone would’ve been able to convince her that she would benefit severely from their proposal.
She’d felt cheated, sitting there for two minutes past the meeting time that had been initially scheduled. No one had ever been so blatantly disrespectful of her time before. Even if they hadn’t expected her to be a woman in the first place. The world of multibillionaire business and entrepreneurship had never been easy, especially for a woman. That was given that her parents, although wealthy and leaving a hefty inheritance in her name upon their passing eight years prior after a freak plane crash, had treated her like she had been utterly disposable; Blake had decided that she could do more and that she was worth more, and she made that simple fact known. If you blew your chance once, it was exceedingly rare, if possible, to get another chance to prove your worth.
Blake had made it abundantly clear; she had little to no time to waste on frugal opportunities and less than worthy proposals. There had been many companies that had wanted to obtain mergers or deals that would gain millions in revenue, but if Blake felt even the slightest twinge in her gut that it would not work out, then she wouldn’t even attempt. Call it old-fashioned, or maybe just plain intuition, but the woman had a knack for business opportunity. Not to mention, she could read people like a biblical verse. She’d learned from a young age not to trust kind smiles and sweeter words; it had been proven that neither were ever what they seemed to be. Especially from men.
They tended to look down on women most times, even underestimating them to catastrophic levels. No one ever expected someone with a name like Blake Londyn to be a woman, but goodness, when they found out their facial expressions were priceless. Blake glanced at the clock on the far wall, deciding, three minutes and she’d be out of there. Appointment cancelled, never to be rescheduled. The seconds ticked by, maybe two minutes and a few seconds.
“Blake, your four o’clock is here.” Blake heard the familiar, cautious tone of her receptionist, Mara Winston, speak through the conference room intercom, just a minute before she’d agreed to never do business with Brooks Ventures again. A heavy sigh escaped her plump mouth before she pressed the button to respond. “Thank you, Mara. Send them in.” She replied with a tone of utter disdain at having been kept waiting when surely there were other things that demanded her attention much more adamantly than Brooks Ventures. Especially if they couldn’t even be bothered to show up on time.
Blake waited a few minutes before the door to the conference room opened. She’d never been one for ‘backup’ per se. Never really needed it. A petite woman entered first, offering an apologetic smile firsthand before an athletically framed, tall man entered afterwards. The lady’s frame, although small, was tense with barely unshed nerves and calculation, wearing a navy-blue pantsuit that hugged the small frame of her with professional precision. Her hair was a golden blonde, shifting past her shoulders in graceful waves, if not a bit frizzy from Californian humidity. The man, hair dark and styled within an inch of its life with possibly too much hair gel, and far too much regret, stalked into the room with a grimace made for waging wars against happiness and strikes against not enough caffeine. The woman began in a friendly tone. “Hello, I hope it hasn’t caused too much inconvenience for you that we arrived a tad late. Something rather important came up.” Although kind, her tone went to a slightly higher pitch seeing Blake sitting alone in the conference room, seemingly ready to offer a refusal no matter what the words that were presented to her would be. Blake’s lips quirked slightly, offering an almost imperceptible smirk. Mr. Brooks, the muscular figure in a black suit with a pristine white undershirt appeared closely behind the woman.
Blake gestured to the seats surrounding the long, mahogany table. “Please, seat yourselves and get comfortable. I foresee this to be a rather long meeting given the circumstances. Can I offer you something to drink? Water, tea, coffee… Maybe, Reisling for you, Ms. Dean… Perhaps a whiskey neat, Mr. Brooks?” Blake’s voice came even. A slight scolding tone took place in accordance with the tardiness presented by the two before her.
Mr. Brooks raised a brow in what seemed to be amusement, perhaps a dash of irritation. “Whiskey. On the rocks, of course.” He requested, his tone deadpan, sarcastic even. Blake smirked. She’d noticed the slight hesitation in his voice. Though it remained a deep baritone, it pitched just slightly higher. He was trying to maintain a more masculine image in front of her. He didn’t even fully understand she’d be the one he was meeting with, that much was obvious by the way he took his seat and shifted uncomfortably. Blake smirked slightly at the thought. His expression would soon shift.
“When will Mr. Londyn be joining us for the merger proposal?” Ms. Dean asked, as if reading her boss’s mind promptly. Blake let out a startling laugh. Her grin widening to showcase a set of perfectly white, straight teeth while peering at the two who held incredulous features. “I apologize for my brevity, but what on earth would be this funny to you? Do you think Mr. Londyn would improve of such behavior?” Mr. Brooks spoke with utter disbelief, his eyes widening at Blake for a moment before regaining composure, his mouth formed a tight, thin line of frustration, causing Blake to let out another laugh.
“Oh, you’re rather slow to join the meeting, aren’t you?” Blake spoke with absolute elation, examining her latest manicure’s handiwork. A beautiful, deep red that reminded her of the rich color of blood. Thrilling, but terrifying if not used to the scent filling the water with fresh bait. “Allow me to properly introduce myself, Mr. Brooks.” She continued, her dark brow arching elegantly and glacier eyes peering smugly at the man before her. His own brows raised in defiant disbelief.
“I’m Blake Londyn. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Blake spoke with an ecstatic amusement at the way she witnessed Mr. Brooks’ face shift between disbelief, bewilderment, and finally, a fierce form of nervousness that made his spine tense and his face sinch in worry. A single thought formed in her mind, remaining ever present as she watched the same shift of behavior from Mr. Brooks’ assistant, Ms. Dean.
Oh, this shall be fun. Very, very fun.
