“Damn it! Damn it!” Blake muttered to himself, leaned back against the back of the couch and covered his face with his hand.
He regretted allowing his father to dictate to him. He regretted loving riches so much that he wasn’t able to fight back then for the woman he loved.
He dropped his empty glass on the table and wobbled upstairs into his bedroom.
He sat on the edge of his massive king-sized bed to kicked off his shoes and then stripped down. He dropped his suit in the laundry basket. And under the shower for a hot shower. He dried off his body and took a fresh pair of pajamas out from the drawer.
Putting them on, he slid under the sheets and closed his eyes. With the alcohol in his system and the effects of the orgasm he had ours ago, it didn’t take him long to fall into a deep sleep.
The early morning sun was streaming into his room by the time he was conscious again. He rolled out of the bed and was under the shower in minutes.
At eight twenty-nine, his driver stopped the car in Blake’s designated parking space on the premises of Carter Industries. He climbed out of the back of the car and strode in long strides to the elevator, which took him to the fourteenth floor, which was only occupied by the top management staff only.
The elevator doors slid open, Blake stepped out. He adjusted his tie, a practiced habit that usually ginger up his confidence to face the day.
“Good morning, Mr. Carter,” Vanessa chirped as he stepped into her office. Sliding her pair of glasses up on the ridge of her nose with a bright smile on her lips.
“Good morning Vanessa,” he greeted back with a nod and opened his office door. She followed on his heels.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit Blake the moment she opened the door and stepped in.
“Your coffee.” She gave him a professional smile and placed the steaming mug on his desk.
“Thank you.” He picked the mug up and took two sips of the black drink.
“You have a busy day today,” Vanessa swiped across her iPad. “A meeting in the next thirty-two minutes with the marketing team in the conference room 5, followed by a conference call with the Atlanta office.” She cleared her throat. “You and Derek have a lunch meeting with Bishop Simon at Cantina Luxe at two pm. Your reservation is confirmed already.”
Blake took another sip of his coffee and looked on.
“There’s a board meeting at 3:00 pm and you asked me to put Davis on your schedule today. I have asked him to come in by 5:00 pm. I will put your schedule up on your screen now.”
“Okay, thank you, Vanessa,” he looked away at the document he just opened. “I need Adams King and F&F. Can you get them ready by the time I finish with the marketing department?”
“Yes, please, Mr. Carter,” she readjusted her glasses and left to look for the file. “Is that all?”
“Yes, Vanessa, for now,” he gave her an appreciative smile.
The elderly woman left for her office, closing Blake’s office door gently.
The meeting with the marketing team took just one hour. He returned to the office and buried himself in work until one thirty when Derek called to remind him of their lunch meeting.
“I’ll be there,” he chuckled. “I need to quickly dash to my old man’s office to brief him on a project, then I will leave. Cantina Luxe is less than a ten minutes’ drive from here, don’t worry.”
Derek mumbled something that made Blake burst into laughter, then he ended the call and returned the receiver to its place. He stood up and tossed his phone into his jacket pocket. He picked up the two files Vanessa set out on his desk earlier and left for his father’s office.
He knocked twice and waited for his father’s voice to ask him to come in. Black opened the door and strode into his father’s newly renovated office.
Gerald Carter’s office had always been a sanctuary of quiet premium luxury. His wife had always taken it upon herself to renovate and remodel her husband’s office every three years. Even when the company merged with Stacy’s father’s company, she still did it.
Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a mahogany desk that gleamed like polished obsidian. On the walls hung framed photographs of Gerald with business leaders and celebrities, each a testament to his success. A meticulously curated collection of antique books lined the shelves, their leather spines whispering tales of history and wisdom. A massive fireplace crackled in the corner, casting dancing shadows on the Persian rug beneath Blake’s feet as he walked further into the large room. The air was thick with the aura of affluence and authority, as usual.
“Hey, Blake,” Gerald’s face lightened up. He dropped the pen in his hand and leaned back in his leather seat. “How do you do?”
“Great Dad.” he loosened one of his jacket buttons and sat across from his father.
“What’s up?” Gerald sat upright. “Is today not your meeting with the hotel guy?”
Even though the hotel deal was Blake’s personal business. His father was still interested in the outcome of the deal.
“Yeah, it’s today,” Blake slid the two files across to his father. “And I will leave soon. I think we are about to lose B&G and also Holloway accounts.”
“What do you mean?” His father’s interest piqued up. “How so? We’ve been working with them for years.”
“Dad,” he moved forward. “I got it from a very reliable source that Peridot is already in talks with them.”
“So, what do you suggest?” He looked perceptively into his son’s eyes.
“Not to worry Dad,” he stood up with a smug smile on his face. I’m already on it. I met with the marketing unit today and I have instructed the marketing director to get to work.”
“Bravo,” his father’s tense posture relaxed. He leaned back in his seat again, the leather quaking with his movement. “I am so proud of you, son.”
“Thanks Dad.” He buttoned his jacket. “I will be on my way for my meeting now.”
“I saw your picture with her.”
His father’s baritone voice stopped him mid way
“What picture?” Blake looked back.
“So is she the one, huh?” He winked at his son. “Cassie.”
“Oh, Cassie,” he dipped his hand in his pocket.
He had seen their pictures all over the Internet and various speculations from the press.
“Nah,” he shook his head. “I am just her friend.”
“Friends?” Gerald’s demeanor changed. “Friend? Friend who goes into a lady friend’s house in the evening and sneaks out at midnight?”
He was so sure it was his mom who showed his dad all the stories about them from the junk blogs.
“Stop allowing Mom to feed you with junk from her society blogs.” He swung his hand up to check the time. “I have the run,” he chuckled and hurried out of his father’s office.