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“Charlie, always a pleasure.”
Charlie ignores his comment, gesturing to me. “Milana, have you met Wesley, Emerson’s business partner? Oh, wait a minute, you mentioned you have.”
I stand, only having just sat down, and take the deepest of breaths as if I’m preparing to sing at the opera, and finally turn around.
His eyes are dancing sinfully, and he’s sporting a small smile that plays on his lips intending to make me quiver beneath my dress. The crisp white business shirt that sits beneath his navy suit is unbuttoned more so than usual, exposing his tanned chest.
Honestly, I could eat him whole.
Stop, you need to act professionally here.
I extend my hand while keeping my eye contact simple. “Yes, we’ve met. Pleased to see you again, Mr. Rich.”
There’s amusement in his eyes as I call him Mr. Rich, and I nervously pull my sweaty palm away and sit back down. Wesley walks around the table, positioning himself in front of me, placing his cell on the table.
My notebook, sitting on the table, now becomes my sole focus. I find myself doodling on the page knowing he’s watching me, then quickly write down some words to pretend that the way he’s staring at me isn’t affecting me whatsoever.
“I’m here… I’m here.” Emerson runs through the door, closing it behind her. She takes a moment to catch her breath, saying hello to everyone. As she sits, I examine her beautiful blouse. It’s an off-the-shoulder style and one she always pulls off very nicely. Emerson has gorgeous shoulders if that’s such a thing. They’re tanned, though she admits it’s spray, and she’s incredibly fit. The shade of light blue suits her light-colored hair that’s left loose today. Sometimes, the tone of her hair appears blonde, and other times, like now, it looks silver.
Nevertheless, Emerson’s very attractive, and her sitting beside me has me questioning my confidence, especially when she’s Wesley’s ex-fiancée. I mean, he wanted to marry her. That has to count for something, and they had this whole life planned out together.
“Okay, Charlie, give us the lowdown, please.”
“Right. So there’s a company in Greece, a rather large corporation, selling counterfeit designs of your latest line.”
“But how? We bought the patent rights to that dry-fit fabric?” Emerson questions, annoyed. “It’s illegal to reproduce, or for our manufacturer to be supplying this to anyone else—”
“We paid top dollar for these rights. Who are these people?” Wesley interrupts. “What kind of loss are we talking here?”
Charlie frowns, pushing a paper toward Wesley and Emerson. “I’m afraid we’re talking around two million.”
“Two. Million. Dollars!” Wesley yells, agitated. “How the fuck was this not picked up earlier?”
Emerson buries her head in her hands. “The finance department was reporting losses. We just narrowed it down to slow markets in Europe, and with the political changes being their focus.”
“You were reporting losses but didn’t bother to tell me?” Wesley fires back, clenching his fist that sits on the table, ready to pounce at any moment. The veins in his neck stand out—a trait I notice each time he reacts this way in my presence.
“Oh, please,” Emerson argues with a taunting laugh. “You don’t care what goes on. Why the sudden interest in holding onto this venture? When we were together, you didn’t give a goddamn shit what I did. If it made you look good, that’s all you damn well cared about.”
“And if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be this successful. This brand took off because our name was worth something. You were the one who decided to end that.”
“Because you were a cheating scumbag,” Emerson shouts back, much to my shock.
“Really?” Wesley deadpans. “So how is Carrington? I hear the Brazilian ladies are loving him being in Brazil without you.”
Emerson’s skin turns bright red, but her lips are stark white.
Charlie shrugs at me, half-heartedly, before putting a stop to this madness. “We’re not here to discuss your past or any personal matters. So please, for the sake of Milana and me, let’s not get into it. Now, here’s what we need to do next.”
It’s clear the magnitude of the problem has kept Charlie up all night. She hands Emerson and Wesley some legal documentation, explaining to them her discussions with a close lawyer acquaintance in Europe and some laws that could potentially protect the perpetrators.
The legal talk goes on for two hours. Refreshments are brought in—the coffee, my savior as always—and I try my best to note as much as I can with Emerson talking fast and arguing back and forth with Wesley.
It becomes difficult to focus on anything besides the animosity between these two ex-lovers.
And I wonder if I’m wearing the same rose-colored glasses that Emerson once wore? If things don’t work out between Wesley and me, will I resent and hate him as much as she does?
Doubt fill my overthinking mind. I try my best to concentrate on the real issue here, but every now and then, I f
