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She's behind this door. But if she's behind this door, then that means…
Is she one of Norman's people?
"Sir, is everything okay?" one of the lawyers asks, and I tighten my jaw, unable to grasp what this emotion is inside me.
"Let's go," I breathe, my hand tightening around the door handle.
Right now, the worst thoughts are flittering through my head, none of them flattering to the woman I thought was mine.
Opening the door, I step inside, my legal team right behind me. I'm hit by that sweet scent, and it's as if no one else exists in this room. There is only one female. My eyes meet hers, and for a moment, I see a steadiness in her gaze, only for it to be replaced by pure shock and horror. That's all it takes for me to know that our meeting that night was accidental.
Her hair isn't inky black. It's a gorgeous silver color, tied in a loose bun. Without her makeup, she doesn't look plain, but she looks simple and sweet. Her dress is conservative, and her posture is rigid.
I know it's her.
There is no mistaking that scent and those eyes.
And I also know who she is.
Dad's little sponsor project.
It angers me. It infuriates me that the woman meant for me is no more than that pathetic little charity case girl whom my father always kept close to him. No wonder I couldn't find her. Cynthia Rose is my father's pet project. She doesn't so much as breathe without his approval. She's also the reason his business took off a couple of years ago. Dad's secret weapon is my fated mate.
It must be my anger driving me because I tear my gaze from her and turn my attention toward my younger brother.
"Norman." My voice is cold. "Why must you make a nuisance of yourself? You really have no self-awareness. I've had several reports of your little tantrum in my lobby last week."
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood, Adam," Norman sneers. "And it's not my fault your staff is so incompetent they can't even differentiate between important visitors and the normal ones."
"You're not a VIP here, Norman." I take a seat at the head of the table. "Now, do you want to tell me why you're wasting my time today?"
Norman tosses a file my way, and it lands on the table, skidding forward. I raise a brow at his rudeness, and I catch Cynthia wince.
"Is this supposed to mean something?" I ask, blankly.
"Well, pick it up and see," Norman orders.
"You," I look at Cynthia who flinches, "pick up the file your boss threw at me and hand it to me properly, or you can all just get lost."
She moves quickly, and as she picks it up, the edges of her ears redden. When she hands it to me, I take a discreet sniff of her scent, and my wolf purrs in approval. She's washed off my scent, but there's enough lingering for me to feel satisfied. She hands it to me, and I notice her simple cut nails. There is no glaring red nail polish that made those thin fingers stand out.
I hand the file to one of my lawyers, and he goes over it quickly.
He shakes his head at me a moment later, and I shrug, "Too bad. We don't like your offer."
I get to my feet, adjusting my jacket. "Now, if that's all––"
"What the fuck do you mean you don't like it?" Norman snarls. "You're lucky I'm offering that much for your piss-poor excuse for a company."
My lips curve. "If it's so piss poor, why are Father and you so desperate to get your hands on it?"
"Listen, you basta––"
"What Mr. Moore is trying to say," Cynthia immediately interjects, her voice calm. She's not meeting my gaze entirely, but her posture is firm and confident now. "Is that, this is just the starting ground. If you have a demand, we're willing to go over it and begin negotiations."
I open my mouth but don't trust myself to speak for a few seconds. When I do manage to get the words out, I say, "At least one of you has a brain. We're not selling this company, but we are looking for investors. So come up with something reasonable, and I might not consider it a waste of my time."
Saying that, I walk out, my legal team on my heels.
