The air in the room grew stifling, charged with a sudden, frantic energy. The press was on the verge of a riot, desperate to uncover the identity of the man who had just shattered the morning's professional calm. Before the chaos could swallow them whole, and before the media could capture another second of the electric tension between them, Phoebe turned to Raymond, her gaze hard and uncompromising.
"Follow me!" She didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed his hand, her fingers locking around his wrist as she pulled him toward the exit. Raymond offered no resistance. In fact, his gaze dropped, his focus shifted to the heat of her fingers against his skin. He didn't pull away, instead, he watched the way she gripped him, as if enjoying the brief moment of her touch.
Behind them, Riana was left to face a firing squad of questions, standing paralyzed in the wake of a storm she couldn't explain.
"Where are we going in such aa hurry?" Raymond asked, his voice dangerously smooth. When Phoebe shot a sharp glace over her shoulder, she found him wearing a faint, effortless smile, as if he were exactly where he wanted to be.
Phoebe came to a dead halt once they were shielded from the cameras. She whirled around to face him, her breathing shallow. "To the point. I don't have time for games."
Raymond nodded slowly, his expression shifting into something more calculated. Small talk had never been his forte either.
"What is you goal? Why show up here and tell them I'm with you?!"
Raymond stepped closer, invading her space until the scent of his expensive cologne overwhelmed her senses. "To let them know," he murmured, his eyes tracking every flicker of emotion on her face, "that the beautiful woman standing before me Is exactly where she belongs. With me."
"I am not close to you!" Phoebe snapped, her voice low but vibrating a sharp, lethal edge. She was a storm contained in a designer suit. "We aren't close at all, I don't even know who you are. Your statement back there was a blatant lie, and I will not tolerate it!"
"Are you quite sure about that?" Raymond asked, his voice a smooth, deep resonant that seemed to vibrate in the narrow hallway. "Are you truly certain you don't know me, Miss Fortunata?"
"Yes! You are a stranger to me!"
With a slow, deliberate grace, Raymond extended his hand. He didn't rush, he simply waited for her to take it. Phoebe didn't move. She stared at his hand as if it were a gilded trap, her eyes flashing with a mix of fury and suspicion.
Raymond gave a faint, knowing nod and pulled his hand back, sliding it effortlessly into his pocket. "Raymond Rodriguez." The name felt heavy, hanging in the air between them like a decree. "I find it hard to believe a CEO as brilliant as yourself would forget that name … or exactly what happened between us that night."
The air seemed to vanish from the hall. Phoebe felt a jagged chill pierce her chest, her heart skipping a beat. The memories of that night were a fractured mosaic, half-blurred, half-searing, but the sight of Raymond's dark, mocking smirk pulled a visceral reaction from her soul.
"Don't you dare bring that up here!" Her eyes darted frantically toward the corners of the corridor, her poise momentarily flickering into panic. "I won't have anyone knowing about … that!"
"We can speak elsewhere," Raymond offered, his composure unshakable. "Somewhere of your choosing, somewhere private."
"No! I'm not going anywhere with you!" Phoebe's jaw tightened. "I refuse to be seen with you, especially after that stunt you pulled."
Raymond's brow arched, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "I can arrange a place where only the two of us exist. If that is what it takes to satisfy your need for discretion."
The offer reeked of his immense, untouchable power. Phoebe looked a t him, really looked at him, and saw the aura of old money and absolute authority that clung to him like a second skin. He didn't need to shout to be heard, his silence was loud enough.
"I don't need your arrangements," she retorted, reclaiming her elegant mask. "What I need is for you to vanish, completely. Stop showing up in my life, stop appearing in front of the cameras, and stop feeding everyone these delusions. We are nothing to each other, and I won't have you pretending otherwise!"
Instead of being insulted, Raymond's smile deepened. He studied the way her nostrils flared in anger, the way she chose her words with surgical precision even while she was fuming. She wasn't just a woman throwing a tantrum, she was a queen defending her throne … and he liked it. He liked it far too much.
"Everyone will know eventually." Raymond's voice dropping into a tone that was both a promise and a threat. "Besides, you should get used to my presence. There will be many more meetings between us in the very near future."
Phoebe's brow furrowed, a cold knot of dread forming in her stomach. "What are you talking about?"
"Let us find a better place to talk." Raymond's voice dropping an octave as he heard the faint echo of footsteps, a sound Phoebe hadn't even noticed yet. Her eyes darted around as she saw him glance behind her. She followed his gaze and her heart sank, a group of reporters was already heading their way like sharks scenting blood.
"Argh! I don't have time for this!" Pheobe spun around and marched away, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. Raymond followed, his long, effortless strides easily matching her frantic pace.
"Stop following me! I'm leaving, and it's not to find a private place to talk. I'm going back to my office to work!" Phoebe snapped as she reached her car. She turned to him one last time, her hand gripping the door handle. "And as for whatever nonsense you said earlier … I don't fucking care!"
She climbed into the driver's seat, ready to slam the door, but Raymond's voice stopped her cold. "By all means, get back to work … my beautiful perfume model."
Phoebe froze. She sat behind the wheel, staring straight ahead as the words echoed in her mind. A heavy silence filled the car. How did he know about the perfume? She tried to brush it off, the ads were everywhere now, surely he'd just seen a billboard. She slammed the door an drove away, leaving him standing there with that maddeningly calm expression.
As the city blurred past her window, Phoebe let out a long, frustrated breath. "People on this planet are so strange," she muttered to the empty car. "First he's in Italy, now suddenly he's in Australia. Doesn't he have anything better to do? No job?!"
But the annoyance didn't last. A sudden, chilling thought began to take root in her mind. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Did he just happen to be here … or was he waiting for me?" Her mind raced back to the mysterious admirer who had been showering her with gifts, and he challenge she had issued to her secret fan.
"No, it's impossible! A man like him couldn't be my secret admirer. He wouldn't gift me everything just because of that night, but why does this coincidence feel so … deliberate?"
Phoebe sped away, a whirlwind of static and suspicion, leaving the ghosts of her doubts behind as she disappeared into the morning traffic
Back at the entrance, Raymond remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the spot where her car had vanished. The frantic energy of the press meant nothing to him now, his world had narrowed down to a single target.
"You'll understand soon enough, Miss Fortunata."
A ghost of a smile graced his lips, not one of warmth, but of a man who had already seen the end of the game. He turned and walked away with a measured, predatory grace, every step a testament to a plan that was already flawlessly in motion.