"Argh!" Phoebe let out a sharp cry of frustration. She tried to force herself to focus on her work, but it was useless. Her curiosity got the better of her, and her eyes kept drifting back to the news that was spreading like wildfire across the city, perhaps event the entire country. Her name was everywhere, peaking in popularity following that massive perfume campaign, an ad whose sudden appearance and scale she still couldn't quite explain.
Phoebe's hands clenched into tight fists, trembling with rage. 'My beautiful perfume model.'
Raymond's words echoed in her ears like persistent ghost. Could the person behind the sudden surge in those ads be the same one who had been showering her with lavish gifts? It was starting to make sense, but a small part of her heart desperately fought against the possibility that it was Raymond.
"What is he even doing here? My life was never supposed to cross paths with some gigolo I didn't ever order that night!" To Phoebe, that night was the ultimate disaster. If she could be grated a miracle, she could choose to erase it from existence entirely.
In the midst of her heated thoughts, a soft knock sounded at the door. "Are you in there?" A man's voice, one Phoebe knew well, handing her the drink. "I thought you might need something sweet right about now."
"Come in, I'm here."
Julian stepped into the office, carrying a large cup of crunchy caramel topped with the extra marshmallows Phoebe always reached for when her world grew too loud. He didn't need to ask, he simply knew the exact amount of sugar it took to quiet her mind.
"I figured you could use a distraction that tastes like a cure," Julian said calmly, handing her the drink. "Consider it a temporary shield against the rest of the world."
Phoebe exhaled sharply, a ragged breath escaping her lungs as she took the cup. She nodded and took a long sip. The cold, sugary liquid felt heavenly, its chill slowly numbing the chaotic heat that Raymond's presence had left behind.
"Feeling a little better?" Julian asked, noting the way her shoulders finally dropped after she had finished half the cup.
"It's been an exhausting day," Phoebe confessed, her voice thick with fatigue.
"Then rest. You need it."
A heavy silence fell over the room as Phoebe stared at Julian for a long moment. "Julian," she whispered, her voice weak.
Julian nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. "Do you … know?" Phoebe asked tentatively.
"Yes, I know about the news," Julian replied softly, his voice full of understanding. "And I don't want to bombard you with questions right now. That isn't what you need."
A small, genuine smile finally tugged at Phoebe's lips. A wave of relief washed over her, grateful for Julian's quiet, unwavering support in a day that had otherwise been a storm.
****
Phoebe stepped out with a composed, effortless stride, despite the presence she already felt looming outside. Standing there was a man whose height and commanding silhouette she immediately knew did not belong to Julian. Her eyes widened.
"Good morning, Miss Fortunata," he greeted.
"What are you doing here?" Phoebe countered. She skipped the pleasantries, her curiosity about his presence far outweighed any desire to be polite.
"To drive you to the office," Raymond replied.
"I wasn't aware I was looking for a chauffeur," she said coldly.
The remark hit its mark, leaving Raymond momentarily silent. He hadn't expected such a sharp rebuff. "I have no interest in being a chauffeur either," he regained his footing, his voice a steady low hum. "But as your personal driver? I might consider it."
Phoebe walked toward him, her gaze locking onto the sharp, rugged lines of his jaw. She gestured toward his vehicle, a Mercedes-Benz G63 AMG in matte black, looking every bit like a high-end tank. She scanned it with visible distaste, as if the machine were beneath her.
"You expect me to go to the office in … this?"
"Is there a problem?" Raymond asked.
Phoebe shook her head just as the purr of her own car cut through the air. Her driver pulled up her Audi R8 Red Metallic, its paint shimmering like a fresh wound under the Sydney sun. an arrogant, faint smirk tugged at her lips.
"I'd rather drive my R8 than sit in a car where I can't be certain whose scent still lingers in the passenger seat," Phoebe said, her voice dripping with ice.
Raymond didn't flinch. Instead, he watched her with an intensity that suggested he found her defiance more intoxicating than insulting. "For your information, this car is brand new. I'm its first driver, and you would be its first passenger," he stated firmly, his tone level yet absolute. "If you're worried about sitting where some 'cheap woman' has been, I can assure you, that seat is as untouched as your pride."
Silence fell over her, Phoebe's eyes darting back to the G-Wagon, she knew he was telling the truth, a man of his stature didn't haul cars across oceans, he bought them upon arrival. But she wasn't ready to yield. She needed a way out, something to prove that his presence, however 'sincere', wouldn't be enough to move her.
"So, it's new?" A sharp arch of an eyebrow followed the question. A mocking smirk surfaced as soon as Raymond offered a brief nod. "Your taste in vehicles is … quite boring. It's aggressive, impressive to some, I suppose, but I find myself questioning your motive. Did you come here simply to flaunt your wealth to the world?" The gaze that met Raymond's was steady and unyielding, a look he hadn't received from a woman in a very long time.
"Regardless of the immense fortune you command, that car is not fit for me." A subtle flick of hair exuded an aura of quiet luxury, a charm that was as intoxicating as it was unattainable.
Seven-centimeter heels clicked against the pavement, moving toward the shimmering R8 Red Metallic. "Beyond my utter lack of interest in being near you, I refuse to settle for a seat in a steel tank. I prefer something fluid, something elegant. Something that actually reflects who I am!" Every step radiated a lethal confidence, a perfect mask for the fractured silence Nick had recently forced into her heart.
The words struck a chord in Raymond's ego, but instead of irritation, a small smile played on his lips. Closing the distance between them, a large hand rested against the car door, effectively blocking the path.
"Tell me then," came the low-voiced challenge, testing the limits of the woman before him. "What kind of car would be worthy of picking you up? What would it take for you to feel comfortable in the passenger seat?"
"If you lack the imagination to think for yourself, I suppose I could offer a recommendation." Elegance dictated the stance, there was no retreat into the car, only a firm stand right in front of him. "Something as simple as a Porsche 911 or an Aston Martin Vanquish."
Raymond's brow twitched, a fraction of a second where his composure seemed to falter. He let out a dry, short breath, his gaze lingering on the sharp lines of her face, as if calculating the sheer audacity of her demand. To any other man, such a request would be a blatant insult, an impossible hurdle designed to drive him away. He looked almost burdened by the task, his jaw tightening as he stared at her, silent and seemingly outmatched.
Phoebe didn't blink. She savored the brief flicker of what looked like hesitation in his eyes, a small victory for her ego. With a slow, condescending smile, she finally leaned back into the leather embrace of her driver seat.
"Beyond your beauty, you actually have excellent taste," Raymond remarked, his voice reaching her through the open window.
"Of course I do. My taste is impeccable, which includes choosing a personal driver who looks nothing like you."
A deepening smirk was the only reply. A woman with a spine, someone who didn't just bow to his every word, had finally been found. "And what colors are you eyeing, Miss Fortunata?"
"Emh … Frozen Berry Metallic for the Porsche," she said, shifting into gear. "Or a Vanquish in Liquid Crimson."
Her gaze remained fixed forward, not granting him the satisfaction of a second look. "I've wasted enough time on you for one morning," came the final dismissal as the engine of the car surged forward, leaving nothing but a cloud of expensive exhaust and fading scent of her defiance.
Raymond remained motionless, his silhouette framed by the morning sun as he watched the red streak vanish into the Sydney traffic. A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn't look like a man who had just been rejected, he looked like a man who had finally found something worth buying.
"You're indeed unlike any woman I've ever encountered," he murmured to the empty air, his voice vibrating with a dark, calculated admiration. "And I will make certain that I am a man unlike any you've ever dared to imagine. One way or another, Miss Fortunata, you will find that I always get exactly what I want."
To Raymond Rodriguez, she wasn't just a woman anymore, she was the ultimate acquisition, and he had never lost a negotiation in his life.
As the roar of her engine faded into the distance, a silent question lingered in the morning air. Could two people who lived to conquer ever truly stand side by side, or were they merely destined to collide until only wreckage remained?