In Roland's office, the man sitting behind the desk was gloomily eyeing the report Andreas had just handed him.
"Last night," Andreas continued, his voice a mix of sweat and nervousness, "Chelly Jean tried to drug you and climb into your bed. For a measly small company, they sure have the balls to scheme like that. Do they also buy into the rumor that if she gets into your bed, your parents will force you to marry her?"
"How naive," Roland scoffed, standing in front of him. Andreas was literally sweating bullets from his forehead, knowing his boss was beyond pissed this time.
With much difficulty, he continued, "The person who booked that hotel room last night was Sandra Romualdez."
Roland looked up; the name rang a bell. "She's the owner of OS Allure, the clothing brand Madam wants to collaborate with," he finally remembered.
Sandra wasn't accomplished with drugging him; he knew that much. Ever since last night, he'd been struggling to focus on his work because those scenes kept replaying in his mind. It felt like it had woken up a sleeping beast inside him, making him thirsty for more. He wanted more and more of her.
"Mr. Fleming, how do you want to proceed?" Andreas inquired, seeing Roland go silent.
Roland picked up his phone instead of answering, dialing a number. After a couple of rings, the call was picked up.
"If it's not about my collaboration with OS Allure, I don't want to hear it," his mother, Rosa, spoke heartlessly.
"Mom, if you want to collaborate with that company, you have to come and do it personally," Roland said.
"What are you talking about! You told me last week you weren't that busy and could handle a small matter!" Rosa was losing her temper, not only because her unfilial, unemotional son couldn't give her a daughter-in-law, but now he couldn't even finish a simple favor. How disappointing.
"Mom, you do it yourself. I don't want to mix business with personal affairs," Roland said calmly. "I don't want to discuss collaboration with your soon-to-be daughter-in-law."
Andreas, standing by the side, nearly fainted from shock, his jaw practically hitting the floor. He shook his head and cleaned his ears, thinking he must've heard wrong.
Rosa, on the other hand, suddenly realized what was going on and started giggling. "Son, are you telling the truth?"
"Hmm," Roland only mumbled in confirmation, not elaborating further.
"Okay, schedule the meeting, and I'll fly there ASAP," Rosa said, dropping the call without waiting for a response. She excitedly gripped her phone and waddled to her husband's office with a cheshire cat grin. Why shouldn't she be happy? Her son, who was practically Satan incarnate, had finally found a woman to tame him. And she was even happier that the woman he wanted was the owner of OS Allure, a clothing brand she adored. She was over the moon.
She threw open her husband's office door and announced with glee, "Old man, I'm flying to P-Country to meet our daughter-in-law, and you're coming with me!"
Robert Fleming, who had just taken a sip of tea, suddenly spat it out all over his desk, utterly flabbergasted by his wife's declaration.
"Whose daughter-in-law?" Robert Fleming asked, after he'd collected himself and started wiping his mouth. An attendant was already busy cleaning the tea off his desk.
"Our daughter-in-law! That rascal Roland has finally started showing some sense!" Rosa answered, chattering non-stop with a happy face, already envisioning spoiling a daughter-in-law.
"Wife, have you been spying on your son again?" Robert asked suspiciously, knowing his wife all too well.
Rosa scoffed indignantly. "Of course not! He said it himself! He doesn't want to handle the business for Rose Couture because he's wooing the owner and doesn't want to mix business with personal affairs."
Rosa's chatter was relentless while Robert fell into deep thought. If it hadn't come straight from his son's mouth, he wouldn't have believed it. He knew Roland too well. It seemed like some formidable woman had finally broken through the fortress Roland had built against the opposite sex over the years. Robert couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. He was already imagining little Rolands running around the house pretty soon.
"You need to call Joseph now, wife, and ask him to book the soonest flight," he interrupted her endless chatter.
"Oh, that's right! I'll talk to you later," Rosa said, looking like she'd just remembered something important. She then waddled out of the office with the grace and a big grin on her face.
Robert sat back, chuckling to himself. The thought of his son, who'd been more guarded than Fort Knox, finally falling for someone was the comedic highlight of his month. He could already see the headlines: "Ice King Melts – Family Gears Up for Wedding Bells!"
...
After a full day of rest, Sandra felt rejuvenated and energetic enough to return to work. She had multiple client meetings scheduled for the day and was determined to ensure everything went smoothly. As she worked at her desk, Rayna entered the room and announced, "Boss, something's happened."
Sandra froze, her worry palpable as she looked up at Rayna, only to see a face brimming with excitement.
"The Rosé Couture just contacted us," Rayna said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "They want to meet you for a potential partnership!"
Sandra's heart pounded with disbelief. Rosé Couture was an international brand; she was skeptical. "Rayna, that must be a scam. There's no way a brand like that would approach a second-tier local company like ours," she said, her voice laced with suspicion as she turned back to her computer.
"Right? I thought so too," Rayna agreed, "until they said the owner will be flying here tomorrow to meet you personally."
"Rosa Fleming?" Sandra asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes!" Rayna could hardly contain her excitement.
Sandra tried to maintain her composure, but her throat felt dry, and her hands began to tremble slightly, making it impossible to continue typing.
"Let's do it," she decided with a firm nod. "When am I free?"
"The day after tomorrow would be perfect. I'll respond to them now," Rayna said, practically bouncing out of the room with eagerness.
Now alone, Sandra fell into deep thought. The situation felt surreal, and it hadn't sunk in yet. An enormous opportunity was knocking at her door, yet she was scared. She worried she might be biting off more than she could chew.
Could she truly collaborate with such a company? Or were they trying to expand and devour local competition in the country? She had to be cautious; she didn't want to hope too much, but she was ambitious at heart.
Sandra couldn't concentrate on her tasks anymore and decided to do some research instead. Typing "Rosé Couture" into her computer, she knew the owner was Rosa Fleming, and that it was a subsidiary of Fleming Corps, run by Roland Fleming's mother. For reasons she couldn't fathom, her hand clicked on Roland Fleming's profile, and a photo of him on the cover of a business magazine appeared.
The moment she saw his sharp, handsome face, scenes from that night at the hotel flashed through Sandra's mind. She shook her head briskly and took a deep breath, trying to dispel the images.
How could she think of that night just by looking at any man's face? She must be turning into a pervert, she thought, feeling too distracted to continue. She stood up and walked out of the office to get some fresh air. She had a meeting scheduled in 30 minutes at a nearby café.
She planned to head there early to relax a bit. Walking from her office to the café, after ordering, she found a seat by the window where she could soak up enough sunlight.
On the curbside in front of the coffee shop where Sandra sat, a man was positioned in a low-profile, luxurious Maybach, his eyes squinting as he watched her intently. Sandra looked up, her gaze catching the car that seemed to be observing her, but all she could see was the reflection on the dark-tinted window.
In the driver's seat, Andreas waited for his boss's command. He knew that Roland was on a mission to pursue the future Lady of the Flemings.
"I'm thirsty," Roland suddenly said.
"Would you like me to order something for you from inside, Mr. Fleming?" Andreas quickly responded.
"No, let's go inside," Roland replied, already opening the car door and walking towards the café before Andreas could even finish his sentence. Andreas sighed, hurriedly got out of the car, and followed.
Roland entered the café and went straight to the table beside Sandra's. He sat in such a way that he was facing the opposite direction from Sandra, who noticed him the moment he sat down. She caught a whiff of a familiar scent but couldn't place where she had smelled it before; however, it quickly dissipated.
Sandra glanced at the man to her left front and saw that he was looking at her intently, without blinking. There was no animosity in his eyes, just a serious, poker-faced expression with deep, penetrating eyes fixed on her. Feeling awkward, she frowned, recognizing the man as Roland Fleming. What was a big shot like him doing in this modest café?
She couldn't bear to look at him anymore and turned her attention back to the papers she'd been working on. But concentration eluded her; in her peripheral vision, it seemed the man was still watching her.
At the counter, while waiting for his payment to be processed, Andreas watched his boss, shaking his head slightly. "I knew it," he mumbled to himself, thinking, 'His boss definitely has zero experience in love, let alone courtship. He's definitely scaring his future lady boss.'
After paying, Andreas sat down in front of his boss and kept quiet while Roland continued to gaze at his soon-to-be lovely wife.
Roland observed his wife—yes, in his mind, she was already his. He admired her fair neck framed by long, shiny, straight black hair. She wore a red, long-sleeved silk blouse, with a couple of buttons undone, giving him a full view of her collarbone. Her lips were adorned with peach-colored lipstick, complemented by very light facial makeup. She was beautiful, very beautiful. He was tempted to pin her down on the table, to rip off all her clothes right then and there.
But something irritated him: the wildcat didn't recognize him at all. It seemed he hadn't left much of an impression. Before he could think of a way to approach her, a baritone voice rang out, "Miss Romualdez?"
All three looked up to see a handsome, sunny-faced man in a suit sit down in front of Sandra. She stood, shook his hand, and smiled beautifully at him.
"Mr. Arrevalo," she said. Roland finally heard her voice, melodious like an angel, though he preferred the sound of it from that night when she was begging him to stop.
Roland swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He then looked at the man in front of Sandra and felt an immediate dislike; he was an eyesore.