English Version: Sands & Sparrow

14

Absorbed in her work, Margo Sinclair elegantly penned her signature across the overflow of documents sprawled before her. The scratch of her Mont Blanc pen against the premium paper was the only sound in the quiet office, its mahogany furnishings and floor-to-ceiling windows exuding an air of power and wealth.

"I'd like to convene with our new client, Diana, and please cancel my subsequent appointment," she instructed in a tone that married authority with nonchalance. At the same time, her piercing green eyes remained steadfastly affixed to the task at hand. Her perfectly manicured nails gleamed under the soft light of her desk lamp.

"Is there anything else you require, Miss Sinclair?" Diana inquired as she stood, tablet in hand and ready to note any additional requests.

"Just that, thank you," Margo replied, her attention unwavering from the papers.

Diana nodded, her heels clicking softly on the floor. "The meeting is set to start in fifteen minutes. I shall take my leave now, Miss Sinclair."

Acknowledging with a simple nod, Margo's focus didn't stray from the documents. She rose only when the last signature was etched, smoothing her impeccable white dress. She proceeded to the boardroom where her team awaited, seated around the polished oak table, expecting the client's arrival.

Impatience lightly creased Margo's brow as she inquired, "Why the delay?" Her eyes flicked to her Cartier watch, a hint of irritation threading through her composed manner.

"Mr. Veron assured us of his arrival," Diana reassured her.

"Another minute's wait, and if he's absent, we'll consider the deal void," Margo declared with finality.

The atmosphere tensed for a moment until the door swung open. A collective gasp filled the room, and all eyes were drawn to it except Margo's, which remained impassive.

The famous socialite and model Ophelia Veron entered, her presence commanding attention. Her golden hair fell over her shoulders, and her designer outfit screamed haute couture.

"Miss Ophelia Veron?" Diana's voice broke through the silence, tinged with surprise and a hint of awe.

Apologizing for her tardiness, Ophelia's crisp and captivating voice filled the room, "I'm sorry for being late. I'm representing my father today." She took her seat, her confidence unmarred by the room's tension, crossing her long legs with practiced grace.

"Let's commence," Margo stated, her voice steady, choosing to overlook the newcomer's late entrance.

After an hour of negotiations and strategic discussions, the meeting ended.

"Can I talk to you, Margo?" Ophelia slowly approached her, her perfume, an expensive combination of jasmine and sandalwood, floating through the air.

"Sure. What is it, Miss Veron?" Margo drew her attention to the blonde. She stood and stared at her, maintaining a professional distance.

Ophelia huffed, making her mouth twitch from the cold behavior. "Oh, you seem formal now? Margo Sinclair." She crossed her arms and glowered at her, her blue eyes flashing with barely contained emotion.

Margo pursed her lips, the only sign of her discomfort. "I never knew you were interested in business, Ophelia. If you ask me about the deal, it's all settled now. You have to sign it," She asserted with full intent while fixing the creases of her white dress and advancing to the door. But when she was about to hold the knob, Ophelia grabbed her arm.

"Damn you, Sinclair! Why are you treating me like this? After the casual sex we had? Is that how you end it?" The angry Ophelia Veron spat out the words, her perfectly applied lipstick slightly smudged from her emotional outburst.