Volkov

Chapter 13

Maksim's Point of View

By the time Thursday arrived, the weight of the week pressed down on me like an iron cage. Meetings had been relentless, deals were dragging longer than anticipated, and the ever-present shadow of family obligations loomed. Yet none of it compared to the storm raging within me.

Raven Tremble.

The woman consumed more of my thoughts than I cared to admit. I could still feel the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers from that night at her apartment, still hear her voice as she reminded me of the lines we shouldn't cross. Those boundaries, however, blurred every time I was near her.

And today, I would be near her.

The meeting with her marketing team had been scheduled for weeks, and while I rarely joined such sessions, I wanted to see her in action. Raven was brilliant, her ideas transformative and her execution flawless. Her department was one of the few I could trust without constant oversight. Still, my presence would serve as a reminder that I expected nothing but the best from my employees.

I strode into the conference room five minutes early, my gaze sweeping the space. A large presentation screen dominated one wall, with charts and visuals already displayed—no doubt Raven's handiwork. The long table was set with neatly arranged folders at each seat. Her team was already waiting, their expressions a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Then she walked in.

Raven.

Dressed in a tailored emerald-green blouse that complemented her smooth brown skin, paired with black trousers that hugged her curves perfectly, she commanded the room effortlessly. Her natural hair, styled in soft waves, framed her face, emphasizing her sharp cheekbones and full lips. She glanced at me, her dark eyes narrowing slightly, as if sensing my tension.

"Good morning, everyone," she began, her voice calm and composed. "Let's get started."

I remained standing, taking my position at the head of the table. As Raven led the introductions, her team members shared updates and presented ideas for upcoming campaigns. They were competent, but I found myself growing impatient. Their enthusiasm grated on me, their explanations too drawn out.

"Enough," I cut in, my tone cold and abrupt, halting the discussion mid-sentence. A younger team member—Marcus, I think his name was—stared at me, wide-eyed.

"Your projection numbers don't add up," I said, fixing him with a piercing glare. "How do you expect us to compete with this... mediocrity?"

Marcus stammered, flipping through his notes. "I-I thought the data—"

"You thought wrong," I snapped. "Do better."

The room fell silent, the atmosphere thick with tension. Marcus's face turned red, and I could see the panic rising in his eyes. Raven shifted in her seat but said nothing—for now.

Another team member, a woman named Denise, attempted to redirect the discussion, but I found a flaw in her logic as well.

"This is unacceptable," I said sharply. "If this is the best you can produce, I'll find people who can deliver."

Denise's expression crumbled, tears welling in her eyes. She mumbled an apology before abruptly leaving the room.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Meeting adjourned," Raven said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Her team filed out quickly, avoiding my gaze. Raven, however, remained seated, her eyes locked on mine with a mix of anger and disbelief.