In the high-stakes world of New York's elite, real estate tycoon Zane Blackwells and fashion icon Livia Rook defy convention with their passionate love affair. As they navigate corporate battles and familial pressures, their bond faces relentless sc...
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The evening was progressing smoothly, the conversations ebbing and flowing with the rhythm of a well-executed event. I sat at the head of the table, my attention divided between the people around me and the woman sitting directly across from me—Livia Rook.
She was speaking with one of the investors beside her, but I couldn't help but pay attention to the way she carried herself. She was poised, confident, and her subtle smile hinted at a mind that was always working, calculating, just like mine. Yet, there was something refreshing about her. She wasn't here just for business; she seemed to actually enjoy the conversation, even if it was filled with the usual pleasantries and pretentiousness.
"Mr. Blackwell," one of the men to my right said, pulling me out of my thoughts. "I heard that your company is planning to expand into international markets this year. Any truth to that?"
I nodded, giving the man a polite smile. "It's in the works. But as always, we're being cautious with our next steps. We won't take unnecessary risks."
There were a few nods of approval from the others around the table, as they all understood the importance of calculated moves in the business world. But my gaze kept returning to Livia, catching the occasional glimmer of her smile, the soft tone of her voice as she spoke to the others, and I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking.
As I spoke, I noticed she wasn't looking at me, but the intensity of her focus made it seem as though she was. I caught her glance once, and there was a flicker of something—recognition, maybe. Something that made my pulse quicken, though I couldn't say why.
I cleared my throat, trying to push the feeling away. "Yes, the international market is an exciting opportunity," I said to the table, steering the conversation back on track.
The food arrived then, and I used it as a distraction, shifting my focus to the various courses being set before us. But even as I picked up my fork, I couldn't help but glance at Livia again. She was engaged in the conversation, laughing lightly at something the woman beside her had said, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
My fingers gripped my fork a little tighter, but I quickly relaxed them, forcing myself to focus on the conversation at hand. Yet, the moment I turned my attention back to her, I caught her gaze again—this time, our eyes locked for a brief second before she looked away, her lips curling into a knowing smile.
Was she toying with me? Or was it simply a game of mutual curiosity?
