David places a folder on the table, the leather cover thumping softly against the polished wood. He nudges it across the surface, his tone light but firm, "Take a look at the folder, Jason. I don't usually give out lifeboats, but I'm feeling rather generous today."

I shift in my chair, casting a sidelong glance at Jason, who remains unflinchingly composed. If what I've heard is true, Jason Brooks, the current CEO of StellarTalent, isn't one to back down easily.

Even though I can tell he's trying his best to remain calm, I can tell Jason's on the verge of breaking. His heavy breathing and laser-like focus on David hint at the boiling turmoil beneath his cold exterior.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," Jason finally speaks, the threat in his voice unmistakable. "I'm not someone you want to piss off... I have friends in very high places..."

Ignoring his threats, David redirects his gaze to the man seated beside Jason, a middle-aged bald man who exudes an air of weary professionalism. "I'm going to guess you're his lawyer... I think at the very least, you should check out what I'm offering. Let's not allow your client's ego to stand in the way of opportunity."

The bald lawyer hesitates for a moment, his hand quivering inches above the folder's clasp. He clears his throat nervously and glances at Jason. "Mr. Brooks, it might be prudent to see what's inside. We owe it to ourselves, wouldn't you say?"

"..."

There's a palpable reluctance in the air as the lawyer tentatively moves to reach for the folder, but his progress is abruptly halted. Jason seizes him by the collar, pulling him close. "If you touch that fucking folder, I'll personally make sure you lose your job..."

My own tension rises as I watch the scene unfold. The dynamics at play are clear. Loyalty clashes with practicality. Trust collides with ambition.

After a minute or so of silence, the lawyer relents and leans back into his chair. "If my client doesn't want to settle, then there's nothing I can do about it..."

David sighs and shakes his head. "Why are you being a pain in the ass, Jason... Just open the damn folder!"

"I'm not giving up that easily," Jason snaps back, his defiance unwavering as he turns his attention back on David. "If you think I'm going to let you morons steal my company, you got something else coming your way..."

"Just... Just please take a look!"

"Nope... No fucking way, mate..."

Impatience bubbles within me as the conversation meanders on, far past its expiration date. With an exasperated snort, I decide it's high time to cut through the endless deliberations.

"Jason," I interject, my voice steady but tinged with impatience, "stop acting like there's more to this fight when it's already over."

"What did you just say?!"

"I'm telling you that it's over... You fucking lost!"

"Fuck y-"

"Sign these papers," I say, cutting him off, my tone leaving no room for negotiation, "or you'll be bankrupt by the end of this week!"

Jason's immediate response is visceral, his fist striking the table with a force that reverberates through the room. He leans forward, his anger palpable as he hurls accusations my way. "Who do you think you are!? How dare you talk to me like that?!"

My chuckle, born of both amusement and an air of irritation, cuts through his tirade. With a casual, almost careless tone, I lay bare the trump card I wasn't planning to use. "I know that you took out a loan a few months ago when your agency was on the brink of bankruptcy... Do your lawyers know about that? What about the members of your board? What about the press? Do they know about the loan?"

The color drains from Jason's face as he wilts beneath the weight of reality. His shoulders slump, the once-confident executive now reduced to a man facing a harsh reckoning. Finally, the words stumble out of his mouth, his voice laced with anxiety and uncertainty. "How... How did you find out about that?"

"You see, I also have friends in high places. And whether you believe it or not, they like me more than they like you."

"..."

Noticing the look of defeat spreading over his face, I decide it's time to wrap things up. My intention wasn't to expose him but to get this damn meeting over and done with. "I didn't come here to destroy or expose you, Jason. I am here because we're all businessmen and we all live by a code... Well, at least I do... I know you're angry, and I also realize that your pride might be hurt, but for just this once, open the damn folder and read what we're offering you... I promise that you'll have more than enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life."

"..."

The room holds its breath, a heavy silence descending upon us all. I watch intently as Jason, the focal point of this high-stakes drama, suddenly leans forward, his hand reaching for the folder that could determine the fate of his agency.

Around us, the restaurant lounge becomes a theater of unspoken tension. Lawyers and executives, strangers only a few minutes ago, now united by the prospect of an acquisition, fix their gaze on Jason. Time slows, each passing second amplifying the weight of the situation.

Minutes, which seem like hours, pass in silence as Jason methodically peruses the documents that outline his agency's future. The rustle of paper seems deafening amidst the hush that hangs in the air.

Finally, the folder returns to the table with a soft thud. All eyes remain on Jason. The weight of his decision is apparent, and we collectively hold our breath as he holds out his hand.

"May I have a pen, please?" Jason's voice breaks the silence, his request punctuating the room's stillness.

Jason's lawyer, alert to his needs, rushes to provide him with the tool that will seal this fateful deal. The atmosphere becomes almost suffocating as we bear witness to the final act of this acquisition. Pen meets paper, and Jason signs his agency away, sealing its fate.

As he straightens his tie, a tension that has gripped the room is released, like the exhalation of a collective breath held for far too long. Jason turns toward us, his expression a blend of resignation and professionalism. "If I said it was a pleasure meeting you both, I'd be lying... I hope we never meet again."

David nods in acknowledgment. "We appreciate your cooperation, Jason."

"HMPH...I'll be taking my leave now... Bernard, let's go!"

"Yes, of course!"

The sound of receding footsteps marks their departure, and as Jason and his lawyer exit the lounge, their footsteps echo down the stairs.

The remaining lawyers and executives exchange furtive glances, their expressions a mix of relief and wariness. Uncertainty lingers in the air, and I can sense the tension slowly dispersing.

With a graceful rise from his chair, David elevates his wine glass, the crystal catching the ambient light. His warm, confident smile is a beacon of reassurance in the midst of the lingering unease.

"Friends," David begins, his voice carrying across the room with an air of camaraderie, "we've just witnessed a turning point in our company's journey."

A collective nod of agreement ripples through the assembled group, their focus shifting from the uncertainty of moments ago to the anticipation of what lies ahead.

"From this moment forward," David continues, his eyes scanning the room, "let us remember that we are forging a path toward innovation and growth. We're not just an acquisition; we're a family."

David's words resonate with a sincerity that transcends the corporate veneer, and I can see the anxiety in the room slowly ebbing away. People exchange nods and faint smiles, a sense of unity emerging from the crucible of negotiations.

"Welcome to the Bias Break family!" David raises his glass higher, and this time, he's joined by a chorus of clinking glassware as those around the table respond in kind.

"To the future!" they echo, the room filled with the harmonious sound of celebration.

Not bad, David... If I didn't know any better, I would have actually believed your words...

As the first course is served, the clatter of cutlery and the murmur of conversation quickly fill the room. David leans toward me, his voice softer now, intended only for my ears.

"Thanks for helping me out," he says with a knowing smile. "If it wasn't for you, that prick would still be putting up a fight."

"Don't fret. I'm the one who should be thanking you... You did all the hard work, after all. The least I could do was help."

David chuckles, waving me off. "Oh, please... Stop pretending to be humble when we both know you aren't... By the way, how did you manage to get dirt on Jason? Until last night, you had me thinking that this merger was of no interest to you."

"It isn't... A couple of weeks ago, when you first approached me with the idea of the merger, I decided to do some digging to burn time. I wasn't actually planning on using what I found against him, but I guess things played out just right..."

"Moving on," David says, clapping his hands together. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Yes?"

"What did you think of Grace?" he asks, his tone playfully probing. I sense there's more to his question than simple curiosity, but for now, I play along.

I shrug casually, adopting an air of nonchalance. "She's okay."

David's derisive snort cuts through the air, a clear indication that my response hasn't satisfied him. "Blind, Roman, you're blind if you think she's just 'okay... Did you not see her breasts?!"

This fucking guy...

My hands slip into my pockets, clenching into fists to mask the frustration that's bubbling beneath the surface.

Just keep calm... The last thing I need is for this fucking pervert to find out that Natalie and I know each other...

My shoulders lift and fall in a nonchalant shrug once again. Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words, and I've become a master of the art.

"You sure you're not gay?"

"..."

"You seem angry? Are you angry?"

"..."

"Fine, fine, fine... I'll shut my mouth, for now..."

"Thank you."

"You should try bonding with the new execs," David suggests as he finishes his glass of champagne.

"Anyone in particular I should talk to?"

"I'd talk to Gandalf over there... I heard his brother-in-law is the Managing Director of a very renowned Bank..."

"Really?"

"Apparently so... Don't talk to Grace though... She's mine." His voice takes on a mischievous undertone as he casually hints at his evening plans. "I think I'm going to try to persuade her to join me at my place later."

Wait, what did he say?!

My jaw tightens involuntarily as I wrestle with the impulse to respond with something far less diplomatic. But instead of giving in to my instincts, I let out a low chuckle, a veiled threat concealed within the sound.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go take a quick leak... Be back in a minute!" David gives me a wink as he starts to head out.

As David saunters away, heading towards the restroom, I'm left standing in a whirlwind of emotions. The storm starts with anger, ignited by the audacity of David's comments about Natalie. Fueled by his smug insinuations, I'm momentarily consumed by a firestorm of irritation, my mind conjuring vivid images of all the creative ways I could rearrange David's nose.

I find myself gripping my fists tightly, knuckles white under the pressure. The urge to lash out and confront David over his shameless pursuit of Natalie simmers within me, threatening to burst forth like molten lava.

But then, as the seconds tick by and my emotions ebb and flow, a disconcerting question begins to claw its way into my thoughts. Why do I even care? Why should it matter to me whether Natalie and David spend the night together or engage in a frivolous fling?

 After all, we weren't close during our formative years, and over a decade has passed since our last encounter. If I recall correctly, the only moments we spent together were confined to my childhood visits to Madeleine's house for play dates...

As I stand here, contemplating the enigma of my own emotions, I can't deny the peculiar sense of protectiveness that surges forth. It's as if the past has cast a spell, resurrecting dormant sentiments and enveloping me in a protective cocoon of concern for Natalie. I don't understand it, and I'm not entirely sure I want to.

Strange... Now that I think about it, besides that one time, I have no memories of Natalie during my high school days... Must be because I stopped going to her house after my friendship with her sister ended...

In the midst of my contemplation, a gentle clearing of the throat reverberates from my side, yanking me unceremoniously from the recesses of my mind. "Planet Earth to Roman... Do you copy?"

My eyes blink in a slow return to the vibrant ambiance of the restaurant, away from the cobwebbed corridors of distant memories. There, beside me, stands Natalie, her smile as beguiling as her hazel eyes.

Caught off guard, I turn my full attention to her, momentarily caught in the intricacies of those eyes that seem to carry a universe of their own. When we shook hands earlier, I had been quick to withdraw, wary of any perception David might have. But now, facing her directly, I find myself strangely drawn in, captivated by her presence.

"So, what were you thinking about?"

I was thinking about the past... No, of course, I can't say that...

"Nothing much."

Natalie leans in, her tone conspiratorial. "You always seem like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."

What the fuck!?!

"Some things never change," Natalie remarks.

"Uhh, what do you mean?"

Natalie's smile deepens, as if she knows there's more to be said. "You know, I used to wonder what went on in that mind of yours when we were kids."

Natalie's observation about my penchant for getting lost in thought is an astute recognition. One that seems to reach across the chasm of years, as if she's glimpsed the very essence of who I am.

Regardless, I don't like it. I don't like the way she's being so casual with me... It feels suffocating... I need to change the direction this conversation is heading in...

"Guess I'm just a weird dude," I muse, offering her a wink. "So, how long has it been? Eight years? Nine years?"

"It's been ten years," She replies almost instantly.

Interesting...

"Has it?"

"I have a hard time believing a self-made millionaire like yourself loses track of time so easily."

I chuckle. "What can I say? I must be getting old..."

"Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks," I say, sneaking a glance to make sure David hasn't come out of the restroom. "On second thought, I should be thanking you! David told me you helped him make this merger possible..."

"I wasn't talking about the merger."

"What?"

"I was referring to your mom's engagement," Natalie says, eyeing me warily.

My mom's engagement!?! What the fuck is she talking about? Is she fucking with me right now? Does she think this is a joke?!

"What did you just say?" I ask her through bared teeth.

What am I even thinking? Of course, my mother isn't engaged... I must be going deaf... There's no way I heard that right.

"Didn't your mom tell you she was engaged?" she replies, looking very confused. She nods to herself and sighs as if she just let out a secret.

I clench my fists and redirect my gaze to the door that leads downstairs.

Everything is beginning to make sense. Now I understand why she texted me the other day. She wanted to tell me about her stupid fucking engagement. She probably wanted to rub it in my face and invite me to the wedding... Fuck... 

I can't believe she's actually going through with this. Does she really want to marry that prick so badly?

On second thought... I can't believe that loser actually agreed to marry my crazy mother.

"I'm sorry, Roman," Natalie says after a moment. "I honestly thought you knew."

"..." I make the decision to stay silent in order to avoid saying something mean to her. Considering the anger I'm feeling right now, all I want to do is break something. I don't care if it's a chair, a table, a car, or even a person... I just want to fucking break something...

I need to leave... I need to fucking go before I break something!

I turn on my heel, driven by an unspoken urgency, my gaze fixed on the exit, the promise of respite beckoning from beyond the lounge's confines.

But, of course, nothing is ever that simple.

As if tethered to me by some invisible force, Natalie materializes at my side, her inquisitive gaze a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within me. "Where are you going, Roman?"

Oh, I see... She wants answers. She wants to understand the whirlwind of emotions that course through me, and frankly, I don't have the patience for it.

"I... I have some unfinished business to attend to," I reply tersely.

Natalie, undeterred by my brusque response, continues to watch me with inquisitive eyes. She expects an explanation, but I'm not in the mood to oblige. Frustration brews within me, and I decide to unleash something else on her, to get her off my back.

I thrust my business card toward her, my voice cold and loaded with a warning. "Here, take this. If you plan on continuing whatever it is you have with David, throw it away and know that you're probably going to get chlamydia... If not, call me later."

"..."

Without waiting for her response, I push open the heavy glass door and descend the flight of stairs. The night air envelopes me as I step outside, the stifling atmosphere of the lounge replaced by a cool breeze. My anger remains unyielding as I head toward my waiting SUV, the tension in my eyes palpable.

George, my ever-dependable driver, leans against the SUV, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. My annoyance flares at the breach of my strict no-smoking policy within the vehicle, but tonight, I have more pressing matters on my mind. I approach him, and he hastily stubs out his cigarette against the concrete.

Without a word, I instruct him in a hefty tone, "Home, George."

He nods and opens the car door, gesturing for me to step inside. As I settle into the plush interior, the scent of leather surrounds me, a familiar comfort amidst the turmoil of my thoughts.

Once the car purrs to life and we start moving, George breaks the silence. "Rough night, sir?"

I exhale heavily, my anger still simmering beneath the surface. "You could say that, George."

His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, concern etched in his features. "Is there anything I can do, sir?"

I appreciate his loyalty, even if I can't entirely share my frustrations with him. "Not tonight, George. Just get me home."