Two years later.
.
.
.
"Boss, this is next week's plan." Quinn handed Aura her schedule for the following week.
"I'll be meeting up with other CEOs?" She asked, perplexed.
"Yes, you will be going to A city." Her assistant informed.
"A city?" Aura's tone settled. She was going back to A city. Orion's city.
"You can go home and rest, since we will be leaving very early."
Quinn nodded.
"You should also go and rest. You have been working nonstop." Quinn advised.
"I will."
*****
Aura adjusted the cuff of her blazer, her gaze sweeping over the lobby of the CEO Summit—a vast, echoing space filled with the low hum of power networking. She had spent the last twenty-four hours mentally preparing to face the titans of the tech industry, a calculated exercise in corporate warfare.
What she had not prepared for was to see Orion's name printed next to hers on the seating chart for the morning's executive roundtable.
She can do this.
"Are you alright?" Quinn asked, after noticing her uneasiness.
"I'm fine."
She found herself walking past the welcome bar, her attention fixed on an exit sign, when she nearly collided with him. He was speaking to a venture capitalist, his profile sharp and commanding, a look of focused gravity on his face. He finished his sentence, offered a concise nod to the VC, and turned, his eyes locking onto hers.
The usual, cool professional mask he wore cracked just slightly with a flicker of—was it surprise, or a carefully concealed anticipation?
He stepped back an inch, giving her the minimum space required for professional deference.
"Aura. I should have anticipated this. The strategic move you're making requires a certain level of gravitational pull, and this event tends to attract those who possess it."
Aura allowed herself a small, perfectly controlled breath. Her hand tightened almost imperceptibly around the slim briefcase she carried. Quinn had wanted to take it from. But, she insisted on keeping it for moments like this.
"The surprise is mutual, Orion. My team neglected to mention that your company was a sponsor. A tactical oversight I will certainly address."
"My company is not a sponsor; my presence is strategic. I'm chairing the panel on emerging infrastructure. I trust the sight of me won't compromise your focus during the plenary. Business, after all, must always supersede... personal history." Orion said, trying to catch a glimpse of heat from her.
"I assure you, I am entirely focused on the fiscal health of my organisation. Your presence, as always, merely underscores the necessity of having a contingency plan for all potential variables." She gave him a curt nod.
"Enjoy your panel."
She walked away toward the seating area, her movements precise and unhurried, leaving him to watch her cross the polished floor.
The conference ended with a polite round of applause and a scramble for business cards. Aura had spent the post-session mingling time expertly deflecting soft pitches and closing off unwanted conversations. Her objective now was simple: secure her driver and vanish. But where was Quinn?
She was waiting by the bank of elevators, scrolling through her schedule, when the warm, distinct scent of his cologne—cedar and something sharp, something she had meticulously forgotten—registered at her shoulder. She did not look up.
His voice was low, carrying just enough to pierce the surrounding noise.
"Running a little early, Aura?"
Aura's gaze remained fixed on her phone. Her tone was flat, utterly devoid of recognition.
"I am leaving precisely on schedule. Unlike this conference, my work does not end simply because the speakers have concluded their presentations. And I certainly don't stand around waiting for redundant follow-up conversations."
She must not lose control of herself.
"You do yourself a disservice. The conversation we had this morning regarding the exclusivity clause was hardly redundant. It's the central pillar of our eventual partnership. I merely wanted to ensure you understood the firmness of the terms."
Aura finally looked up, meeting his eyes with an expression of cold, professional finality.
"I understood the terms perfectly. I also understand that an agreement of this magnitude requires a sign-off at the highest levels. I will contact your general counsel when my board has reached a consensus. Until then, any further discussion is speculative and wastes both our valuable time."
She pressed the 'down' arrow on the elevator button with sharp finality. The doors opened immediately. She stepped into the polished box without a second glance.
Later that evening, in a high-end restaurant near her hotel—a quiet place reserved for the CEOs of calibre—Aura was finishing a solitary dinner with Quinn and reviewing notes for the next day. She looked up only when the hostess hesitated by her table.
A shadow fell over her white linen napkin. She lifted her chin, ready with a polite dismissal, but the words caught in her throat.
It was Orion. He was wearing a dark, elegant suit, holding a simple trench coat over his arm.
There was a look in his eyes now that was neither professional nor antagonistic, but something much more challenging: an undisguised, almost predatory acknowledgement.
Orion didn't ask to sit. He stood there, a presence that filled the small, exclusive space.
"Good evening, Aura. I wasn't aware you frequented this place. Then again, some habits are simply too good to break. I guess we meet again."
A slow, defensive irritation started to burn beneath her professional reserve.
"I dine where I prefer. This is a business trip, not a social calendar. And I was under the distinct impression you preferred your dinner meetings to have a quorum."
What was wrong with him? Why does he keep on appearing wherever she finds herself?
"I had a quorum. They just departed. I saw you from across the room and decided that a final, informal check-in regarding our terms was warranted. Besides,"
He tilted his head, a gesture of old familiarity that felt like a deliberate weapon.
"I can't let you leave my city without confirming one thing."
He leaned a fraction closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that completely negated the distance she tried to keep.
"I needed to know how it felt for you, Aura. To require something that only I can give you. To sit at the table with the very obstacle you thought you had removed from your path."
He straightened, a chilling smile touching his eyes.
"We meet again. And you are, quite literally, asking for my help."
He didn't wait for her reply. He simply placed a single, sealed copy of the term sheet—the one she had demanded for midnight—on the crisp linen next to her plate, turned, and walked out, leaving her alone with the heavy weight of his offer and the unnerving certainty that she was, once again, playing his game.