The mirrored door swung open, ushering Emma and her father back into the spacious lobby that led to the main door.
Emma was anger about the fact that they had to follow him inorder to talk.
'He's the one who invited us here. What a way to treat your guests!' She thought.
It was already 10 a.m and the sunlight filtered into the room through the glass walls of the building. The enormous 'L&V Group' emblem etched into the floor shimmered in the light.
Rowland Montero was talking to a couple of sharply dressed men with tags labelled 'Official' hanging from their necks. His personal assistants stood a safe distance behind him, and all around them men in black suits and dark sunglasses stood in a wide square, heads turning in all directions. Far off, along the glass walls, consulting clients sat in a line toward a counter, but all their eyes stared at the attraction in the center of the room.
As Emma and her father approached Mr. Rowland, the sharp innocent voice of child cut through the air.
"Silver Wolf!"
A small boy, barely ten, broke through the cordon of security and assistants.
He ran towards Mr. Rowland, a comic book clutched in his hand.
The nearest guard he had slipped past, turned.
One step towards the boy and Mr. Rowland held out his hand, signaling the guard to let the kid advance. But the kid, who was trying to quickly get away from security, slipped on the smooth floor and fell.
"Mr. Montero! Please! I'm your biggest fan." He quicky rose to his feet like nothing had happened, amidst an outburst of laughter from the onlookers. "Please sign this!" He held out a comic book as he approached.
The boy's mother rushed forward, apologizing breathlessly but Mr. Rowland crouched slightly and smiled at the boy.
Rowland Montero's TV role still followed him. He had once played 'Silver Wolf', a stoic anti-hero from a cult comic series that later became a global hit. He took the comic book and signed it.
"Mom, quick!" The boy yelled and posed for a photo with Rowland.
"Thank you sir, I'm showing this in school tomorrow," the boy smiled and ran off to his mother.
Emma looked on, both impressed and tired from waiting to meet him. All she wanted was to finish the meet up and go home. Emma felt like a side character all morning, and boy did it hurt her feelings! She was used to being the star attraction everywhere she went because of her beauty. But in the company of Mr. Rowland, she was a nobody, nothing.
When the child and mother left, Rowland turned and his eyes fell on them.
Her father brightened immediately. "Mr. Rowland! A pleasure always."
Mr. Rowland's gaze flicked to Emma's father, then briefly to Emma, just enough for her to feel it. She smiled nervously and offered her hand. He looked at it, then looked away.
"Mr. Galavan," he said, ignoring her completely. "I'm due for another engagement. I think..."
Emma's cheeks burned with shame. Her hand hovered in the air for an awkward heartbeat before she let it drop to her side. Her father didn't notice. He was too busy nodding his head profusely like a gecko as Mr. Rowland talked, his face bright like a little boy at a candy store.
Rowland turned again. The earlier warmth with which he had interacted with that boy had vanished from his face.
Emma blinked. Cold eyes met hers. The piercing eyes bore down on her and she felt small under his gaze. She couldn't help but notice his face was perfectly symmetrical like he was sculpted by an artist. His young dazzling face added to his star power.
"So," he said glancing at Mr. Galavan, one hand in pocket. "This is the daughter you're offering me?"
Emma's stomach knotted. Offering? Like she was an item, someone's property.
Before they could respond, two women approached them briskly. Both held recorders and glossy folders, and a man with a camera followed them.
The brunette infront smiled brightly. "Mr. Rowland, Jenna from Daybreak Magazine. We're still on for that feature, right?"
"Sure." Rowland said and motioned an assistant. "Someone will show you to my office."
Jenna's eyes darted to Emma and Emma thought she saw a flicker of curiosity in them, then surprise.
"Oh my God! Is the most sought-after bachelor in the country finally seeing someone?" She said loud enough for everyone to hear. "You've kept the world waiting for years, Mr. Rowland. Is this the mystery woman who has tamed the Silver Wolf?"
The comment startled Emma. Heads turned in their direction and she blushed. She tried to form a polite denial but before she could say a word, Rowland laughed. It wasn't a heartfelt laughter, barely a laughter even. It was sharp and brief. And in that laughter, Emma thought she could sense spite.
"Absolutely not," he said, cool and nonchalant.
Emma threw him a side eye. 'Just 'no' would have been enough,' she thought.
She could feel heat rise to her cheeks and her throat tightened. All she wanted was to run out of their and go back home.
Meeting him made her feel worse than she felt when he had ignored them all morning.
Mr. Rowland was saying something to her father about rescheduling their meeting.
That was a bit of a relief. The sooner she left his side the better.
"Sure, Mr. Rowland," Her father nodded. "Dinner then, tomorrow with your family. We will be there."
Half an hour later, the car hummed softly as they rolled further away from the city square, past glittering towers and wide colourful billboards.
In the back of the limousine, Mr. Galavan wore a ridiculous smile, his eyes static and face radiant like he was re-living a dream.
"You see that?" He said, breaking into laughter. "That's presence, Emma. You can't fake that. The man walks into a room and the air changes."
Emma rolled her eyes and turned towards the car window.
"Yes." She said softly, quite disinterested. "He certainly does."
Her father chuckled.
"I told you he's one of kind." Galavan held his right hand up and clenched his fingers hard. "That charisma! That charm! You can't buy that, you're born with it. Even the way he brushed off those journalists! Hah! That's power, Emma. Real power."
'Power?' Emma thought. That's not what she'd seen.
All she could replay in her mind was that moment he left her hand hanging awkwardly between them. The way he ignored her like she was nothing.
She smiled. "He's confident, yes."
"Confident?" Mr. Galavan scoffed. "He's a lion among mice. I wish I brought Jordan along. He could've learnt something. How to carry himself. How to speak with certainty. Thats how men like him stay on top."
Emma turned and observed him as he spoke. Her father had become a shadow of his former self. A man who ones wallowed in wealth, her grandfather's, squandered it all and now on the brink of bankruptcy. The lines around his mouth were deeper these days. A close look at his socks revealed a hole in one of them. He once wore only the finest suits in the city, but now the one he wore these days were old and shinny at the elbows. Yet his eyes still burnt with the fire of a man who once touched success and never stopped chasing it's ghost. Mr. Rowland always acted as if greatness was a contagious disease he could contract through associating with men like Rowland Montero.
He spoke like Rowland's arrogance was something to aspire to.
"You think arrogance is the same as confidence, don't you daddy?"
He frowned, as if she had interrupted a pleasant dream. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Emma sighed.
"Emma!" His voice grew stern again. "Fortune has smiled upon us, I hope you won't waste this opportunity. Mr. Rowland is going to solve all our financial problems. Besides, he's every woman's dream husband."
Emma didn't answer.
"Are you listening to me, young lady?" He barked. "Lady luck won't favor us a second time if you don't appreciate it now."
The rest of drive passed in silence. The traffic thinned out as the city center fell further behind them. Soon, the buzz of the city was replaced by the quiet ambience of the suburbs on the outskirts. Mr. Galavan leaned back still smiling faintly as if lost in some proud daydream.
Emma sat quietly staring through the window, lost in her own thoughts. Only her thoughts weren't as pleasant as to make her smile. She had gone there expecting to meet a man of depth, one as inspiring as her father claims him to be. Instead she had met a man who saw only himself.
What's worse is that Emma realized that no one probably shared in her opinion of him. Her brother respected the man, her father adored him and the entire city treated him like he was a god.
'Or maybe I shouldn't judge him after only one meeting,' Emma thought. Was there something she was missing?
Only time would tell...