Chapter 28
Cole
T he conference room on the 101st floor was built for moments like this: glass walls offering a panoramic view of Manhattan, a sleek obsidian table stretching the length of the room, and enough high-tech features to make Stark Tower jealous. But none of that mattered right now. Not with the weight of potential billions hanging in the air.
I sit at the head of the table, posture relaxed but deliberate, radiating the confidence I’ve perfected over the years. Across from me is Xavier, arms crossed, face unreadable as always. He’s all sharp edges and cold calculation this morning, but I can tell he’s wound tight beneath that tailored suit.
Because this meeting? It matters. Big time.
We’re not just entertaining another investor. We’re sitting across from Rajan Dev, the wealthiest man in the world. He’s old money and new tech, with power that stretches across continents and industries. Oil, tech, aerospace, luxury design, you name it, he owns a slice of it. His influence can reshape markets. And today, he’s here. Sitting calmly, immaculately dressed in a navy Nehru-collared suit that probably costs more than most people’s mortgages.
And beside him, his daughter. Princess Anaya Dev.
That’s not just a nickname. She’s actual royalty, at least by international standards. Educated in London and Singapore. Fashion icon. Heiress. The media calls her a living jewel. She’s stunning, poised, graceful, and observant. But I see it in her eyes: sharp intelligence hidden beneath the demure smile.
They haven’t said much yet, but the energy in the room is charged. The stakes are clear. If this deal goes through, we’re not talking a few million dollars in perfume sales. We’re talking about full integration with Dev Global. Distribution across Asia. Exclusive designs. Licensing rights. Legacy money.
And possibly the biggest expansion House of Aphrodite has ever seen. I glance toward Xavier. He gives the slightest nod. Showtime.
Rajan folds his hands neatly on the table, his expression unreadable. “You’ve built something extraordinary,” he says, his voice smooth, rich with the resonance of practiced authority. “House of Aphrodite is more than luxury. It’s aspirational. Sensory. Emotional. And that is precisely why I’m here.”
Xavier inclines his head. “We’re honored you see it that way, Mr. Dev.”
“I see potential,” Rajan continues. “And I see a gap in the Asian and Middle Eastern markets that your products, if properly translated, can fill.”
I lean forward slightly. “We’ve spent the last year designing for cross-market appeal. Scents tailored to regional palettes, packaging that respects cultural nuance. This isn’t just a rebrand. It’s a global shift.”
Xavier slides a sleek leather folder across the table. “Projections, mockups, and scent pairings designed with your market in mind. We’re not here to sell you a product. We’re here to offer you a partnership.”
Rajan opens the folder, skimming the contents with laser focus. Anaya doesn’t speak, but her eyes drift across the room, lingering briefly on the art, the views,
on everything but us. She’s letting her father lead, which tells me she’s either bored or quietly evaluating.
Rajan looks up. “You’re asking for autonomy in production, exclusive licensing, and co-branded campaigns tied to my name.”
“We are,” I confirm.
“And in return?”
“Global expansion. Prestige elevation,” Xavier says. “And a percentage of profit shares higher than your competitors can offer, because we don’t have shareholders to answer to. We are the board.”
A long pause stretches between us.
Then Rajan closes the folder, steepling his fingers. “You don’t waste time with pleasantries. I like that.”
“I find they get in the way,” I say with a tight smile.
He chuckles softly, and for the first time, I get the sense that we’ve passed the initial test.
An unexpected sound breaks the polished calm of the room. An excited squeal. I blink. Xavier goes still.
Across the table, Anaya Dev has her phone in her hand and stars in her eyes. “Oh, my goddess!” she gasps, turning to her father with the urgency of someone who’s just spotted a celebrity in the wild. “Baba, she works here! Rowan Hart. This is her company!”
I glance at Xavier. His jaw flexes.
Mr. Dev raises a brow, completely unbothered. “Rowan Hart?”
Anaya nods furiously, holding up her screen. “She just posted her new reel, look! The nest she built for Vivienne Cheng. It’s dreamy. Warm wood, soft linens, scent-infused light panels; it’s everything! ”
She turns her phone toward me as if I need proof. Rowan’s voice, calm and warm, filters from the speaker as she talks about texture layering for grounding anxious instincts. It’s one of her latest independent reels; posted just days before she signed with us.
I recognize the clip. We’ve been analyzing her social presence for months, gauging her engagement and aesthetic. She’s a natural. No wonder Anaya’s obsessed.
Anaya practically vibrates in her chair. “She’s a genius. No, she’s an artist. And I need her. Baba, you promised I could work with whoever I wanted for the bonding ceremony. Please, please introduce me. I’ll die if she’s booked out.”
Rajan doesn’t even look surprised. He eyes me instead, amused. “I assume this Rowan is as indispensable as my daughter believes?”
“She’s our head of Omega Experience and Nesting Design,” I reply smoothly. “And yes. She’s that good.”
Anaya practically vibrates in her seat, eyes wide with excitement. “I’ve followed her for years, before she even joined your team. Her aesthetic, her nesting philosophies, the way she makes every space feel like an extension of the Omega’s soul, it’s unlike anything I’ve seen.”
I nod, keeping my tone even. “We agree. That’s why we brought her on.”
She glances at her father. “Baba, please. Just a quick introduction. If she’d even, consider designing my bonding nest—”
Rajan turns to me, a question in his eyes. I want to let Rowan settle in, give her more time to find her footing, but this deal is too important to brush off. Billions are on the line. And hell, if anyone could charm an excited Omega princess mid-spike recovery, it’s Rowan.
I nod once. “We can make that happen.”
I glance between them. “If it’s alright with you, sir, we can either bring Rowan up here, or we can escort Anaya down to our Omega Design Suite. That’s where Rowan works. It’s private. Comfortable. You’ll be able to see her in her element.”
Rajan considers for a beat, then nods. “The suite. If that’s where she feels most comfortable, then that’s where my daughter should meet her.”
Anaya practically bounces in her chair. “Thank you, Baba! Thank you, Mr. Kingston!”
I offer a small smile and pull out my phone, already typing out a message to Massimo and Rowan.
Time to move.