8. Rosenna
Chapter eight
Rosenna
A fter finishing at the hair salon, I made my way back to the office. Kira had scheduled two much-needed appointments, exactly the sort of distraction I needed to get my mind on track. With simple pinkish nude color on my finger and toenails and my hair done to be bone straight, I felt like a new woman.
Arriving at the museum, I found Kira in a discussion with Mr. Garcia’s associates. At sight of me, she stepped away and muttered as she walked past me, “He’s waiting in your office.”
Tension prickled my stomach. But the meeting was on—I had no choice but to face him. And so, armed with a set of files dutifully handed to me by Kira, I entered my office to tackle the human incubus.
His gaze penetrated me as he sat in a chair in the corner. “Rosenna.”
I crossed my arms, withholding a groan. “Beckham. I can’t do this right now. You need to leave and go to the conference room. We have a meeting to attend to…”
He only hummed as he gave me a sensual head-to-toe glance. I avoided his gaze, doing my best to ignore what it did to me.
“You got your hair done… your nails too.”
I sighed as he stood and approached me slowly. “When you do your own hair, you tend to curl your ends. You make it neater.”
I shook my head as I looked at his genuinely inquisitive and curious eyes. “You are literally insane,” I whispered as the man looked at me as if I was a piece of art he was trying to understand… or rather admire .
But what did I expect? He had literal pictures and a painting of me in his studio, which he was able to access at any time.
“You owe me a portrait.”
I gaped at him, eyes going wide.
“Beckham. You cannot possibly believe that after what happened, I would go back to your studio.”
He tilted his head as he leaned in slightly. “What happened between us?” he asked innocently, as if he hadn’t released his feral side on me yesterday.
“Beckham. You need to stop.”
“What happened between us, Flower?” he repeated, doubling down as his eyebrows raised, a subtle hint of amusement and fake innocence in his eyes.
He wanted me to admit to it. He wanted me to voice what we’d done so it would be real.
This was pointless . This man was pining after me—a married woman of all things. It made absolutely no sense.
“Rose, Mr. Garcia, we’re waiting for you two in the other room,” Kira said from the door, and I stepped away from him. I need to get a grip.
As I walked to the conference room, I felt his hand on the small of my back, unrelenting, possessive and warm.
And then, he leaned over towards me and inhaled. It was barely there, but that slow drag of breath felt like he was memorizing my scent all over again, letting it settle deep into his lungs.
As much as I wanted to hate it, it did something to me. Everything about him did. Just knowing a man wants to breathe you in, let your scent consume him … it did something to me… badly .
Removing his hand with a light push, I stepped into the meeting room and again greeted Beckham’s arrayed associates. Beckham sat across the table at the head, and I sat at the other side, putting as much distance between us as possible.
“Sorry for the wait, gentlemen.” I forced my smile as Kira handed me a folder.
We moved through the numbers, projections, and sponsorship and laid out our plans for the auction, the showroom expansions, and the long-term gallery collaborations.
“Kira and I planned on using the entire space here for the main event for showing and auctions and then dedicate a few showrooms in our other two locations to showcase Mr. Garcia’s art.”
They all nodded in agreement.
This should have felt like progress.
And yet the man who was calling the shots was simply staring at me. Jaw tight. Eyes unreadable. Not interrupting, not even engaging. Just watching. Like he was angry. I had an idea or two as to why but I didn’t dwell on it as I focused on ignoring him while I continued onto other topics.
“I also see you’ve done a bit of marketing to get things started,” I said, flipping to a news article as Kira gave herself a pat on the back.
The advertising manager nodded with a wavering smile, subtly glancing back and forth at her with a rather cautious glance. I wonder what she said to make him work so fast and efficiently?
Soon, the meeting was over, and I found myself in my office as Kira escorted Beckham’s associates out.
The meeting went smoothly as anticipated and I should have exhaled in relief of it all. However—
Feeling his eyes on me, I lifted my head to see Beckham walking by, his gaze still pinning me, his eyes holding something sinister. My thighs clenched involuntarily as I forced my eyes away.
Snap out of it.
With my mind obviously elsewhere, I flinched as I heard my phone ring beside me. Noticing it was an unknown caller, I hesitantly answered.
“Hello?”
“Rosenna, darling, how are you?” I heard Vincent’s voice on the other line and my eyes widened.
“I’m great, Vincent. Yourself?” I asked, smiling.
“I’m doing all right. I was actually going to call Kira first, but I thought I’d give you a buzz instead.”
I wasn’t particularly concerned with how he got my phone number in the first place. Obviously, billionaires had their ways.
“I wanted to invite you and your husband to dinner. One of my charity organizations is hosting, and I thought I’d extend an invite to the only woman alive that can tolerate my son as her client.” He chuckled.
I hesitated. Dinner? With Vincent, my husband… and Beckham?
“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Garcia… I’d have to talk to Gavin to see how his schedule is—”
“Ah, ah, ah, Rosenna.” Vincent’s tone sharpened. “Yes, this call was an invitation, but I did not ask for you to be there. I expect you to be there. If your husband is busy or has his reservations, he doesn’t need to come, but you, my darling, are to be there with Kira as well. There are some people I’d like to introduce you to, and I simply would be devastated if you didn’t show.”
I sighed. I couldn’t exactly say no to one of the most powerful and wealthiest men I knew. If anything, the call had finished the second he asked me to go. There was no negotiation.
“I will be there, Mr. Garcia,” I said with a small smile.
He responded gleefully, satisfaction in his tone: “Excellent. My assistant will send the details to Kira.”
The call ended, and I placed my phone on the table.
Things felt too good to be true.
Mr. Garcia was really inviting us to one of his events. I almost couldn’t believe it.
I could kiss Kira for how hard she worked to get him in contact with us.
Him and the man who couldn’t stay out of my thoughts could potentially change our lives for the better.
Gavin
“What’s the status this evening, gentlemen?” I asked my colleagues as I entered the conference room, going over a contract that had to be reviewed soon.
“Where’ve you been, Johnson?” Walter, old, slow, and twice divorced, said out of his ass.
I rolled my eyes, setting the file down as I took my seat at the head of the table. “Busy.”
Ethan, our suck-up newbie intern, was standing by the projector, already clicking through the slides. At least he knew how to get to the point.
“First, we have a new case coming in soon. Client is purchasing a commercial property and needs us to handle the contract negotiations.”
We listened as he commanded the room even if it was only twenty minutes.
This is what our mornings consisted of: going over different cases for the different sections of law we practiced at the firm: business, finance, real estate, litigation. The hours were long, but our pockets were fucking deep—almost as deep as the influence that the firm was getting through the growing list of widespread connections and contacts.
After another hour or so of discussing, I dismissed the room as I put away some of the documents I’d opened. Brent came over to me, and I glanced at the door as the last person stepped out.
“Brent,” I muttered.
He crossed his arms. “Gavin, your wife made the news.”
I looked over at him in disbelief. “She made the what?”
He handed me his phone, open to a news headline. Vincent Garcia’s Son Expected to Debut His Art for the First Time Ever.
Reading further, I cursed to myself as I noticed a certain someone talking to the author about how busy Rosenna was and how they couldn’t thank Vincent enough for giving them a chance… Kira, you little bitch.
Handing him back his phone, I shook my head dismissively. “Doesn’t matter.”
“She just made a payment of fifty grand yesterday.”
I sighed. Of course she did.
“When will she ever learn?” I muttered, rubbing my temple. “Send her a note. Raise the interest again.”
Brent furrowed his eyebrows. “Gavin... I can’t do that. I raised it on her around three times already, and if I do it again, she won’t be able to make any payments.”
“Why do you think I said to raise it?” I leaned back, tilting my head. “She needs to learn her fucking place and realize she’s got in over her head. She won’t listen to me. She won’t listen to reason. Maybe if she gets scared enough, she’ll finally understand that she needs to.”
“If she lands this with Garcia’s son, then she’ll be fine.”
“And when she doesn’t,” I smirked, “she’ll be exactly where I want her.”
Brent sighed, and I watched as he walked out of the door, agitated.
He was angry—angry that I was forcing my wife to be compliant and obey. I didn’t care much. All that mattered was making sure Rosenna wasn’t able to make her payments so she could finally sell these properties and stay home.
Rosenna thinks she’s independent. That she’s capable. That she has a say in what happens next. She doesn’t.
She can play CEO for as long as she wants. Make all the choices in the world as she runs herself into the ground trying to save her pathetic galleries.
Because when she fails, when she inevitably realizes that no amount of hustle, grit, blind optimism or “woman empowerment” will get her out of this hole, I’ll be there.
When she loses everything, I’ll be there to save her from herself.
I’ll remind her that she needs me.
She just doesn’t know it yet. And making sure she can’t make her payments and losing everything will be the first step in forcing her to realize it for herself.