"Hello, Mr. Oakley. I''m Isadora, head of Seafarer Designs. May I borrow a moment of your time to talk?"
Jonathan Oakley turned away from his conversation, ncing up at Isadora.
She had softly curled hair, delicate pale skin, and striking features-bright eyes, a radiant smile, and an understated elegance that made her stand out far more than any of the women in the club, despite her minimal makeup.
Jonathan''s interest was piqued. He casually nudged aside the woman in the short skirt sitting next to him.
Seafarer Designs?
The name rang a bell. Normally, a small firm like that would just participate in the preliminary selection rounds.
But then Abbott had called him to discuss a few things.
Jonathan had decided to do Abbott a favor and told his people to put the process on hold.
"Oh? Seafarer Designs?" he echoed, ying coy.
Isadora caught the hint of recognition in his eyes and brightened.
"Yes. Our firm was supposed topete as usual, but your project manager abruptly pulled us from the list. That''s why I''vee to you directly, Mr. Oakley- to ask if you''d give us a fair shot."
Jonathan eyed her with growing interest, a sly smile ying at his lips. "And how exactly are you going to prove you''re worth it?"
"My colleague Rowena is a designer who graduated from NYU and has five years of professional experience. Allowing us topete would only benefit you, Mr. Oakley."
The woman in the short skirt sidled back up, pouting flirtatiously. "Mr. Oakley, don''t tell me you''re ignoring me for your newdy friend."
Jonathan ran a hand affectionately over her cheek. "Don''t worry. You''re still my favorite."
Then, turning back to Isadora, he said with deliberate mischief, "How about this- you finish these drinks and show me some Seafarer Designs spirit and determination?"
Wendy, standing nearby, looked on in shock.
She nced at the table, where fiverge bottles of expensive imported whiskey sat gleaming.
Wendy was fresh out of college and had never seen business conducted like this. Why did negotiating always seem to end up at the bar?
Isadora kept herposure. "I''m not much of a drinker, but I''ll have this one in your honor."
With that, she picked up her ss of red wine and downed it in one go.
"One ss?" Jonathan scoffed, eyebrow raised.
"Miss Vaughan, do you really think a single drink will win me over?"
He leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. "Today I''m in a good mood. If you can finish these, I''ll give Seafarer Designs a spot in the shortlist."
Themotion drew attention.
A small crowd gathered as people stopped dancing to watch.
Wendy was nervous, but she mustered her courage. "Mr. Oakley, Isadora''s just one person. If she drinks any more, she''ll faint. I work at Seafarer Designs too- how about we do it together?"
Jonathan''s gaze shifted to Wendy.
She looked impossibly young and innocent, like a college freshman-pure and a little na?ve.
His chubby face split into a grin.
"Don''t say I''m being unfair to youdies. Alright, if the two of you can finish these five bottles-"
He was cut off mid-sentence.
The private lounge door swung open again.
Several men entered, led by one whose suit jacket was slung casually over his arm. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the cor, gray dress pants perfectly tailored over long legs. He strolled in with an air of effortless confidence.
The others followed behind, forming a silent backdrop.
Heads turned as the neers entered, and the crowd quickly parted to make way.
The man seated at the head of the table scrambled to his feet to offer his seat.
"The prince is here," someone whispered.
Isadora''sshes fluttered, her grip tightening on her ss.
Jonathan forgot all about teasing the two women and immediately stood to greet the neer.
The Horizon Architects project—a sprawling resort development outside the city- required massive funding. Several investors were involved, but The Fitzgerald Group was the biggest stakeholder.
Victor lounged on the sofa, crossing his legs. His gaze-dark and unreadable— sweptzily over Isadora.