Chapter 2

Adrian's POV 

As I sat in my office, the weight of the board meeting still weighed heavily on my mind. My personal assistant, Neville, entered with a concerned expression. “Adrian, we need to talk,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“I was just about to send for you. What’s on your mind?” I asked, rubbing my temples to ease the headache that was setting in. The meeting had been intense, and the news about our new competitor was still fresh.

Neville leaned against my desk, arms crossed. “You heard what the board said. Our new competitor is gaining traction because they present a grounded and responsible image. They have a family man at the helm, while you… well, it’s one girl today and another tomorrow.”

I frowned, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “I know that but my personal life shouldn’t matter when it comes to business.”

“Unfortunately, it does,” he replied firmly. “Clients and investors want to see stability and reliability. They’re drifting away because they perceive you as unpredictable without a steady relationship.”

I sighed, looking out the window at the city lights twinkling below. “So what do you suggest? I can’t just conjure up a family.”

Neville straightened up, his tone softening. “Maybe it’s time to reconsider how you present yourself to the world. A stable family image could strengthen your reputation and reassure clients that Blackwood is a trustworthy company.”

“Are you saying I should get married?” I scoffed, though his words struck a chord.

“Not necessarily,” he said quickly. “But perhaps you could consider a more serious commitment with someone who can help project that image. It could make a significant difference in how people perceive you and the company.”

I leaned back in my chair, contemplating his advice. “You really think that would help?”

“Absolutely,” he affirmed. “It’s not just about you; it’s about Blackwood’s future. We need to show that we’re more than just a business; we’re part of the community.”

As I pondered on his words, I realized he was right. The stakes were higher than I’d imagined, and if I wanted to keep my company thriving amidst fierce competition, I needed to take action—fast.

“You know, I’ve dated a few models,” I said, a smirk creeping onto my face. As I thought about each one, I cringed at the memories. “There was that one who thought a ‘humble dinner’ meant a five-course meal at Mon Amie.”

Neville laughed, shaking his head. “Sir, we don’t need women like that. They’re not going to project the image you want.”

“Sure, but those girls are classy,” I insisted, waving my hand dismissively. “I mean, with the right guidance, they could fit the humble, wifely image perfectly.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You really think you can turn them into something they’re not? You need someone who’s a natural at this.”

“Okay, fine,” I said, leaning forward. “But what does that even mean? Someone who looks good in a dress and knows how to smile?”

“More like someone who can connect with people,” he replied with a grin. “And no matter their background, we can brush them up. Just as long as they don’t have a criminal record,” he joked.

I chuckled at his quip but understood his words perfectly. “Right. No ex-cons for my fake family image.”

“Exactly. Let’s find someone genuine—someone who can handle this role and doesn't come with extra baggage.” 

I nodded slowly, realizing he was right. Maybe it was time to look beyond the superficial and find someone who could truly embody the image I needed for Blackwood.

As I decided to head home for the day, I grabbed my suit jacket and slung it over my arm, feeling the weight of the day’s events still hanging on my shoulders. The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside, ready to escape the office chaos. 

When the doors closed, I noticed a woman in the corner, wiping away stray tears rapidly while trying to maintain a calm composure. Normally, I wouldn’t care much about someone’s personal issues, but since she was one of my staff, I felt compelled to ask. 

“Are you okay?” I said, my voice softer than usual.

She looked up at me, and my heart skipped a beat. The name tag clipped to her dress read Sarah Nathaniel. “I’m fine, Sir,” she replied softly, lowering her gaze as if trying to hide the pain in her eyes.

I opened my mouth to ask her something else, but before I could say anything more, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She rushed out, leaving me standing there, lost in thought. Images of her from the club flooded my mind—how different she looked now. More curvy, with her fiery red hair now jet black and tied back in a ponytail. 

What was she doing here? It can't be her, I told myself again and again.

I stood there for a moment longer, grappling with my thoughts until Neville came down, his boots pounding on the floor.

“What’s wrong, Sir?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

“Get me all the information on that staff member—Sarah Nathaniel,” I replied, my mind racing with questions about this unexpected encounter.

*** ***

The next morning, I was seated in my office, one leg crossed over the other, as my mind wandered. I had spent most of last night poring over Sarah's file, plagued with memories of that night—the feverish lovemaking that had left me breathless. I hadn’t even gotten her name.

I recalled how clingy she had been, her body pressed against mine, and a smirk tugged at my lips. If I was going to enter into a fake union, it might as well be with someone I enjoyed being with intimately. The thought made me feel a strange mix of excitement and apprehension.

Just then, I heard a tentative knock on my door. A grin spread across my face; I knew it was her. “Come in,” I called out.

The door opened slowly, and as she stepped inside, my heart raced. There she was—Sarah Nathaniel—looking both nervous and desirable in that flared skirt. 

I leaned back in my chair, ready to engage her, she hesitated at the threshold, her eyes wide with uncertainty.