Cole's POV
"The sheer absurdity of the #1 Billionaire Club. Rejecting my application simply due to marital status. It's preposterous. I meet every other qualification. How can such a…domestic triviality hold such weight?" I vented into the phone.
Chris's laughter crackled through the receiver. "First of all, marriage isn't trivial, old boy. It's a lifelong commitment, a source of supposed daily joy. You should try it sometime."
I scoffed stopping on my track, "Absolutely not. I have companies to run, empires to build. I don't have time for arranged dates and forced smiles, and besides matrimony isn't exactly a priority, Christopher. As a fellow member, I expect you to leverage your influence. Persuade them to reconsider. Secure my membership."
"Well, it needs to become a priority if you want that golden ticket," Chris countered, his tone turning serious. "And I've already spoken to the chairman. He's…inflexible. Marriage is a non-negotiable prerequisite... face it, pal, if you want in, you might need to consider… acquiring a Mrs."
"It's barbaric," I retorted, pacing to the window and running a hand through my hair as I gazed down at the miniature world of people, vehicles, and buildings spread out beneath my high-rise office "Membership was practically guaranteed. My father was a patron, for God's sake!" The absurdity of the whole situation grating at me.
A knock on the door interrupted our conversation. "Gotta run," I muttered. "Call you later." I ended the call before Chris could offer any more unsolicited advice.
My father stood there, radiating an almost unnerving geniality, a woman of quiet elegance at his side.
"Dad?" I questioned, rising to greet him.
"Cole, my boy." He clapped me on the shoulder, his eyes, however, holding a shrewd glint. "Everything alright?"
"Perfectly fine," I assured him, gesturing towards the plush seating area. "Please, have a seat."
Once settled, I addressed him directly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"
He arched an eyebrow, a hint of playful reproach in his expression. "Can a father not visit his son without an ulterior motive?"
"Of course," I conceded smoothly. "You're always welcome. This is, after all, your company as well. Now, perhaps you could introduce your…companion?"
"Ah, yes. This is Samantha. David Alonso's youngest daughter."
"Sir David Alonso?" I clarified, a flicker of recognition sparking within me.
"Indeed," my father confirmed. "She recently completed her Masters in Business Administration. I understand you're looking for a Chief Operations Officer. I thought she might be an excellent fit." He left the suggestion hanging in the air, the unspoken implication clear.
"The role of Chief Operations Officer isn't a mere title to be handed out casually," I stated, my gaze fixed on my father. The implication hung heavy in the air. This wasn't about Samantha's qualifications, but the blatant attempt to maneuver her into my life.
Turning to Samantha, I added, "However, I'm willing to grant you an interview. If you impress, you can start immediately." I watched her closely, curious to see how she'd handle the pressure.
"Thank you," she responded, handing me her resume with a composed demeanor.
"Don't thank me prematurely," I chuckled, taking the proffered file.
My father, sensing the dismissal, patted my shoulder. "I'll leave you two to it. We'll talk later, Cole." With a final nod, he departed, leaving the unspoken agenda simmering between Samantha and me.
I scanned her resume, genuinely surprised by her credentials. Impressive academic achievements, a solid work history. Yet…
"Your CV is commendable," I admitted, placing the file on the table between us, "but none of your previous roles remotely resemble the responsibilities of a COO. Convince me and please spare me the generic platitudes."
Samantha met my gaze directly, unflinching. "You're right. I haven't held this position before. I can't guarantee I'll outperform someone with decades of experience within this company. But I can guarantee I'll dedicate my utmost effort and treat this opportunity with the respect it deserves."
She paused, then added with a quiet boldness, "Give me six months. If you're not satisfied with my performance, I'll resign."
Her directness caught me off guard. It was a gamble, a testament to her confidence, and a refreshing change from the usual corporate maneuvering.
"Alright then," I conceded, intrigued. Picking up the phone, I dialed the HR department. "A candidate will be arriving shortly. Schedule an appointment for her. She's the new Chief Operations Officer."
I then summoned my assistant. "Escort Ms. Alonso to HR. And ensure her office is prepared." I added, as an afterthought, "Assign her an assistant as well."
Samantha offered a final, genuine expression of gratitude. "Thank you, sir. You won't regret this."
An hour later, I was flanked by my secretary and Samantha, en route to a monthly managerial meeting. The perfect opportunity to introduce her as the new COO.
Entering the meeting room, I addressed the assembled executives. "Be seated." All eyes turned to Samantha, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.
"Before we begin, allow me to introduce our new Chief Operations Officer, Samantha Alonso. Extend her the courtesy and respect she deserves." Samantha rose and gave a concise, polished self-introduction before we turned to the agenda.
I glanced at my watch. Lunch was fast approaching. "Anything else requiring my attention before we reschedule?"
My head publicist spoke up, a hesitant tremor in his voice. "Yes, sir."
"Proceed."
"The models for the ad campaign are here to sign contracts."
"And why does this require my presence? Aren't you managing this project?" My tone sharpened.
"Yes, sir, but your signature is required on the contracts." He avoided my gaze.
"Why wasn't this brought to my attention earlier? Why am I only hearing about this now?" My displeasure was palpable, the room falling silent.
I leaned back in my chair, the silence amplifying his discomfort. "Where are the documents?"
"Here, sir," he stammered, rushing forward with two files. I signed them swiftly, handing them back with a curt nod.
"This level of incompetence is unacceptable. Lead the way, i want to meet the individuals we're paying a record fee to represent us."
He practically scurried out of the conference room, leading us to the adjacent one. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes locked onto Lexi, engaged in a conversation with a man I assumed was the male model.
She looked breathtaking, her auburn hair pulled into a slightly disheveled bun, a few errant tendrils framing her face.
"Lexi," I murmured, surprised by her presence. Her head snapped up, her expression a mixture of surprise and…something else.
"I had no idea you were the model," I admitted, a smile playing on my lips. She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a voice.
"Director Cole! What an unexpected pleasure. I'm Steven, the campaign manager." My attention remained fixed on Lexi, catching the subtle eye roll she directed at Steven's fawning. I chuckled softly, taking the offered seat.
Leaning forward, I addressed Lexi directly. "I thought you were on hiatus?" She shot me a look that could curdle milk, a reaction that, inexplicably, I found endearing.
I glanced around, realizing that the entire room was now observing our exchange. I cleared my throat, acutely aware of the sudden scrutiny.
"Please, continue," I gestured to Steven, who, visibly relieved, dimmed the lights and launched into the campaign presentation. My attention, however, drifted back to Lexi, a question nagging at me.
Who was that man with her?