Chapter 10: The Roses
David Chen, Jordan’s COO, stepped out. His expression already apologetic.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the Goldman team is here early. They’re in conference room A, and they seem anxious to start.”
David’s eyes moved between Jordan and Martina, clearly sensing the tension.
“Should I tell them you need a few minutes?”
“No,” Jordan said, forcing his voice back to normal. Professional. Controlled.
“I’ll be right there.”
He looked at Martina.
“We’ll continue this conversation later.”
“There’s nothing to continue,” she said pleasantly, already turning back to her computer.
“The Goldman contracts are on your desk. Good luck with the meeting.”
She dismissed him.
Martina Hayes, who had spent five years anticipating his every need. Who had made his professional life function with the precision of a Swiss watch. Who had been utterly devoted to making him successful.
Had just dismissed him like he was irrelevant.
The meeting passed in a blur of numbers and negotiations that he normally would have dominated.
Instead, he kept thinking about Martina’s words. About five years of questions he’d never asked. About a woman who’d been right in front of him.
And he’d never really seen her.
When the meeting ended at 11:00, Jordan shook hands, made promises, signed preliminary agreements, and walked back to his office with David beside him.
“And the Singapore team wants a video call at 4:00, which means 2:00 AM their time. So they’re serious about closing this deal. Oh, and this was delivered for Ms. Hayes about twenty minutes ago.”
Jordan looked where David was pointing.
On Martina’s desk sat a crystal vase containing two dozen white roses.
Not red. White. Elegant. Expensive. Thoughtful.
The kind of roses a man sent when he was serious. When he was playing for keeps.
Jordan picked up the small card tucked among the flowers before he could stop himself.
Saturday was magic. Let me show you Sunday and Monday and every day after.
— M.A.
Marcus Ashford.
Jordan’s vision went red at the edges.
