"Good morning, Mr. Drake. Your schedule," said a lanky man with round, dark-rimmed glasses. He stood near the door while a maid fastened Drake's tie in front of the mirror.
Drake gave no response. He didn't need to. The man had learned to continue without waiting for one.
"At ten, you're meeting the CEO of Meta Co. At two, there's the Dukes' charity luncheon. And at seven, you're expected at the dinner celebrating the event's launch."
Drake's attention remained on his reflection.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and striking enough to draw attention wherever he went. The maids occasionally stole glances at him, but the moment his pale, ice-colored eyes shifted in their direction, they looked away.
The room was kept at minus ten degrees. The maid's fingers trembled as she worked, and the lanky man rubbed his hands together beneath his sleeves. Drake stood motionless, unaffected by the cold. To him, it was comfortable.
"Cancel the dinner."
His voice was quiet, but the maid's hands jerked against his tie.
The lanky man's pen paused over the schedule. "The dinner is for the charity committee, sir. They've been expecting—"
Drake turned his eyes toward him.
The man swallowed. "I'll cancel it."
He marked the schedule immediately.
The maid finished the knot and stepped back. Drake studied himself in the mirror, his hands resting in his pockets. Then he gave her a brief nod.
She bowed and left without making a sound.
His suit lay across the king-sized bed, arranged with military precision. Drake glanced at it once.
The lanky man hurried to retrieve it. "Allow me, sir."
He helped Drake into the jacket, smoothing the shoulders with nervous hands. Before Drake reached the bedroom door, the man had already opened it and moved aside.
Outside, a white car waited at the entrance. A chauffeur in a navy-blue suit held the rear door open.
Drake entered without acknowledging him. The chauffeur closed the door, and the lanky man rushed around to the front passenger seat.
As the car pulled away, the estate unfolded around them in a blur of manicured lawns, towering hedges, and private roads. They drove in silence until they reached the outer gate. The security system recognized the vehicle and opened it without delay, allowing them onto the main road.
A phone vibrated in the lanky man's pocket. He checked the screen.
Wifey.
His thumb hovered over the answer button. Picking up in Drake's presence was unthinkable. Losing his job over a call from his wife would be even worse.
He rejected the call and slipped the phone away.
Neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive. A few minutes later, the car turned into the company's private entrance. An attendant opened Drake's door, and Drake stepped out, his expression unreadable.
Employees straightened as he entered. Greetings followed him across the lobby, but Drake ignored every one.
The private elevator stood open. He entered, and the lanky man hurried in behind him, pressing the button for the executive floor before retreating to the back wall.
The temperature dropped almost immediately.
The lanky man folded his arms over his chest. His breath misted in the air, and his fingers began to numb. Drake stood at the center of the elevator, perfectly still, as though the cold belonged to him.
"Did you make the reservation for Jade's birthday?" Drake asked.
The lanky man didn't answer.
Drake slowly turned his head.
The man felt the stare before he met it. "Yes, sir?"
"I asked you a question."
"Yes, sir. Spikes. Seven o'clock." He forced the words out through stiff lips.
The elevator doors opened before Drake could respond.
Drake stepped out first. The lanky man followed, still rubbing warmth into his hands as they crossed the executive corridor.
The boardroom doors had been opened in advance. Everyone inside rose halfway from their seats before thinking better of it and settling back down.
Drake took his place at the head of the table.
Only then did the meeting begin.
"This product is designed for automobile manufacturers," said a man in an expensive suit, gesturing toward the projector. "We're already in negotiations with Tesla."
The presentation had been discussed in previous meetings: a specialized automotive paint produced exclusively by CP Groups.
The presenter clicked to the next slide. "Daimler Group has also offered us an exclusive contract. Personally, I believe Tesla would give us greater prestige and long-term value."
Drake sat with one hand resting against the arm of his chair. He hadn't looked at the screen once.
The presenter noticed and began speaking faster.
"We could position the product as a premium solution available only to select manufacturers—"
"Why?" Drake asked.
The man stopped. "Sir?"
"Why limit the market?"
The presenter glanced at the board members. "Exclusivity would increase demand."
"It would also limit sales." Drake's gaze settled on him. "I'm not interested in making a product people can't buy."
No one moved.
Drake leaned back. "Sell it to every manufacturer willing to pay for it. If Daimler wants exclusivity, they can buy the entire division."
The presenter's mouth opened, then closed.
Drake's eyes hardened. "Do you have a better proposal?"
"No, sir."
"Then stop wasting my time."
The man lowered his head. "Yes, sir."
He finished the presentation in silence. When he announced that he was done, the board members applauded cautiously.
Drake did not join them.
As the sole heir to CP Groups, he had inherited the company after his father's death. The board managed its operations, but Drake held veto power over every major decision. Under his direction, the company had expanded from raw materials into fabrics, clothing, footwear, and now automotive products.
He did not reward mediocrity with praise. If he said nothing, people considered themselves fortunate.
Drake rose.
The applause died instantly.
He left the room without another word and entered the private elevator. The doors closed behind him, cutting off the boardroom's uneasy silence. Moments later, the elevator carried him to the fifth floor, where his office waited.
His secretary stood as he passed. "Good morning, Mr. Drake."
He didn't slow down.
Inside his office, he sat behind his desk and removed his watch, placing it beside a stack of documents.
"Call Garry."
"Yes, sir."
The secretary hurried into the hallway and began dialing.
She was so focused on the call that she failed to notice the tall, beautiful woman walking past her and entering Drake's office.
"Hello, babe!"
The honeyed greeting cut through the room.
Drake's hand stopped over the document he was signing.
For several seconds, he didn't look up. Then he placed the pen down with deliberate care.
"What are you doing here?"
His voice was flat.
The woman's smile faltered.