Him or his Best Friend

𝐂𝐡. 𝟒 | 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐥

Chase

"You can't be serious. Are we having a meeting with a half-drunk CEO at 10 in the morning?" the old man chuckled with arrogance.

"Being drunk has nothing to do with the facts of the deal, if they're correct," I snapped back at his confidence.

"You have fifteen minutes to present your backup presentation to me and if it doesn't get me sober in the first two minutes you guys can leave," I continued as I leaned back onto the leather chair.

The Operas Housing, they were our long-

connected clients. But lately, they have had a lot to say about my habits which I absolutely hate. They came up with another housing scheme around Brooklyn which was amazing along with a whole lot of crap about huge investors and the types of modern designs they'd be using. The actual issue rose at the cost.

"$890,000 per lot."

"Did my PA not talk to you before the meeting? The prices I outlined for the lots was 1.5 million considering it's covering the plan you laid out," I spoke, taking a cigarette out of my box.

"1.5 million is too much. That cuts off more than half the profit that our investors get," he spoke.

"The profit that investors receive does not concern me," the annoyance in my voice takes over whilst I smoke the cigarette.

I hold the cigarette in between my fingers as I take a puff out of what I had just inhaled in. Disgust plasters across a few faces.

"The decision is yours. We have other housing schemes waiting in line that are willing to give us the amount we prefer for the plot. Even higher if they're planning profitably," I elaborated taking another puff of the cigarette.

A discussion arises between the two leaders of the project. Well, the leader of the project and the CEO of the company. Again, all that comes out of their mouths is investors, investors, investors. Because of these investors the low societal classes never seem to have better life.

"We'd like some time to think," the CEO says in distress.

"You have twenty-four hours to make the decision. If I end up liking a housing scheme over this one then you'll be notified," I exhale smoke.

A small but nervous smile came across his face when he nodded his head up and down professionally. Everyone stood up  and left one by one. I spun around on my chair and faced the view of the New York city outside the huge glass window.

A killing strain spread across my brain with each puff I took. The sunlight was hurting my brain even more with the hungover. Was she okay now? Would she still be in the hospital? The patch of obsession on my brain for Liya only seems to grow wider and it itched with immense pain.

"It's not professional to be smoking amongst your partners and turning up half-drunk to your meetings when locking an important deal," a familiar voice scolded.

"Last time I checked the records, I am the CEO," I say spinning my chair around to face him.

"Not you," my eyes immediately lock to his.

Luka stood there in a navy-blue suit looking dashing. His hair done properly. Completely opposite to mine. I was wearing a turtleneck that I randomly threw over myself this morning with some formal pants and rocked up to work with hair that were brushed with my hands instead of a hairbrush. He walks over to take a seat at the table. I breathe in the smoke from my cigarette, waiting for him to talk.

"I heard about the scandal," he hesitantly brought up.

"How's Liya?" my tongue forcefully asked to ease the chaos in my head.