A Wife for the Billionaire
Chapter 71: RICHARD

Chapter 71: RICHARD

I was relaxing in my favorite place, the rooftop garden, literally blowing off steam as I puffed on the weed wrap nestled between my fingers.

The Darkwave hit by Nine Inch Nails, Head Like a Hole, blared in my ears. I kept one of my headphones close just for occasions like this, when the aggressive, industrial beats, the distorted guitars, the haunting synths and angry defiant lyrics of the mentioned song deeply resonated with how I felt.

The heat of the sun bored at me, but I wasn’t really feeling anything, I was floating on cloud nine.

I had made away with my blazer, my shirt was unbuttoned to the fourth, my cufflinks were undone too, my sleeves were folded and my right hand was shoved deep into my pockets while the

other held my stick.

"I’d rather die than give you control" I sang along, screaming the words to the winds.

"Bow down to the one you_"

The light tap on my shoulder died away the lyrics from my lips.

Veering around, Vera stood before me.

She made a gesture at the headphones. Exasperated, I adjusted the pair, so that my left ear was left open.

"I’m done cleaning the office, Sir," she said.

I barely acknowledged her as I made to cover my ear again.

"Um... Sir," she began. "I’m really sorry for not showing you the list yesterday, but I swear on my mother’s grave that I tried to show you twice, but you were too busy to pay me any heed."

"I don’t care. You have one job, never to let me be blindsided in any way. Once you get across any information that concerns me, it’s your duty to make sure that I get in on the info even if I don’t want to, you have to find a way to make sure you get the information across. Hope I’ve made myself clear?"

"Abundantly, Sir" she intoned.

"Now take your pathetic self out of my sight"

"Sir wait," she called as I made to cover my ear again, "remember your meeting with Madame Dame"

I had even forgotten about it. Glancing at my watch, the time was 11:50am, and our meeting was scheduled for 12pm on

the dot.

Meaning that I had just 10 minutes to get to Plot 35, Green Avenue and according to GPS, it was on the East side of town, approximately a 30 minutes drive from my current location.

Dialing Lanke, I yelled to Vera,

"Fucking take this," I shoved the headphones to her, "and go grab my case and my blazer, and meet me in the lobby fast"

"Hello Sir?" Lanke asked as the call connected.

"Get the car to the entrance now!" I yelled, ending the call.

Vera had already left and I scrambled to get myself in order before racing down the stairs.

Madame Dame hated tardiness, it made her feel like she didn’t matter and I’ll have to workshop a suitable apology fast since there was no time to assemble gifts.

A lot of people were already against the partnership with the Dame Dynasty, most especially the Elders and it would be a shame if my actions gave them a reason to say, ’we knew this would happen’.

I had been pacing in the elevator with a weird smile on my face; I was late and I was high, the fate of this meeting was practically in the hands of... fate.

Snatching my items from Vera, I tried to make haste while also walking like the CEO I was, as customers and shoppers stared.

"Plot 35 Green Avenue, drive!"

Turning on Google navigation, Lanke zoomed off.

In 20 minutes, we arrived at the quiet neighborhood of Green Avenue.

The peaceful atmosphere had Lanke slow down as we drove past rows of identical, brown brick exterior two-story buildings with clean lines, simple facades, uniformly spaced windows and doors, adorned with subtle decorative trim and steeply pitched roofs with asphalt shingles.

The street had tree-lined sidewalks with mature oaks and maples providing dappled shade. Manicured lawns and neatly trimmed hedges, occasional benches and lampposts which was a rare sight.

Apart from the sound of the car, the atmosphere was serene, punctuated by birdsong and rustling leaves. In the late summer, gardens boasted vibrant colors making me fantasize about warm evening strolls.

Had my life been different, this was the kind of place I would have loved to live. Perhaps I still could, during my last days which weren’t so far away.

The thought of my mortality made my tardiness and dread to see Madame Dame, a mere caprice.

But that changed as Lanke pulled over in front of what had to be Plot 35. The thought swiped away, I found myself wondering why Madame Dame chose this location. I get the need for discretion, but this was a bit much.

Donning my blazer, Lanke followed, briefcase in hand as we made for the porch. The door was a classic with a transom window. Ringing the doorbell, we waited.

"Good afternoon gents," a stout man greeted as the door opened, without even waiting for a response, he added, "you are late. Just follow me, the Madame is waiting"

We followed him through the nicely furnished house, floral wallpapers, antique collections, colorful sofas, gleaming marble floors, a chandelier like shards of ice, to the back of the house.

Relaxing in the cabana was the 5th Dame of the Dame Dynasty, Madame Dame Elena.

She said nothing as I approached, barely gave me a glance as I stood before her and didn’t acknowledge my presence as I greeted her.

Lanke dropped my case and left with the stout man.

Madame Dame’s gaze was fixed on the rose vines wrapped on the pillars of the cabana. Her dark graying hair was loose under the bonnet she wore. Her expression was that of a person in deep troubling thoughts and as opposed to the custom made business suits known to the Dames, both old and present. She wore a fluxive red gown with gem details at the bosom and petal flares at the shoulders.

Against her florid skin, the gown looked amazing on her, she looked nothing like the woman I had been doing business with for the past 3 months, the woman who had been so reluctant to a partnership that it took 3 months to convince her.

A tray of a jar of juice and two glasses rested on the veneer surface of the table. One of the glasses was half full, whereas the other was empty and faced down on the tray.

"Aren’t they beautiful?" She finally said, her voice bearing a hint of melancholy.

It took me a while to register that she meant the roses.

"Indeed, they are"

"Such beauty, yet so frail," she added.

I had meant to offer what I hoped was a suitable reply or a note of agreement, since I was nonplussed by her words and actions, when she sat up and said,

"You are 18 minutes late, care to explain why you saw it fit to make me wait?"

Gone was the woman who spoke of the roses, the woman that dress seemed to be made for, and gone was the soft melancholic tone that spoke highly of the roses.

This was the Madame Dame Elena, I

knew. This was the cold tone, my ears were accustomed to and make no mistake, that dress was just a corolla hiding the thorns within.

"I sincerely apologize for keeping you waiting. I lost track of time and as made up and cliched as it may sound, I assure you it’s the truth."

"What happened?" Her tone was ice.

"I doubt that would make any difference" I replied.

"You’d be surprised" was all she said.

"Surely her Esteemed can’t be that interested in the frivolities and whims of my life"

"With all the plotting and conniving at the office, my days are rather dull, which is part of the reasons why I left London, only to get here and it seems, it’s much worse. So, just indulge me" she said, sipping her juice and gesturing for me to serve myself.

I obliged and as weird as it was serving myself which was something I rarely do, it was oddly satisfying.

Taking a sip of the amber liquid, I savored the rich taste of orange and the faint tinge of fine whiskey before setting down the elegantly crafted glass with vines and thorns twisting around the translucent walls.

Her offer was weird, in all of our past meetings, she never cared one bit of my personal life. Anything other than business was unacceptable, but then again she has never picked such a neutral location or shared her concern with me.

I knew she was about to be forced to retirement, but I didn’t know that was

part of the reason why she left London.

I analyzed her expression again, searching for creases or any sign that she was playing me, perhaps looking for an edge to hold me with, but she was genuinely interested. No games, no charade.

Her gun metal eyes glazed silver told me all that I needed to know.