Chapter 3 - Room 814
On the eighth floor, the heavy wooden door of Suite 814 slammed shut with a concussive thud that rattled the brass coat hooks on the wall.
"Where the hell were you?" Rachel demanded, spinning around from the panoramic window overlooking the city lights.
She had already shed her camel coat, revealing a form-fitting emerald silk dress that clung to every curve. A chilled bottle of Veuve Clicquot sat on the credenza, half-emptied into two crystal flutes. But her face was devoid of the romantic warmth Daniel had promised her for this weekend getaway.
Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. Her manicured nails tapped against her elbows in an irritated, staccato rhythm.
"I had to take a call," Daniel lied, tearing off his navy jacket and throwing it onto the king-sized bed. His hair was messy where his hands had raked through it, and his breathing was shallow. "Work stuff. The Sterling deal."
"Downstairs?" Rachel raised a sculpted eyebrow. "You took a work call in the lobby bar right next to your wife?"
Daniel halted halfway to the mini-bar. He stiffened, then turned slowly to face her. "What did you say?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Daniel," Rachel scoffed, walking over to the credenza and picking up her champagne glass. "I went back out to the mezzanine to ask the concierge for extra hangers. I looked down. I have eyes. You were standing over her table looking like a rabid dog while that man casually dismissed you."
Daniel’s jaw clenched so hard his molars ground together. "You spied on me?"
"I protected my investment!" Rachel’s voice cracked like a whip. "We came here to celebrate the signing of the term sheet with Sterling Capital. That was the whole point of this weekend! You told me that by Monday, your wife’s family would be completely cut out of the logistics network and we would control forty percent of the new entity!"
"And we will!" Daniel shouted, slamming his fist onto the marble counter of the wet bar. The sound made Rachel flinch, but her glare didn't waver. "It’s just... there’s a temporary complication."
"A complication?" Rachel laughed, a bitter, grating sound that Daniel had never heard from her before. In the months they had spent meeting in boutique hotel rooms and high-end restaurants, she had been all breathy adoration, admiring his business acumen, stroking his ego.
Now, stripped of the illusion of absolute power, the sharp edges of her ambition were on full display.
"The man sitting next to Claire," Rachel said coldly, stepping toward him. "Who was he, Daniel?"
Daniel swallowed hard. "Nobody."
"He didn't look like nobody. The suit he was wearing costs more than your monthly car payment. And the way he looked at you—like you were a cockroach he couldn't be bothered to crush beneath his shoe. Who was he?"
"His name is Michael Sterling," Daniel forced out through gritted teeth.
Rachel froze. The glass of champagne in her hand tilted dangerously, a few golden drops spilling onto the plush carpet.
"Sterling?" she whispered, her voice suddenly stripped of all its venom, replaced by naked disbelief. "Michael Sterling? As in... the heir to Sterling & Vance? The lead investor we’ve been courting for six months?"
"Yes!" Daniel exploded, running both hands over his face. "Yes, alright? Claire hired him. Or partnered with him. I don't know how the hell she did it, Rachel! Claire doesn't know venture capitalists! She spends her time managing community art foundations and organizing charity galas!"
"Her father did," Rachel said in a flat, terrifying tone.
"What?"
"Her father," Rachel repeated, her eyes narrowing as the puzzle pieces fell into place with brutal clarity. "Arthur Harper was the founding trustee of the Midwest Endowment Fund. He went to Princeton with Michael Sterling’s father. Daniel... you idiot. Did you really not know that?"
Daniel blinked, stunned. "Arthur never talked about them. He was a retired manufacturer."
"Arthur Harper was old money!" Rachel shrieked, setting her glass down so hard the stem snapped, splashing champagne across the polished wood. "He didn't need to talk about them because he didn't need to prove anything to anyone! Unlike you! You told me Claire was a passive housewife with zero business leverage!"
"She was!"
"She’s currently holding the leash of the man who controls your entire future, Daniel!" Rachel’s voice rose to an octave that could easily penetrate the drywall into the adjoining rooms. "If Sterling pulls out of the logistics merger, your firm is overleveraged by four million dollars! The short-term notes mature on the fifteenth!"
"I know when the notes mature!" Daniel roared back, his face crimson. "I will fix it! I have meetings scheduled tomorrow. I will talk to the board—"
"The board won't take your calls if Sterling pulls the funding," Rachel said, backing away from him as if his failure were a contagious disease.
She looked at him with an expression that gutted Daniel more than any of Claire's cold insults ever could: disgust. Pure, unadulterated disgust.
"Pack your things," Daniel muttered, trying to regain some semblance of control. "We're going to order room service, we're going to review the prospectus, and on Monday—"
"I’m not ordering room service with you," Rachel said quietly, picking up her small black suitcase from the luggage rack.
Daniel stared at her, horrified. "What are you doing?"
"I’m getting my own room," she said, her voice dropping into a chilly, businesslike cadence. "Or better yet, I’m going home. I came here with an executive who was supposed to be taking over the Midwest freight corridor. I didn't come here to hold hands with a dead man walking."
"Rachel, wait!" Daniel grabbed her arm, his voice desperate now. "Rachel, please. I did this for us! I took those risks so we could have the penthouse, so we could launch your agency’s branding campaign! You can't just walk out on me!"
Rachel looked down at his hand on her arm, the exact same gesture Michael had stopped in the lobby below.
"Take your hand off me, Daniel," she whispered. "Before I show everyone in this hotel what kind of man you really are."
Daniel’s fingers uncurled. He stepped back, devastated.
Rachel walked to the door, paused with her hand on the brass handle, and looked back over her shoulder.
"Your wife was right about one thing," she said with a cruel, pitying smirk. "You really shouldn't have left her."
May you like
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Daniel Harper standing entirely alone in the silent, gilded suite.
***
