[OLIVER'S POV]
OLIVER BLACK SWIRLED THE MARTINI glass between his index and middle finger, staring down at the golden glossy tequila, both rich in price and in taste before he took another sip out of it, swallowing the bitter sweet liquid.
Feeling soothed he exhaled, alcohol had always managed to ease his worst of moods. He placed the glass carefully upon his desk and spinned his chair to the window behind him. Oliver was seated on black leather, made specially for him and in his office too was designed for his taste. Dark as night with the only light that filled being the enormous wall of a window which granted him the best view of New York City.
He smirked, he loved being on top of everything. Once higher everything else becomes preeminent in an insignicant, small and worthless standard—more room for you to see its flaws. He remembered those words from his father. He hated the man but somewhat took his advice, it was that advice that made him who he is. A man often referred to as perfection. The face of ViscionCo enterprises.
He stared at his reflection proudly in the shimmering glass before he poured himself a refill of tequila, positioning himself to the window once again. His eyes skimmed through the tiny passing cars below as well as small businesses and some of the buildings he invested in before he pointed out an aged house through the street, one that he marked with an X to get rid of in order to have a Bar built in its place.
Either way the house was so tremednously ruined that he questioned who would still live in such. With a rotting metal fence, mossed roof and white chipped painted walls he questioned the person's sanity. 'Why must it be planted so closely to my Franchise?'
He dialed a number on his phone, tapping furiously until he found it.
"This is the construction agency. What can we do for you?"
"What can you do for me?" He gritted his teeth in agitation, "It seems to me that you cannot do anything at all. So you tell me?"
"Oh Mr. Black…" The man's voice went lower after discovering who he was speaking to. He cleared his throat, "What…uhm…what can I do for you, sir?"
"That ruined house." He massaged his brows, "With the stubborn owners. Why on earth is it still standing, are you trying to make a joke of me. I issued about this a week ago, you must know what that means. I want it down! I don't care how stubborn they are, just get rid of it. Pay them double, threaten them for all I care."
"But Mr. Executive there's nothing we can do about it."
"Well that seems to be your problem. I bet you value your job, Todd, think about your wife Todd." He hung up before he could've utter another word and soon after heard knocking on his door. He switched off the phone and looked ahead, straightening his tie.
"Enter." Was all he said and his secretary entered, her head bowed as always and her hands shaking with rather important documents in them. She was obviously scared of him, never risking to hold any form of eye contact or raising her voice above her usual squeak.
That was one of Oliver's charms. He was a man that made women squirm in the likes of him. And he preferred it that way. Being a man who found himself in multiple relationships, having women come to him was always a pleasure but he never mixed it with business.
"Is it important?" He questioned nonchalantly with a raised brow, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at her, "Aren't I all the way over here, Trisha Payne?"
"Yes sir."
"Then…"
"Sorry sir." She walked hurriedly over to his desk, "These are the minutes for the last week from the documentation team sir."
He took the file and scrolled through it attentively before he closed it. "Is that all?" He stared into her eyes, sensing that there was something more, there was always something more and being Chief Executive he always made it his duty to ask.
"A meeting has been called upon you sir."
"Our treasurer? I already spoke with him."
She shook her head, "It is a miss called Samantha."
Oliver sat frozen, his eyebrows arching and his fists clenched tightly in a ball on top of his desk until his fingers cracked. "Samantha…Campbell?"
"That is what she called herself sir—"
"What the fuck does she want?"
"I-I don't know sir, she only said she wants to meet with you at the restaurant, one that you will know. She also told me once I asked that it isn't necessary for her to discuss details with me."
"Leave." He told the frightened girl as his tempered rose and immediately once the door was closed behind her he wrapped his fingers around the tequila bottle which he drunk empty and threw it aggressively at the door, pieces of glass exploding like fireworks and littering the clean room with shards.
Oliver sat backseat in the parked limousine, staring through the tinted window at a beautiful young woman. With long blonde straight hair that flowed till her plump breasts and her usual spicy red lips that she imprinted upon the wine glass. Her cheekbones were hollow and her pale skin highlighted under the restaurant light. She was truly beautiful but Oliver knew her too clearly.
He knew that she was type of crazy woman to commit a silent crime of strangling a person in their sleep and that her pretty mouth was used to tell the deadliest of lies. Again, he knew Samantha Campbell.
"Should I leave and return here for you Mr. Executive."
"No." He opened the door and locked eyes with his driver in the rearview mirror, "There'll be no need for that. I won't be here for long." He placed a foot out but before he exitted, lowered his voice threatingly, "Tell no one of this stop, Fredrick." He warned and then entered the restaurant, anger in his steps when he walked toward her table.
Samantha lowered her glass and wore a pretencious broad smile when she saw him, gesturing to the chair in front of her, "Please sit." She said, "Can I get you something to eat?"