Evangeline followed Carla outside into the vast gardens that surrounded the mansion.
The scent of blooming roses filled the air, and the sound of a nearby fountain provided a gentle melody to the otherwise silent morning.
"These are hydrangeas," Carla said, noticing her gaze on a bush of blue flowers. "They're Sir Castellanos's favorite."
Evangeline's eyes widened as she reached out to touch the delicate petals. They felt cool and smooth against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat of her palm. "They're beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of wonder and sadness.
"Yes, Miss," Carla said, her own gaze lingering on the flowers. "Sir finds peace in the garden when he is upset."
Evangeline nodded absently, her eyes glazing over as she took in the grandeur of the garden.
The sun had fully risen now, casting a warm glow over the meticulously manicured lawns and the array of colorful flowers that lined the paths.
"Miss Evangeline," Carla said gently, leading her down a cobblestone path, "These are peonies. They symbolize wealth and beauty."
Evangeline nodded absently, her thoughts drifting. How could escape?
"Miss Evangeline," Carla called out, breaking the silence. "Your duties will not be confined to the indoors," she said, gesturing to the sprawling gardens. "Mr. Castellanos expects the outdoors to be maintained to perfection as well. You will be in charge of the gardener's schedule and the upkeep of the grounds."
Evangeline nodded, her eyes glazed over.
She knew she had to keep her thoughts hidden from Carla.
The last thing she wanted was for the woman to suspect her of planning an escape.
Vincente sat in his meeting room, the walls adorned with dark mahogany panels and a large, imposing desk at its center.
His back was to the floor-to-ceiling windows, the documents scattered before him.
He sat with his legs crossed, one hand resting on the desk and the other holding a pen.
His associates, all dressed in sharp suits, sat around the conference table.
"The quarterly report shows a slight increase in profits," one of the men, a silver-haired gentleman with a neatly trimmed beard, said, his voice carrying the weight of experience.
Vincente leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the document. "Slight is not good enough," he said, his voice sharp. "We need substantial growth."
The men around the table shifted uncomfortably not wanting to face his boss's wrath.
The youngest, a man with slicked-back hair and a nervous twitch, cleared his throat. "We've had some setbacks with the new model," he began, his voice tentative. "But we're working to rectify the situation."
Vincente's gaze cut to him, his eyes as cold as the steel in his factories. "Your 'setbacks' are costing me money," he said, the threat in his voice as clear as the ringing of a bell. "I expect results, not excuses."
The young man swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "We're doing everything we can," he assured, his eyes flicking to the others around the table for support.
Vincente leaned forward, his forearms resting on the desk. "Not good enough," he said, the edge in his voice unmistakable. "We are not a company that thrives on mediocrity."
The room was filled with the sound of shuffling papers and hushed whispers as the men around the table exchanged glances and talks.
The Castellanos empire was built on power and precision, and the slightest misstep was not tolerated.
Vincent Castellanos's eyes scanned the report, his gaze lingering on the logo of Castellanos Industries, which was emblazoned at the top of each page.
His family's company had grown from a small steel mill into a conglomerate with fingers in automotive, technology, and real estate.
The garage was a treasure trove of luxury vehicles, each one a symbol of power and prestige.
There was the sleek black Ferrari, the growling red Lamborghini, and the elegant silver-gray Rolls-Royce, all with the Castellanos 'V' emblem gleaming on their hoods.
He owned a yacht that cost more than most people made in a lifetime, a fleet of private jets for when he needed to be somewhere fast, and a collection of luxury hotels that catered to the rich and infamous.
Each investment was a strategic move in the grand chessboard of his empire, ensuring that the Castellanos name remained synonymous with wealth and power.
After all he was a billionaire.
But it was the cars, oh the cars, that truly brought him joy. Each one a masterpiece of engineering and design, a declaration of status and taste.
His showroom was a gleaming testament to his wealth.
The floor was made of polished marble, reflecting the soft glow of the recessed lights above.
His companies made sure to hire the best and experienced employees.
Vincent Castellanos knew that the art of export was as much about presentation as it was about the product itself.
His companies had offices in rich countries around the world like Dubai and Japan where profit can come.
The cars were shipped in custom-built crates, designed to protect the vehicles from the rigors of international travel.
"Thank you, gentlemen," he said, his voice deep and commanding. "Dismissed."
The room full of men in suits stood up immediately, bowing slightly as they backed away from the table.
Vincente Castellanos remained seated for a moment longer.
When the last man had left, his right hand man, Chris, slipped in, closing the door behind him with a gentle click.
Chris was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a clean-shaven head.
He was dressed in a tailored black suit that made him look more like a panther than a man. His expression was serious as he approached the don.
"Sir," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We have an issue."
Vincente's eyes closed and opened again, his expression shifting from irritation to interest. "What is it, Chris?"
Chris approached the desk, his steps deliberate and silent. "It's about the Russians, sir. They're moving in on our turf in the east."
Vincent's gaze sharpened, "Tell me more," he said, his voice a low growl.
Chris leaned forward, his expression grim. "They've been making moves for months now, slowly infiltrating our operations. They're looking to take over our shipments and distribution routes."
To be continued...