Billionaire's Auction

Chapter 5: Setting Boundaries

Emma sat stiffly at the large oak desk in Lucas’s office, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The room exuded an air of power, with its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the sprawling city below. The sleek, minimalist design of the space felt stark and intimidating, a sharp contrast to the creative warmth of her studio. Lucas, standing on the opposite side of the desk, radiated authority. His piercing gaze lingered on her work spread before him, every line of his posture exuding control.

“We’ve discussed the expectations,” he began, his tone cool but firm. “This mural isn’t just a restoration. It’s a reclamation of its original brilliance. Every detail must be flawless. No deviations. No excuses.”

Emma’s chest tightened. While she was no stranger to demanding projects, the intensity of Lucas’s words was suffocating. He wasn’t simply asking for quality—he was demanding perfection, leaving no room for error.

“I understand,” she replied evenly, though her pulse quickened under his unyielding stare.

Lucas didn’t react to her response. Instead, he turned toward the towering windows, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. He seemed utterly at ease, as if delivering such rigid ultimatums was second nature to him.

“The supplies will arrive by the end of the day,” he continued. “You have six weeks to complete the project. I’ll be monitoring your progress closely, and I’ll expect updates at regular intervals.” He turned back to face her, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. “Do not waste my time.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his expectations pressing down on her like a heavy stone. Emma swallowed hard, resisting the urge to voice the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She had worked under pressure before, but Lucas’s cold precision made her feel less like an artist and more like a cog in a meticulously designed machine.

“I’ll do my best,” she said, striving to keep her voice steady.

Lucas’s lips curved into the faintest semblance of a smirk, though it lacked any warmth. “Your best won’t suffice if it doesn’t meet the standards I’ve set. Results are what matters here, Emma. Not effort. Not excuses.”

The words stung, cutting deeper than she expected. He didn’t see her as a person just a means to an end. Lucas’s lack of empathy wasn’t just professional detachment; it was a deliberate wall, a barrier that kept everyone, including her, at arm’s length.

Still, Emma refused to let his words rattle her. She had faced worse. If he thought she would crumble under his relentless scrutiny, he was sorely mistaken. “Understood,” she replied, her tone measured but firm.

Lucas nodded once, a perfunctory gesture that felt more like a dismissal than an acknowledgment. “Good. Don’t disappoint me.”

With that, he turned and strode out of the room, the echo of his footsteps reverberating against the marble floor. Emma remained seated, her body tense, her mind racing. The room felt emptier without him, though his presence still lingered like a phantom.

For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She had always known this project would be challenging, but she hadn’t anticipated the emotional toll Lucas’s cold, exacting nature would take on her. His words had drawn a clear line in the sand: she was here to work, to deliver results, and nothing more.

But Emma wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. If Lucas thought his rigid expectations would break her, he didn’t know who he was dealing with. She had clawed her way to this opportunity, fought through countless obstacles, and she wasn’t about to let his dispassionate demeanor shake her resolve.

She rose from the chair, her gaze falling on the sketches and plans spread across the desk. This wasn’t just about the mural anymore—it was about proving herself, not only to Lucas but to herself. Every brushstroke, every painstaking detail would be a testament to her resilience, her talent, and her determination.

Lucas may have set the boundaries, but Emma was determined to push back in her own way. She would deliver the perfection he demanded, not out of submission, but as a declaration of her strength. And when the mural was complete, it wouldn’t just be a restoration of art, it would be a reclamation of her own sense of worth.

Emma straightened her shoulders, her resolve hardening. Let him watch. Let him judge. She would meet his standards and exceed them, proving once and for all that she was more than just a tool in his grand design. She would make her mark, no matter how high the stakes.