The Meeting
Scarlet's POV
I jump out of bed excited for this day. Our business meeting with the ever exclusive Black Moon Architecture. I look lovingly at my still sleeping husband, Mark, then check the clock. 5:03AM. I'll let him sleep longer. I shower and get ready for the meeting. I grab the most faithful outfit I have, my trusty black pencil skirt and white blouse with a dangerously plunging neckline and a black blazer. I put a small amount of foundation on my pale skin and do a mild smokey eye to make my green and brown starbursted eyes pop. I pull my light brown waist length hair into a French twist, parted on the side to show off my one random natural blonde highlight. My mom always said it was a birthmark and I spent years trying to cover it up, but now, I flaunt it. I walk over to my husband and gently touch his face.
"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, sleepy head." I say gently. He groans and tries to pull me back into bed. I jump back quickly, him missing me by a mere inch, "Cat like ninja skills. Besides if you ruin all of this," I motion to my masterpiece of an outfit and updo, "I will kill you" I enunciate the kill for good measure.
He finally opens his eyes to see what all this is, "Oh, wow! You look amazing." He reaches out again. This time, I walk into his grasp knowing what he wants. Like every morning for the past 12 weeks, he puts his hands on my very obvious pregnant belly, even at 12 weeks, a bump is already forming, but it looks like I'm bloated. "Good morning little man, you kicking momma yet?"
"Oh hush. We don't even know if HE is a HE yet. And don't egg him on!"
He laughs as I roll my eyes, "SEE! YOU say he, too! You always have since we found out." He replies defensively.
Annoyed, I turn to leave, "I'm going to wake up Gracelyn. Please start breakfast. We can't be late." He nods and kicks his legs over the bed. I linger for just a minute as I watch his towering, incredibly muscular figure get out of bed. I guess working construction your entire life will chisel you like a Greek god. He turns around feeling me stare. I bite my lip and he winks, I quickly leave the room knowing if I stay I absolutely will be the one to ruin my masterpiece.
I pass our nursery that is ready for this new bundle of joy and make my way down the hall. I open the door to Gracie's room and just watch her sleep for a few minutes. I have no idea where her red ringlets come from as Mark and I both have pin straight hair, but they shine in a way celebrities would pay thousands for. I walk to her bed and gently call her name twice. She opens her eyes and I jump back thinking I swear I saw them glowing. I quickly straighten my demeanor and her eyes quickly go from a glittering red back to their emerald green color. I make a mental note to bring it up with her doctor. I read somewhere that light reflecting in the eyes like that can be a warning sign of cancer. I'm snapped out of my mental anxiety when Gracie erupts in her morning monologue of her dreams.
"MAMA! Ugh, last night was so amazing, my wolf and I were running around the woods all night long. Dancing, prancing and playing under the moonlight. Ugh, the moonlight makes me feel sooo ALIVE!"
I giggle as this has been a constant thing since Gracie could talk. I've prepared my parents for a witchy daughter who charges water under the moonlight. Some kids have imaginary dragons and cats, mine has an imaginary wolf named Ruby. I play into her fantasy, "Oh! That sounds so amazing, I wish I could go on these nighttime adventures with you and Ruby. She is letting that brain of yours rest as well, right?"
She giggles, "You will go with us one day! Ruby told me so! AND I am resting while we play!" Her face turns serious, "Can I touch bubba?" She motions to my belly. "Ruby said I will always have to protect him. I want to protect him now." I melt, nod, and tears touch my eyes. Stupid pregnancy hormones. She reaches for my belly and speaks to my unborn child, "I will never let anything happen to you little brother. I will protect you always."
Man, I think to myself, there is no way this child is only 6. She has the soul of an elder. "Alright honey, it's time to get up, big day for you I hear!" She co*ks her head to the side, questioning me silently. "Well, I heard you were going to grandma's house after school!" She perks up so excited to head out now while pumping her hands into the air. She jumps up from her bed and runs to her closet rummaging through her clothes. "Do you need help?" I ask.
"No! I've got it! Be down in a jiffy!"
I begin walking down the staircase hoping Mark has started breakfast. Ugh, I should've told him not to make me a plate, this morning sickness is horrendous. I enter the kitchen and watch as my handsome husband cooks while whistling. I admire his features from behind. His fire engine red hair, which is really so red it seems unnatural, his tall build towering over me at 6 feet 6 inches, his build makes anyone cower as he would give any full-blooded Samoan a run for their money in the ring. Even though his features would suggest pale skin, he is evenly tanned, which just makes his hair seem more unnatural. As if sensing me staring, he turns around, a spoon in his mouth, and gives me a wide grin showing his incredibly straight white smile. I walk over and stand on my tippy toes while giving him a "come here" with my finger and kiss him passionately.
"AWWWWWW!" Gracie exclaims while walking into the kitchen. Without skipping a beat she follows with "I'm STARVING, where is the food?" My face immediately darkens with disappointment and she quickly squeaks out a "please!"
As if on cue, Mark turns around with two plates in hand. I give him a sad smile and he knowingly says, "Eat what you can. I wont be offended if you can't." He's been a rock through his morning sickness. I nod and take my plate as Gracie screams.
"WAFFLES AND BACON!!!"
I laugh and look at the clock, "15 minutes, we have to be OUT. THE. DOOR. in 15 minutes."
After dropping Gracie at school and sending a reminder text to my mom to pick her up, Mark and I head to Black Moon Architecture. Through the drive we always talk over all of our numbers and strategies to make sure we're on the same page so either of us can make power plays.
"Okay, so Black Moon Architecture is heavily sought after. I know our top is always a 20% fee but I think this is the one and only time we can go as high as 25%. What do you think?
I watch Mark mull it over in his head. "This has been your dream since you were a kid, if you told me you'd be willing to take a loss and give him 50%, well, I'd give him 50% for you babe."
My heart melts knowing that he knows how important this is. This is our biggest project to date and I cannot imagine having it in anyone else's hands than Simon Blacks. He is known to make huge statement pieces that attract attention, publicity and the elite of the elite. For this project, this is incredibly important as this is our debut into high end luxury condos in the city. Our board thought this was reckless and too personal of a play for our company, but with Mark, my parents, and I all holding individual stock, we always out vote them. They stay around though because I do make good profitable decisions and they know it.
With the traffic, a drive that should've taken about 45 minutes, has now taken us about an hour and a half. I swear I would run off into a single cabin in the middle of nature if the city wasn't where the money was at. Situated in the middle of the Chicago metro, the tower overlooks Lake Michigan. We expect a magnificent structure but I could never imagine this gravity and physics-defying masterpiece. Mark throws his keys to the valet and runs around to open my door like always.
"My Queen."
"Such a gentleman," I giggle. Getting serious, "Now you know the drill."
He nods. Every time we meet with an architect, my husband has strict orders to not address me, or at least not bring attention or questions towards me. Most of these firms assume a woman can't possibly be the money and brains behind these massive projects we build. We always let these firms expose their secrets and only then do I interject and usually get lower numbers.
Being in anything dealing with real estate has always been hard as a female, especially given that I'm only 26 years old. Granted, I've almost always had Mark with me since I took over our company, but even when I would go to meetings with my dad before the change of leadership I would hear comments like "you can't actually expect a woman to make a decision in the best interest of the company, can you?" or my personal favorite "with a bigger ass I'd probably take her more seriously. Have you thought of a Brazilian butt lift honey?" When he got punched in the nose he had the audacity to come back with "What? I'm just trying to help her!" What I would give to have the audacity of a man. Misogynistic CEOs are always threatened by powerful women and intentionally make comments like that to try to tear my confidence down. Mark and I working as a team has helped a lot, but it is frustrating to me that I "need" him to be taken seriously.
We are escorted up to the top floor, floor number 94. As soon as I exit the elevator, my stomach does a somersault. Hmmm, I'm not usually nervous for these meetings. It must just be because I've waited for this my whole life. I take a moment to center myself and that's when it hits me. Every single person on this floor could be a runway model. All of a sudden I am nervous. I would never say I'm ugly, but even the women on this floor tower over my 5 foot 8 inch petite figure and are ridiculously sexy. We are led to the far back corner. The gentleman leading us, I think he said his name is Jayden, knocks.
"Sir, your 9 o'clock is here."
A dreamy husky voice responds to send us in. SHEESH! What has gotten into me?! We walk in and I come face to face with Simon Black and my whole world stops. Like Mark, Simon towers over me, also around 6 foot 6 inches, he has the blackest hair I've ever seen that shines and falls in a perfect middle part, kind of like one of those anime characters, with gorgeously tanned olive skin. I would put money on him having some Japanese ancestry a few generations back that still barely shines through his eyes and nose. He smells like patchouli and sandalwood and it smells like home. He smells? What is getting into me!? I'm stuck in his ice blue eyes with mine darting from his ridiculously perfect lips back to his amazing eyes, and I feel like I can't breathe.
