24 24

Layla

"We need to talk, Layla..." Henry said on the morning of my meeting with Amanda Donaldson. My heart leaped in its cage. Though he was on the phone and was not present with me, I was still reluctant to speak with him.

After Nathan had dragged him to the nursery two days ago, we hadn't talked or said much about what had happened between us. In fact, I wished he would just let it go, but apparently, he didn't have that in mind.

"Can we meet? Should I come over?"

"No, no...we can meet outside...somewhere else. I'm actually on my way to meet with Amanda, so today is unlikely," I responded.

"Yeah, sorry, I almost forgot..."

"Yeah." I breathed.

"Which day works for you?"

I thought for a moment, I didn't want to talk to him, but it couldn't be evaded.

"How about Saturday?" I finally said.

"Cool," he replied.

"Yeah."

"Have a nice trip then."

"Thanks." I hung up.

I sighed.

Things didn't have to come to this, did they? I was so bothered, I had misplaced my constraint, and now I was suffering because of it.

Hannah was more than willing to babysit Nathan for me, and I was more than glad to have her do that. I had begun to feel the distance between us was no longer there and that we were truly family.

I arrived at the headquarters and was ushered in as a normal guest. Keeping my identity hidden has proven to be a very practical decision for me, though I didn't receive the VVIP treatment. It gave me the opportunity to freely interact with my employees and find out several things I wouldn't readily be open to. It was satisfying.

"Welcome Miss Carter..." Amanda was walking towards me with a broad smile on her face. She had grown even prettier since I last saw her.

"Thanks, Amanda." I embraced her.

"Welcome Miss Carter." Christian, the vice president, extended a handshake.

"How are you?" I warmly received his hand.

"Never better." He twitched a smile.

"Let us go now, shall we?" Amanda said.

"Of course." She led the way.

After the meeting, I decided to take a stroll around the fashion house with Amanda.

"I truly believe your new designs will shoot up sales before the end of this month." She opined.

"Thank you. Not long ago, it dawned upon me that I had not been alone on this journey, in making what Laynat is today."

She nodded and I continued.

"Yeah, so I want to appreciate the entire staff and, as it is the beginning of the year, I believe everyone has something he or she wants to have or acquire during this period. So I'd like you to take a survey and give me feedback on this."

"That's an excellent idea, ma'am. I'm touched you have our best interests at heart." She chuckled.

"I should, I am responsible for your welfare and comfort."

"I'm envious of your kindness..."

"And I am envious of your dedication to this fashion house."

She beamed a smile.

"Both you and Christian will have special incentives," I added.

"I'm so grateful."

"That's nothing." I touched her shoulder. "I believe everyone should be rewarded accordingly."

She nodded with a smile.

"Are you free later today?" She asked.

"Hmm, I have an appointment with someone at 4 pm. Why do you ask?"

"Ah, I heard you are an enthusiast. Am I right?"

"Yeah...I appreciate art." I asserted.

"Well, there is a new gallery not very far from here. Today's the launch and I've gotten tickets." She said.

"Oh, alright..."

"Could we see it together?" She asked with a twitch of her eyebrows.

"Okay, I can't spend much time over there, but I will come with you."

"It will be fun...and oh, we could have lunch in its cafeteria too." She finished.

Leo

The surprise Ariadne had for me was announcing our supposed relationship status in front of everyone at the party. I could only hope no one would remember it in two months. She was literally crazy and I was helpless.

As Oliver has said, I should find a way to make her get over me. Perhaps I'd hook her up with Tony, since he found her hot.

On Friday morning, I was in NYC, seated comfortably in Kimberly Lesley's office and staring at the gorgeous sight of her.

"Would you like a cup of latte?" She asked sweetly.

"Sure. Thank you."

She pressed a button on her desk, and the younger lady who had ushered me in briskly walked in.

"Shelley, get two cups of latte," Kimberly said. I watched as her full red lips flattened and contracted.

Mr. Lesley's daughter turned out to be more pretty than I had thought. And there was a subtle manner in which she did things, like when she pushed back her chair, you could hardly hear it.

And the way her hand hung elegantly in the air when she spoke (that was when she wasn't reclining her arms on the table). I must admit, she was the first woman in four years to get so much attention from me.

"I'll be right back." Shelley ambled out.

"I hope you are comfortable." She twitched a small smile at the corner of her mouth, tossing back a trespassing strand of red hair.

"Of course." I hoped she was unable to detect the excited look on my face.

"You have a fantastic establishment...the structure is staggering, and I expect to see the outstanding collections of art during the launch." I complimented.

She slightly chuckled.

"It's an honor to have Leo Cooper of COOPER CORP. Say such wonderful things about my little investment." She humbly expressed.

"Little, you say?"

She let out a little distinct laughter.

"It's beautiful here."

"Thank you." She said softly. "You should know my father has told me about you." She added.

"How much?"

"Not very much, but he thinks his search for an eligible suitor for me has come to an end." She said smoothly.

"What do you think?" I asked out of curiosity.

"I think he is not right, I'd like to meet Mrs. Cooper very soon." She was straightforward.

I nodded smilingly.

"Is that the ring?" I pointed at the diamond ring I'd noticed earlier, sitting prettily on her ring finger.

"No, this is to chase off the men." She said point-blank. I couldn't but chuckle, she was

different from other women. "I do not intend to get married."

"Why?" I didn't expect that.

"It's just my choice." She said briefly and said nothing more about it. I guessed she didn't have to tell me after all.

Kimberly was an independent professional, so I think she was married to her work. Her complete dedication was what had brought her so much success in her business. I wouldn't put her off, marriage wasn't much of a big deal anyway. It was just a hip these days.

"Does he know about it?"

"He's bound to know in due time." Was her response. "Oh, Shelley's here!" She said just as Shelley walked in with the cups of latte.

"Thank you very much, Shelley, and here is the tip." She took out a thousand-dollar note from her purse.

"Thanks a lot." Shelley smiled, bobbed, and then walked out.

"You are so generous." I was amazed.

"I'm quite extravagant." She gave a self-deprecating smile.

Layla

The gallery was quite large, as it was new. I hoped the arts would also evince novelty. I embrace novelty in art and the transformation of the original ideas, but not their complete extinction.

They should retain the elements of deep thoughts and feelings, the elements of timelessness. Though novelty was something I cherished, I couldn't find meaning in it if these elements were left out.

"Hello ladies and gents, it's my pleasure to have you all here," a young lady had grabbed the microphone and was talking.

"That's Kimberly Lesley. She is the CEO of KIM Galleries. This is her eighth gallery in three years, if I'm correct," Amanda whispered.

I nodded, staring at the lady. She was beautiful in her blue cotton cardigan and mini skirt and over it, was a yellow trench coat. A vintage scarf was wound around her neck and her red hair dropped elegantly behind her back with a black French hat on her head. Her legs wore a pair of black chic stiletto pumps. She was fashionable and undeniably rich.

"... I hope you all find your time here inspiring. Thank you." She finished, and the entire hall resounded a round of applause. A young lady came and whispered into her ear. I saw her give a slight nod and then the lady left.

"Oh look at this!" Amanda was busy checking the paintings out while I was distracted.

"Fresco painting." I turned to the beautiful artwork.

"You surely know a lot of art..." She chuckled.

"My dad knew something about it," I mentioned.

She nodded.

"Who's the artist?" I rather said to myself.

"Allana Howse," Amanda read. "I think the painting's great." She smiled.

"Hmm."

"Who's your favorite artist, by the way? You have one, don't you? Classical, modern?" She queried.

"Rembrandt. My father and I had a mutual love for him," I responded.

She just nodded quietly.

"Do you know who that is?"

"I guess not." She let out an awkward chuckle.

"You can look him up later. He was Dutch. There are quite several paintings and etchings. St. Paul in prison, the saints, the apostles...he literally depicted the entire Bible in his works."

"That's impressive."

"Yeah...I think his art is remarkable, his knowledge and mastery of light tones...his approach to painting is... expressive and very refined."

"Oh, I'm genuinely interested now." She smiled.

The next painting was by an Australian. I often see works like this in big galleries.

"It's a privilege to feel so at home, staring at it even when I'm far away," Amanda said and sighed softly. I forgot for a moment that she was an Aussie.

"You must miss home so much."

"Yeah." She smiled, not at me, but at someone behind me. I turned around to see a gigantic man flashing big teeth.

"Hello."

"Hi." She went ahead to shake his hand. I wondered what was happening here.

"We meet again." The man said, his voice husky and sort of loud.

"Yeah. How have you been?" She was smiling sheepishly.

"I've been great. Trust you have been good too."

She nodded with a smile.

"I'm sorry to meet my bo-"

"I'm her friend, Layla." I cut in. Was she about to introduce me as her boss?

"Nice to meet you, Layla, I'm Jackson." He shook my hands. His palms were coarse, I wondered what he did with his hands.

"Amanda, I'll be at the cafeteria," I said, trying to give them some alone time.

"Won't you look at the paintings some more?"

"No, remember I have an appointment. I'll get takeout for lunch and then leave, all right?"

"Okay," she said sulkily. "I'm sorry." She mouthed.

"It's okay. Have fun." I mouthed in return, discreet enough for Jackson not to see me.

Then I headed towards the cafeteria, passing by a painting I had the feeling was birthed out of reverence for Artemisia Gentileschi, some sort of pastiche that was viciously convincing.

Leo

"Lomi's a badass, and I am horrified by how her work increasingly satisfies me each time I look at them..." Kimberly was saying as we stopped in front of the brushwork.

I had gone to receive a call earlier, so I had missed her speech, but she was filling me in.

"Perhaps it's just the degree of feminism you both share..." I commented.

"I haven't mentioned that I was a feminist." She cocked her head towards me.

"Gentileschi wasn't joking with her paintings, was she?"

"Of course, she wasn't and that is where the attraction rises from. Though I am not much of a painter, I'd like to collect as many paintings as possible..."

"Have you perhaps gone through some sort of emotional trauma?.. I'm sorry..."

She stared mutely at me and then turned to the painting in front of us.

"Perhaps, here is my house of medicine, my house of succor...that is what I choose to let you believe."

She was impossible.

"I think you still see me as a stranger..."

"You are my guest, signor." She slightly chuckled.

"Right."

"There's drama, there are dimensions, there's color..." I knew we weren't talking about the brushwork.

"What genre of painting do you fancy?" She asked.

"I don't know much art, but I think this is pretty." I pointed at the brushwork.

"Art isn't pretty until it's provocative." She smiled innocently. "But Thomas Murray is one of the outstanding painters of the twenty-first century I know." She finished.

We stood quietly, supposedly musing on the piece of art, but I soon got bored and my eyes wandered across the room. There was quite a crowd, but I could detect Miss Amanda Donaldson among them.

What was she doing here?

Yeah, she was with a man, so she must have come on a date.