Chapter 6 - The Uninvited Guest
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The afternoon dragged on with Nora buried under stacks of freight manifests in Roman’s private inner sanctum.
A knock sounded at the double oak doors, and Lev stepped inside with a strange, predatory smirk plastered across his face.
"Boss," Lev said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"You are not going to believe who just walked into our second-floor reception lobby."
Roman looked up from his tablet, his eyes narrowing.
"Who?"
"Gregory Adams," Lev replied, savoring the syllables.
"He says he has an urgent, high-yield investment proposal for the senior acquisition directors of Moretti Holdings."
Nora dropped her highlighter onto the desk, her jaw dropping in disbelief.
"Greg is here?" she exclaimed.
"In this building?"
"The idiot has no idea that Moretti Enterprises belongs to the syndicate," Lev explained, chuckling under his breath.
"He thinks he is pitching a standard private equity hedge fund."
Roman’s face settled into an expression of cold, terrifying delight.
"Send him up to the private penthouse lounge," Roman commanded, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket.
"And ensure our security guards block the elevators once he arrives."
Ten minutes later, Greg stood in the lavish penthouse lounge, admiring the city skyline with his trademark smug expression.
He wore an expensive Italian suit that looked rented, holding a sleek leather portfolio under his arm like a badge of honor.
When the double doors swung open, Greg turned with a practiced, dazzling salesman smile.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen, I appreciate you taking the time to—"
Greg’s words choked in his throat as Nora walked into the room, looking stunning and composed beside Roman Moretti.
Greg’s eyes bulged, the color completely draining from his face until he resembled a freshly plastered wall.
"Nora?" he gasped, his voice squeaking like a stepped-on dog toy.
"What... what are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing, Greg," Nora said, her voice dripping with venomous calm.
"Though I assume you aren't here to explain the nutritional value of truffle risotto."
Greg took a frantic step backward, his gaze shifting to Roman, whose reputation was infamous among the city’s financial elite.
"Mr. Moretti," Greg stammered, his knees visibly knocking together beneath his trousers.
"There has been a terrible misunderstanding."
"I filed a police report! Nora went missing last night from an alleyway!"
Roman walked slowly toward Greg, his hands resting casually inside his trouser pockets, projecting pure menace.
"She didn't go missing, Gregory," Roman said, stopping inches from the trembling podcaster.
"She was rescued from the trap you set for her."
Greg swallowed hard, beads of sweat dripping from his chin onto his pristine silk tie.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I swear to God!"
"Julian Rossi gave you three million dollars in credit," Roman said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper.
"In exchange, you were tasked with seducing an employee who could leak our container clearance codes."
"You thought you were dealing with a frightened marketing girl who would fold under pressure."
Roman grabbed Greg by the front of his lapels with one hand, lifting him three inches off the hardwood floor.
"Instead, you delivered her directly into my hands," Roman snarled, his eyes burning with lethal fury.
"And she just uncovered every single money laundering entity you registered under Aegis Capital."
Greg let out a pathetic whimper, his hands clutching desperately at Roman’s iron grip.
"Please, Mr. Moretti! Rossi will kill me if the funds are frozen!"
Roman dropped Greg unceremoniously to the floor, where he collapsed in a pathetic, shuddering heap.
"Rossi will be the least of your concerns by the end of this week," Roman said coldly, turning his back on him.
"Lev, take Mr. Adams to our basement holding suite."
"Let him spend the night thinking about value versus experience."
Two guards hauled the sobbing man out of the room, leaving the corridor echoing with his desperate pleas.
Nora stood silently, watching the door close, a wave of profound vindication washing through her chest.
Roman walked back over to her, his intense eyes softening as he looked down at her face.
"That was for you," he murmured.
Nora looked up, her pulse racing in her throat.
"Thank you, Roman."
"Do not thank me yet, Nora," he replied, his hand lightly touching the curve of her waist.
May you like
"Tonight is the annual Metropolitan Charity Gala at the Grand Plaza Hotel."
"Julian Rossi will be there, and we are going to introduce you as my official fiancée."
