Chapter 9
“We got an investor, girl!”.
She read the text in Linda’s voice, imagining it sounding uncharacteristically excited.
Investor? Who would invest in Risher’s when they hadn’t even started properly yet?
“Who?”, she texted back, tapping her feet impatiently on the ground. She was right in front of Mr. Adams door, but she couldn’t get in without confirming who even knew enough about Rishers to invest. Her curiosity would kill her before she left the office.
Linda sent a stream of nonsensical emojis, prompting Aria to roll her eyes. Whenever the woman was excited - which was nearly all the time - she became like this, a five year old.
“Linda! I have a day job here! Answer me!”, Aria typed aggressively, backspacing twice as she accidentally replaced the rs with es.
“They’re like shrouded in mystery, but Beaumont was in the transfers.”
“They sent in 8 million”
“You can literally start Rishers there too”
“We’re rich!”
“Hehehehe”
Aria’s brain ceased to process any other word after “Beaumont”. Rishers was offshore, offgrid, off everything. She planned to launch it fully when she had completed her clap back with the Rothschilds.
The only person that even remotely knew of Rishers was her grandfather, and even he just knew she was interested in ‘pursuing fashion’. He didn’t know she had already bought a company.
How did Aston know?
She tightened her grip on her phone and stuffed it in her pocket. She had a lot more questions to ask her friend, but her mission for now was to infiltrate the Rothschilds, and that was what she was going to do.
She knocked and a male voice said to come in. As she walked in, she immediately saw Hartie sitting on the desk of who she assumed to be Mr. Adams.
“You sure took your sweet time”, he said, leaning back in his seat with a snarl. His hair was combed back and he was looking at her through slanted eyes, lingering irritation in his gaze.
Was this why Jen told her to be careful? The pressure he was emitting was enough to make a lesser woman cower, but Aria had practically been raised by her grandfather, Mr. Adams was a small fry at best.
“Don’t be mad at my sister. She doesn’t know her way around yet”, Hartie said good naturedly, pushing off from her position on the desk to hold Aria’s hand.
Aria almost slapped it away, her skin crawling with disgust as she remembered who had drugged her five years ago. However, she just took it with a little smile, a little sisterly smile.
Two could play at the Green Tea game.
“I would have stayed to chat, but I have work to do. I’ll see you later, Riri”, Hartie said, her cheeks dimpling in a beautiful smile that itched Aria to smack off her face. She looked so upstanding and honest but it was a fucking lie.
“I’ll see you later, Hartie.”
She left, and then suddenly- “Close the door.”
Aria squinted. This scene was suspiciously familiar.
“It’s already closed sir.”
“Then lock it”.
Yes, it was very familiar.
“I’m not comfortable with that, sir”, she said in a measured tone.
The man guffawed abruptly, laughing so hard his face turned pink. His laugh scrubbed Aria brain, the rough quality of it feeling like sandpaper against fragile skin.
“Have your colleagues told you about me? Or do they hate you too?”, he said after laughing, shifting forward in his seat.
“I’m the boss here. Okay? The only person above me, is Liam”, the man said again, standing up from to stare Aria down proudly. It could have worked. But he was shorter than Aria, she was staring at the bald spot in the middle of his head.
She noted with slight concern the size and weight of his stomach. That was no longer a nice round beer belly, he now looked pregnant. She briefly wondered how she hadn’t seen it before.
“Okay?”
His brow furrowed. “You’re a proud thing aren’t you? Your sister gave me free rein to do whatever I could to help you learn the ropes”, he started, his eyes lingering on the swell of her breasts. Aria wanted to stab those eyes out.
“Come here and do a little twirl for me. Remember, I’m being backed by your family”, he took in a deep breath, possibly overworked from needing to talk. “Nothing I do will be of consequence. That’s what happens when you’re strong like me. Don’t you want a strong man?”, he laughed at the end.
What was so funny to him when Aria was seething?
Her blood was boiling in her skin and her heart thrummed. In anger at being subjected to this, and in sorrow for the women that had been subjected to it but couldn’t do anything because he was ‘the boss’.
He was an immovable mountain in their path.
Too bad for him that Aria was an unstoppable force.
She smiled benevolently, like a goddess, unfortunately she was out to smite, and not to bless.
“Alright, sir,” she said, stepping forward. “If it’s a twirl you want…”
Her hand brushed over the edge of the desk.
In one fluid motion, the laughter died in his throat, replaced with a strangled sound of surprise.