Chapter 61 History
CHAPTER 61
History.
SCARLETT – POINT OF VIEW
Marjorie leads me to the table. Roman is close enough. My heart is pounding hard with every step I take. I look around, committing every detail to memory. Elena’s lesson is coming in handy.
“Alright, sit and let’s eat. We have so much to discuss.” She beams, cheeks rosy.
I’m about to pull the chair when Roman sweeps in, too close for comfort. I bite down my tongue as he helps me pull the chair out, then assists me to sit like an invalid. How condescending of him.
He sits beside me, still too close for comfort, and I try to ignore my nausea as his thick thigh presses against mine.
Marjorie and David are seated beside us. Daniel Price, Rachel Okoye, and Aisha Reynolds are seated across from us. There’s a fourth person, though, a young woman, beautiful, pale skin, big doe eyes and a warm smile. I notice all these things about her only because she’s staring at Roman. Roman, who is staring at me.
Uniformed waiters and waitresses walk to us, holding trays of tantalising food.
“Let me do the introductions, everyone. This is Scarlett Brooks, Roman’s fiancée,” Marjorie begins, and they all smile politely.
“Scarlett, this is Daniel Price, a senior compliance officer; Aisha Reynolds, from the EPA; Rachel Okoye, the Director of Infrastructure and Oversight, FERC, and of course, Lily Mendoza, representing Senator Granger.” She glances at Roman with a wince, “I know I should have told you about Lily’s presence, but I didn’t want to make it awkward.”
Ah.
I sit up immediately. So, there is a history?
Roman glances at Marjorie, then Lily, and drawls, “There’s nothing to be made awkward. This is a business meeting.”
I try not to look as confused as I feel. It doesn’t matter that Roman conveniently forgot to tell me about one of his exes, right? One that is apparently integral to the core of our arrangement? It doesn’t matter, and anything I feel is purely centred on our deal. Our deal, not any feelings or emotions, because there are none.
“Well, not just a business meeting. We’re all friends here, old and new.” Marjorie asserts calmly, eyes twinkling with delight.
No one speaks. Roman doesn’t even look at Lily; instead, he looks at me, placing his large hand over mine, running his thumb over my wrist in a circular motion that should make me feel good, but considering what he said about me, I’m not really interested in his warmth now or ever.
“Let’s eat!” David beams, seeming excited for us to taste his creations.
Thankfully, we eat. The tension dissolves lightly, but I am a tight ball of nerves. My gaze keeps straying to Lily. She’s wearing a corporate two-piece, which makes me feel like a skank. I try not to let the negative feelings dwell and focus on the delicious meal.
Light conversation flows that Marjorie chairs. She always wants to be the centre of attention, and I can’t blame her. Some flourish and bloom under the attention of men, but some like me tend to wither.
We move to dessert, and Daniel Price speaks. “As much as I’d like to pretend this is a recreational visit, we all know it’s business and the last time you spoke about profit, Roman.”
I look at Roman, who, oddly enough, is smiling.
“That’s fair.” He shrugs.
No one speaks; they seem to be waiting for something, for defensiveness. These are not his friends, at least not like Harold is. They are more like vultures, waiting for him to speak, to fall so they can feed. I inhale slowly and shelve my emotions. Then, I reach for him, running my hand over his shoulder.
He looks at me, something flashing in his brown eyes, before blinking it away.
“I’ve had time to think about it,” he continues, “About everything, about how I came across.”
“And?” Marjorie asks with a tilt of her head.
“And I understand why you didn’t trust me. I wouldn’t have either.” He holds her gaze.
Rachael leans forward, “Your numbers haven’t changed. We’ve been following you closely.”
“Well, my priorities have changed and have been clarified.” He drops his hand on my inner thigh, and I freeze.
“Clarified how?” Lily questions, hands folded on the table.
He exhales and expresses calmly, “This project isn’t just a revenue stream. It’s about infrastructure that outlives me. It’s about a legacy, about what we leave behind when we’re gone. Pipelines do not belong to one person. They are a part of our country’s spine, and must be done carefully because a lot is riding on it.”
He is very articulate, and even in a room full of vultures, he still stands tall.
Price raises his brow, “That’s a new language for you.”
Roman smiles thinly, “People evolve.”
“Of course, they do, and as much as we want to believe this new growth of yours, it’s important to point out that last time, you dismissed environmental concerns.” Aisha points out calmly.
“I did,” he admits, “It was a mistake. Delays, lawsuits, and public backlash are not just ethical concerns; they’re structural ones, and a project that isn’t trusted doesn’t last. However, this does not mean I’m backing down from this deal. I intend to win.” His tone is made of steel.
I stay silent, watching the interaction and the fluidity with which Roman answers.
Marjorie studies him, “You’re asking us to believe this is not about ego and greed?”
“I’m asking you to believe I know what permanence requires. Not to pimp my own horn, but I’m the best man for the deal, and you know it.” He brags and leans backwards.
“Maybe the best man, but not the only man. Understanding responsibility and performing it are two different things. You have a bad rep sheet. The public sees you as a man who only thinks with his dick, one who cares nothing for them. You’re a billionaire, so there’s a great divide. They believe you can never understand them, and you don’t even try to. You are comfortable in your expensive cars whilst planning to break down their homes. Can you see our dilemma, Roman?” Rachael declares with a frown on her face.
She’s obviously not trying to be rude, just stating the obvious.
Roman’s jaw is clenched, and his cheeks are flushed. He doesn’t respond, and time stretches uncomfortably.
“What do you think, Scarlett?” Marjorie asks me, and I freeze.
“What do I think?” I blink in confusion.
“Soon, you will be Scarlett Sterling, his wife. You must know him better than we all do, so what do you think? How can you convince us that your husband deserves a billion-dollar deal?” She implores.