“Do you know man, life’s fucked up, I mean look at me,” Chad, Marco’s friend paused briefly, flaring his arms, and continued. “Just look at me.”

 The man had been going on and on like a broken record since the past two hours while Marco sat back in a plush, silken soft velvet upholstered seat at Ritz’s business lounge with his back resting comfortably. 

“I mean… just look at me.” Chad shook his head in disbelief once again, and Marco cursed Victor for dragging him into this mess for the hundredth time in the past hour. The squeak of the door opening made him sigh in relief, where he hoped Victor had finally arrived, but he almost sucked in an angered breath when a tall redhead walked in with a tray full of refreshments for the duo.

 “Nobody dies virgin, I tell you! Nobody! Life fucks us all!” Chad’s random outburst earned him a rather disconcerting look from the female who at this point was trying to position her chest in a way that wasn’t quite scanty, before Marco as she served him a glass of Pinot.

Chad William was Marco’s best friend. Well, Marco wouldn’t have known what else to name their acquaintance. They had met in a slightly unconventional circumstance after all, now that he thought of it. The man was absolutely dimwitted when it came to women, Marco thought, while reminiscing their first encounter at a frat party. Both of them had been wasted. And the only difference in between them at that very moment was that Marco had tagged along with his older brother and Chad –well Chad had been Tinkerbell among the houseful of rather untamed and on-the-leash bunch of wild hyenas. Let’s just say, Marco was one of those rather untamed and on-the-leash bunch of wild hyenas. It was a nightmare for a man’s pride, to say it in the least.

“Wives! They strip you bare of your wealth. Pesky creatures.” Chad added with a scoff 

Yes, Chad Andrew William was a married man. Not even two years had passed and his whining over his loss of freedom and liberty that had been stripped away from him, had begun. Such were the confessions of men who married early, Marco thought dryly, eyeing Chad who sat with hunched shoulders, his head buried in his fists opposite to him. Marco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the male specimen before him. 

“Now that you’re done –I hope, will you tell me why you’re on your time of the month again?” Marco finally asked, growing exasperated of the situation posed to him. 

“It was my birthday two days ago!” Chad screeched like a twelve-year-old brat.

“What? Your mommy forgot to bring your favorite cereal?” Marco muttered under his breath. The man sitting before him was a damned twenty six year old grown up. But yet his ability to act like an infant never bode well with him.

“Damn it Marco! My wife!”

“I swear to God, if you go on once more in incomplete sentences I will kick you out of my meeting room.” Marco, at last found it in himself to excrete his rather mounting anger at his friend.

“It was my birthday two days ago! Damn it, my wife got me a signed, vintage Beatles album.” Chad raged. Marco just stared dumbfounded at his friend. Chad had always loved the Beatles. Yet his outrage about his wife finding such a thoughtful gift for him surprised him. 

“Didn’t you go ballistic over the Beatles in sophomore year back in college?” 

“Yes! I bloody did. That’s not what the problem right now is! The problem is, an unknown asshole way, way outbid me for the same album four days ago over E-bay! Eight hundred dollars! Damn.”

“I’m still trying to fathom why this should anger you…” Marco mused.

 “That asshole was none other than my very own wife! She outbid me using my very own credit-card!”

 It took ten seconds for Marco to comprehend the situation, before he burst out laughing. A full my-belly-is-hurting-because-of-this-shit kind of laugh.

 “Damn. That sucks.” Eight hundred dollars were no big deal for Marco. He made a triple of that kind of money every fifteen minutes. But Chad’s depression on the matter was honestly making him want to laugh.

 Shit, his friend was a whiny wuss.

 “Don’t laugh asshole. Not everyone has the ability to shit money every five seconds.” Chad muttered giving Marco a sideward glare.

Marco sat back on his chair once again, and slowly took a sip of his drink. The mahogany desk shone under the colossal crystal chandelier, which was suspended above it, in all its glory. He subtly eyed the time on his wristwatch wondering where the hell is older brother was. 

“Don’t ignore me you fucker! God, I wish you got a wife soon. I curse you.”

Chad’s face was red. Sometimes Marco wondered why men even went through the trivial ceremony of marriage. Clearly, it did not bode well for men who valued their own personal lives and their ability to make decisions that they thought right. Right now, hearing Chad binding him with the curse of a wife, sounded like a foreign phenomena to Marco.

There was no way in hell he’d get a wife.

“You really do want me to kick you out, don’t you? You’re practically begging for it.” Marco replied in a solemn voice.

Chad’s eyes widened briefly, before he promptly clamped his mouth shut, scrunching up his face. Satisfied Marco shifted to the set of documents before him, to go through them once more, when he heard a timid, masculine voice.

“Damn my eight hundred dollars. Stupid wife.”

…

Half an hour, four glasses of Pinot and countless minutes of Chad’s whining later, Marco Arthur Davinci sat with one hip perched on his desk, his weight braced on the opposite foot. His expression betrayed the emotion of brewing anger as he listened to Victor, Chad and the two auditors, along with his human recourses manager who were seated on the luxuriously upholstered sofa at the far end of the air-conditioned business lounge, across the chocolate brown wooden table discussing the takeover papers that they were preparing to file.

"Are you gentlemen conversing about the Austin Parker from Portland?" The plump, bespectacled auditor on the sofa at the left end, looked up for the first time from his rather weighty stacks of ledger files. "That's the name of the man who heads the group who is planning to take over the office building you were constructing in Portland, Arthur.  Three months ago they'd already made the bank an offer to buy it and finish it."

"That greedy, land-grabbing vulture!" Chad hissed, and launched into a train of ferocious expletives under his breath.

Marco didn't hear him. All of the roiling pain and fury he felt over losing his offices he’d spent his time, investment and sweat over, was exploding inside of him in a volcanic surge of pure rage that now had a target he could strike: Austen Parker.

"He is also on the board of directors of that same bank, and it refused to lay more emphasis on the pending loans Parker Co. owed me, to continue my construction so that I could finish the building," he said in a low, threatening voice.

Marco's gaze was turned toward the windows of his prestigious hotel’s high-rise lounge as he watched the unparalleled water views of New York Harbor and the Lower Manhattan skyline in glowing natural daylight. His eyes caught onto a white boat cruising away into the endless seem of blues. His eyes followed it, clinging to it as it receded to a minuscule golden speck on the horizon.

"As far as you personally are concerned, Marco," Victor spoke up, "there is no need for Parker Co. to file bankruptcy for them to go out of business. You have enough of their shares to take over the company. Plus the fact about their inability to cover their outstanding debts is enough to throw them out of business. The banks that loaned them the money, which they in turn loaned to the corporation, will foreclose on the island, houses, plane, yacht, art collection, they have been boasting and the banks will try to recover their money by selling them to others. The two other personal debts they have to you are for the two office buildings they have constructed in Virginia and Portland."

Barb reached across the large coffee table in front of him and picked up a sheet of paper from one of the stacks. "The banks that loaned them the part of the construction money are preparing to sell the buildings to other investors. Naturally, those investors will make profits when they finish the buildings and sell them. And obviously, they will also be able to keep most of the thirty-five million dollars of their own money that they put into each building." He glanced briefly at Marco. "You were probably aware of the fact by then?"

Marco nodded impassively.Behind him, the intercom on the vast table sounded and his assistant’s agitated voice burst over the speaker.

"A certain Mr. Austin Mark is calling from his main office in Portland again. He is extremely importunate about speaking with you, Mr. Davinci. He is swearing at me," she continued succinctly. "And clamoring."

"Convey to him, that I told him to call me some other time when he feels more collected, and then disengage the call," Marco said curtly.

Victor smiled.

"Oh damn, I wonder if he is somewhat distressed about the news spreading like wild fire about his incompatibility with signed contracts. Investors must be immediately asking for a withdrawal of money hearing the bastard hasn’t returned his loans to you, nor does he intend to. It is all over the ‘The Economist’ and the business columns of the national papers."

One of the two auditors glanced at Victor with sardonic amusement for his callowness.

"I imagine he's a hell of a lot more upset about his shares. Parker Co. was selling for thirty-one dollars a share three weeks ago. Today in the morning after I checked, the cheat’s down to eleven. That seems to be a pretty damn plausible excuse for panicking."

Victor leaned back into the sofa and folded his arms. His smile was gloating. "I wonder what could be wrong?" However, his smug smile moderated a little as he raised his eyebrow in curiosity immediately at Marco's intimidating scowl which did nothing to Victor.

Before him the buzzer on the desk went off yet again. Chad brought forth his arm and answered it automatically while the auditors gathered up their papers, preparing to leave. "Mr. Davinci," his assistant said in a tired voice. "Mr. Parker is on the line. He says he feels as collected as ever."

"Put him on," Marco said in icy softness.

Parker's voice erupted over the speaker system making the five men cringe. "Motherfucker!" he screamed in anger. Marco nodded a curt dismissal to the auditors, and flicked a look at Victor, Chad and Barb that invited him to say. "You filthy deceitful bastard, are you there?" Parker shouted.

Victor’s eyes were now glued to Marco’s face, gauging his expression at Parker’s words. Marco's voice was quiet, calm and very menacing. "Should we now continue our conversation regarding our business, now that you have insulted my legitimacy?''

"Fuck you. I don't have any business with you, you—"

"Austin," Marco said in a satiny voice, "You are now pissing me off, and I become every bit of the motherfucker you called me, when I am pissed. You owe me forty-five million dollars."

"I owe you shit you conniving liar," he thundered.

"With interest it is now over forty-five million. You have been drawing interest on my money for four years. I think it’s time for you to return my rightful money to me.”

"Go to hell you bastard!" he hissed.

Marco smirked and a chuckle escaped his lips. He replied with a growing smile in his voice. "Now, now. You calling me a bastard every three minutes, really makes me wonder if you actually were the one who impregnated my mother?” when he heard an angered huff over the line he continued smoothly, “Beginning today, it is going to cost you two point five million dollars for each day the money remains unpaid."

"You can't do that, you don't have that much influence, you arrogant son of a—"

 "Just watch me," Marco bit out, and then he broke the connection. 


Chad leaned forward eagerly, "Do you have that much influence, Marco?"

"Yes."

"But if he doesn’t believe you do—"

"If he doesn’t believe it, he is a dumb fuck. If he is not a dumb fuck, he will not want to risk losing another two point five million today, and he will call back within two hours so that he can get the money into my bank in Portland before it closes tonight."

One hour and fifteen minutes later, Barb and Chad were slumped morosely in their chairs, their ties loose, their jackets open. Marco glanced up from the papers he was signing and said,

"I know you did not stop to have breakfast. Now it is lunch time. Call downstairs and order some food to be sent up from the restaurant. If we are going to work late, you guys should have something to eat."

Barb paused with his hand on the phone. "Don't you want anything, Marco?"
The question brought an image of Vanessa, and Marco closed his eyes against the memory of her face. "No."

Barb called down to the restaurant and ordered sandwiches. When he hung up the phone, it rang again.

"Mr. Davinci’s assistant has retired home for today," Barb said, answering it him self. For a moment he was very still, a number of colorful emotions passing on and off his face,then he reached out and pressed the speaker button. 
Austin Parker’s pained voice filled the magnificently furnished lounge.

".. .need to know which bank do I transfer the money to."

"You don’t need to know what bank," Marco said curtly. "Deliver it to my auditors in Portland." He gave the names of the relevant official personnel and address of the office, then added, "Have them call me at this number when the check is in their hands and the list of assets you had to liquidate to get that kind of money."

The finely polished, carved out clock above them ticked away. Exactly forty-five minutes later, Francisco, his auditor in Portland called. When Marco put down the receiver he looked at Chad whose eyes were shining with undiluted excitement.

"How can you just sit there like a prim and proper china doll, Marco? You've just made forty-fucking-five million dollars."

Victor's smile was ironic. "Actually, he has just made over eighty million. I’m sure the dick will use the half that amount to buy off that prick Parker out of the stock market. Within a week he would actually be able to sell it for a double.”

“Oh, Parker Co. could be sold again by Davinci Public Limited Companies for roughly around sixty million-dollars.” Barb contributed once he was done furiously pounding over the calculator.

“I will take that sixty million and use it to construct another five-star hotel in California. Rest assured there would be investors willing to contribute a pretty penny for it. When I sell the building in nine months, I will get back the sixty million I originally invested, plus the untouched twenty-two million from the original amount I just received."

"Plus whatever profit you make on the hotel.'' Chad added, his eyes were twinkling in wonderment.


"Plus that too," Marco agreed flatly.

Victor was eagerly pulling on his suit coat. "Let's go out and celebrate little brother," he said, straightening his tie. “I can’t wait to see my wife and kid right now.”

"No, don’t be just a whipped jerkwad Victor! We’re going out, and calling it a combination of pre-award ceremony slash success party."
Chad whined

At that Marco's eyes turned enigmatic. "There is no need for a 'pre-award ceremony' party. I forgot to mention that I amnot flying out to Los Angeles tonight for the Governor’s Ball. My date... changed her mind."

Marco pulled open the large file drawer on his left, carefully avoiding the astonished looks he would surely see on his friends’ faces.

"Your. Date. Turned. You. Down. Shit, did I just say that correctly?" Victor questioned Marco, flabbergasted.

“No. We had a… disagreement.” Marco amended. If Victor looked unconvinced, he didn’t show it. Neither did Marco try to make a hefty effort to figure out what his older brother was thinking. He briefly looked up at the two other gentlemen who were still scrutinizing him as if he was as interesting as the tilting Tower of Pisa.

“Don’t you men have dates for tonight? If so why are you still here and staring at me like you just changed your preferences?” Marco addressed Barb and Chad, making their eyes widen.

“The answer would be in negative… I think.” Barb murmured under his breath thinking no one had heard him. However, when three questioning gazes swerved to a stop at him, he realized his blunder and cleared his throat. “I –I meant…”

“Oh for the love of God!” Chad blasted a beautiful curse again. “Stupid whipped assholes.”

A frenzy of clearing throats later Chad, Barb and Victor exited the lounge leaving Marco alone.

A short time later, Marco glanced up to see a young boy standing in front of his desk, holding three brown paper bags. "A certain Mitch Callaghan rung downstairs and ordered food, sir," he said, looking around in awe at the opulent room with twinkling eyes.

"Just leave them there," Marco nodded toward the small side table beside him and absently reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat. He took out his wallet and rifled through it looking for some bills to give to the boy as a tip. When he realized he didn’t have a twenty or even a fifty-dollar bill, he withdrew a hundred, and held it out for the boy making his eyes widen.

The smallest he had received were two cents once—two cents that he’d used to get him a slice of bread. He had never intended to part with them, and had folded them safely among the drapes of dark cloth he had once carried.

Sometimes you get the true value of things not when you lose them, but when you get a hold of them after such a lengthy time of wanting it.

“Sir –sir th-thank you s-so much!” Elated, the boy stammered. Something in teenager’s eyes reminded Marco of a time where nothing was flowers and games for him. He nodded with a smile at the boy. After a string of thank you’s the boy walked happily out of the room, practically bouncing on his way.

…

“…and basically he tried to make a move on her, but then her boyfriend stepped in and gave the jerk a well-deserved black eye,” she took a deep breath. “Well yeah, it wasn’t as if he didn’t deserve it! Of course he did! Why would he try to claim another man’s territory?”

Phoebe blabbed on and on like a broken record, and Vanessa hardly paid attention. Her replies just came off as distant ‘hmms’ and ‘ohs’ and ‘yeahs’

“So what’s up with you and Cory today?” Phoebe asked Vanessa the moment she joined her on the counter by her kitchen.

Memories of last night floated into her head as Vanessa remembered her ex-husband’s vivid emotions from sadness to despair to regret and then incredulity. The entire night had passed with her tossing and turning while she thought about the confusing words Mitch had said to her before leaving. After all, he had been the one who had walked out on them. He had been the one who had sent in the divorce papers. Why was he so flustered plus angered when she brought his actions back right before him?

“I think he was high on weed last night…” Vanessa responded absent-mindedly while tracing the tip of her index finger on the top of the coffee mug she had in hand, staring at the blue color wind chime that was swinging back and forth on her kitchen window.

“Okay… and…” Phoebe lent forward across the counter to peer into her face, her dark eyes assessing every movement she made. “You guys had hot steamy make-up sex?”

“No… he left after leaving me extremely con –Hey!” Vanessa lashed out of her rather lost state of mind when it occurred to her what she had been on the surge of saying. Her face was a shade of crimson beetroot when Phoebe raised her eyebrow at her disbelievingly.

“What was that all about?”

“N-nothing. What do you mean?”

Ting tong

The sound of the bell going off made Vanessa want to get down on her knees and cry out in joy. With an inner yeay she leapt off of the stool and practically skipped towards her door as if behind it was the first stray of light she’d ever feel on her skin after countless years of being in a shut off prison. She was still smiling gleefully when she reached forward to click open the door.

A second passed. Then two, then six and then fifteen. Slowly her smile started to curve downwards as she came across yet again the man who had walked out on her yesterday.

After a lengthy stare, she finally asked him.

“What are you doing here? Most importantly what do you want?”

Mitch stood there, before her as unmoving as ever. It was as if the man wasn’t even breathing. She didn’t know why he was here right now after yesterday’s encounter. She did not even know what was the reason behind his prolonged silence. The clattering of dishes from inside the apartment could be heard from where the two stood in complete pin drop quietness.

He wasn’t going to speak, she thought tiredly. And she definitely wasn’t up for a round of drama with Phoebe inside. So she slowly took three steps back, her clammy, sweaty palms gripping onto the door handle. She made a move shut the door on the man’s face but was surprised when his foot stuck through, making her unable to do so. Then slowly she watched four fingers clamor their way into the opening, forcing the door to open. She gave up and let the door open wide, revealing her to him once again.

A“What is it Mitch?” she asked more firmly, with her hands crossed across her chest. She watched closely as Mitch took a step forward, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, indicating his hefty gulp.

Mitch finally looked into her eyes and an old, buried emotion clawed itself out of her heart’s deep, dark pit.

“Van, will you go to the Governors Ball with me?”

a/n

A BIG THANK YOU TO redcape FOR THE AMAZING COVER! <3