Chapter 90
“Do you think he would be willing to sign the deal, boss?” Ben asked from the passenger seat as Melanie sat in the back, reading through the documents that she had prepared for Peter.
“I don’t know, Ben. I don’t even know why he has agreed to meet us and invited us there.” Melanie answered as she flipped a page in the file.
“Maybe he’s just curious?” Ben suggested hopefully. He still couldn’t believe Peter Berkus had agreed to meet them. The man was notoriously selective about who he entertained, and they weren’t exactly on friendly terms after the fiasco regarding plagiarism.
Melanie snorted softly. “Peter wouldn’t waste time on curiosity.”
Ben opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. He knew Melanie well enough to recognize when she was in no mood for idle chatter. Besides, she’d already warned him once not to disturb her, and judging by her focus on that file, she was serious.
Still, curiosity gnawed at him. What was she planning? Were those papers a list of incentives she intended to offer Peter? Or perhaps a detailed presentation to convince him to join forces back with LuxeArt?
Unable to shake his questions, Ben settled back into his seat, staring out the window. The countryside blurred past as they neared their destination. Melanie finally glanced at her watch and let out a weary sigh.
“At least we won’t be late,” she muttered.
Melanie had hoped to leave early that morning — enough time to check into their hotel, freshen up, and gather her thoughts before facing Peter. But things hadn’t gone to plan. Reporters had swarmed her just as she was about to leave the office, throwing questions at her like stones.
“Is it true LuxeArt is going bankrupt?” “Have you fired employees without paying their wages?” “Are you planning to sell the company?”
She’d spent the entire morning fending off their accusations — accusations based on rumors she hadn’t even had time to track down yet. By the time she’d escaped, her schedule had been wrecked, and now she was stuck heading straight to Peter’s house without so much as a moment to gather herself.
As the car slowed to a stop, Melanie frowned. This didn’t feel right.
“I thought you said we were meeting at Peter’s private home?” she asked as she looked outside the window.
“We are,” Ben confirmed, following her gaze. “That’s his place up ahead.”
Melanie’s frown deepened. The driveway was crowded with sleek, expensive cars — far too many for what was supposed to be a private meeting.
“Why are there so many people here?” she muttered.
“Maybe he’s hosting something?” Ben guessed, but even he didn’t sound convinced.
Melanie stepped out of the car, holding the leather case in her hand tightly, when the two guards stopped her at the door, eyeing them with suspicion.
“Name?” one of the guards barked, his clipboard in hand.
“Melanie Collins. From LuxeArt. I have a meeting with Peter Berkus.”
The guard flipped through the pages of his clipboard, frowning. “LuxeArt?” He shook his head. “Not on the list.”
As Melanie frowned, Ben cut in. “”That’s impossible. Peter Berkus invited us himself.”
“Mr Peter invited you? I don’t think so. But if you insist, show me the invite.” The guard’s lip curled, his tone mocking. “I’m guessing you don’t have it?”
Ben frowned as he shook his head,” We weren’t given an invite. I was told to come directly. I have a scheduled appointment.”
The guards exchanged a glance and snickered,” You should’ve brought an invite or a credible story. Maybe claim that you lost it on the way.”
Before Ben or Melanie could say anything, Melanie was suddenly pushed aside, and Madam Collins stepped forward and extended an invite,” Linda Collins from FineArt.”
Of course,” the guard said smoothly, stepping aside. “Please head inside.”
Madam Collins paused deliberately, turning her gaze to Melanie. A slow, smug smile curved her lips. “Oh,” she drawled sweetly. “Melanie you are here too? Why are you standing at the door? Did LuxeArt not get an invite?”
The guard, handed back the invite to Madam Collins and shook his head. “Nope. LuxeArt isn’t on the list.”
“Hmm,” Madam Collins hummed thoughtfully, tapped her chin with one manicured finger and sighed, “Actually it’s not so strange that you were not invited, Melanie. While LuxeArt was once a big name, now it is nothing more than a thrift store…So given your reputation these days, I suppose Peter must have thought better of it.”
Her pointed words were loud enough to catch the attention of some nearby guests lingering at the entrance and having sensed the drama. As expected the gossip started immediately,” LuxeArt? Aren’t they the ones cutting corners these days?” someone muttered.
“I heard they can’t even pay their staff and the cheap suppliers that they are usingt hese days,” another added.
“Didn’t they ditch Peter when he was being accused of copying designs a few years back?” a woman sneered.
“Yeah, and now they’re crawling back,” a man chuckled. “Pathetic.”
The comments grew louder, feeding off one another. Melanie felt her fingers tighten into fists at her sides but she forced herself to keep her expression blank.
“We should go,” Ben muttered under his breath as he heard the whispered words, feeling embarrassed. He had not expected that Peter would invite them for something like this. He felt like a failure…
As he would have stepped back, Melanie stopped him with a cold voice, “No. We’re not leaving. Call Peter.”
“But—”
“We’re not leaving, Ben. We did not come here uninvited and like hell I am going to run away like a dog with its tail tucked between his legs! Call him,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing at Madam Collins’ retreating back. “If Peter Berkus thinks he can embarrass me like this, he’s in for a surprise.”
Ben took a deep breath as he glanced at Melanie standing stiffly. Slowly, he gathered his courage and made the call, wondering if the man would answer or not.
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