Three gasps followed as the wine hit his flawless face, his company in disbelief of my uncivilized act. The wine slid down his handsome features in slow, serpentine patterns tracing the sharp angle of his jaw and soaking into his pristine shirt. The red liquid spread across the fabric in an amoeba-like shape. I could see the top of a tattoo on his robust chest, exposed by the open collar, his tanned skin glistened as the wine dripped onto his heaving torso.

Saying he was livid would be an understatement. His frown deepened and fists clenched so tightly I could see the whites of his knuckles. Before I knew it, his tall imposing frame barely towered over my five-foot-eight height, and I'm quick to perceive the three inch height difference.

Five if I took off my Louboutins.

For a fraction of a second I felt intimidated under his gaze as it pierced through my confident stance. Nevertheless, I squared my shoulders and mirrored his glare.

"What was that for?" His voice is deeper, the English accent even stronger, as he speaks.

"That was for calling us incompetent." My voice is steady and unwavering. I stared at him determined to put my points forward, refusing to blink.

"I guarantee you will regret crossing paths with me Mr. Conrad. We are anything but amateur and emotional. We are also so much more capable and insightful than your little designers."

"What are you talking about?" He takes a threatening step forward leaving a hairline gap between our faces, our noses almost touching. Tension filled the air and I instantly smell the vinous aroma on his shirt mixed with his own potent cologne. I could tell it was one of those scents that had advertisements with the hot girl falling for the guy.

Physically, I wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms and play the damsel in distress. Mentally, he was giving me a migraine- the man had the audacity to play dumb after insulting me, my best friend and my business. I wasn't going to back down. Not now, not ever. If he thinks he can walk all over me just because I was a woman then he's in for a rude awakening.

This was a battle and I intended to win.

"My team and I spent weeks designing fabric according to your interests." I poke my finger into his hard chest signifying my vexation. "You've got some balls to say our work isn't up to par."

"I'll have you know my threshold for bullshit is very low." His voice is alarmingly low and commanding.

"As is mine for disrespect." I take out the envelope I had pocketed earlier and fling it onto the table, the bills spilling out.

"Your wealth doesn't give you the right to take people for granted. It also doesn't capacitate you to ridicule Leah or me by labeling us call girls."

He opened his mouth to speak, probably to say something in his defense, but before he can utter a word, I rose my hand silencing him.

"Men like you disgust me Mr. Conrad. I'll
have you know, the next time you try something like this, you won't live to see another day. That's a promise." I mentally gave myself a pat on the back for successfully getting the words out of my mouth.

Wanting to leave the situation with the last word, I turned on my heels and flipped my blow dried hair without wasting another second.

It was only after I turned around that I noticed the dazed and gaping crowd gathered around us, the unwitting audience to my bold display. I saw about half a dozen men in black suits amongst the assembled waiters and waitresses, their eyes tracked every move I made. They seemed to be bodyguards and their presence added unanticipated weight to the situation.

Was I going to get arrested?

Technically I did harass a man, damage property and waste what definitely was a very expensive glass of wine.

I decide to test the waters by retracing the path back to the entrance where my best friend awaited my arrival. I hold my head high as I walk out of the restaurant, proud of my valorous deed.

I groaned almost immediately as the hot sun hit me again. My arm instinctively shot up in defense but the relentless the heat still managed to engulfed my entire being.

Once I recover from the blinding sunlight, I see Leah furiously typing on her phone. Her fingers flew over the screen while her foot tapped impatiently on the marble tiles and she rolled her eyes as if the world itself had somehow wronged her.

"Let's go." I said as I approached Kline, who was now holding an ice pack to his crotch. Oops. I winced inwardly at the sight and quickly collected my license, trying to keep a straight face as I did. I felt bad for the poor guy. 

"Can't wait." She muttered, eager to leave the place. She snapped her phone shut with one last decisive tap and handed me my purse. "What did you do?" She asked curiously linking her arm in mine as we walked towards our cars in the parking lot.

"Nothing," I replied innocently, though the sly smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. "But he might've spilled some wine on himself while we were talking."

Leah's eyes widened in disbelief as I confessed, and then a laugh escaped her, the sound contagious. "You did not!" she exclaimed, shaking her head in amusement.

"Did too," I confirmed, my grin widening. "You should've seen his face." His perfect, handsome face.

We both burst into laughter, our voices echoing across the parking lot as we replayed the moment in our minds. The sun might have been unbearable, but the memory of his shocked expression made it all worth it.

I arrived at my boutique, Glaze, in about twenty minutes, feeling a sense of relief as I walked down the familiar street. The storefront came into view, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of the display window, now showcasing designs from my new collection. The delicate lace, flowing fabrics, and intricate details perfectly captured the essence of the upcoming season, and I was proud of the work we had put into curating this summer collection.

As I pushed open the glass doors, a soft chiming welcomed me, a sound I had come to associate with the warmth and comfort of my boutique. The familiar scent of lavender and vanilla, a blend we always kept in the store, greeted me like an old friend. It was a haven for me, a place where creativity thrived and where I could forget the stresses of the outside world, even if just for a little while.

"That was fast," I heard Pattie's voice call out from behind a rack of florals. She was busy setting up the new displays for the day, carefully arranging each piece with her usual precision. We still had about half an hour before the store officially opened, but she liked to get everything just right before the first customers arrived. I rolled my eyes playfully, knowing she was referring to my early return from the meeting I had been dreading all week.

"He was a complete douche," I said with a sigh, the memory of the bittersweet encounter surfacing in my mind. I dropped my bag onto the cream-colored couch against the wall, a spot where we often sat to discuss the day's plans or to share the weekly dose of gossip.

Pattie's fiery red hair popped up from behind the rack where she was working, her expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity. Her shirt, slightly oversized and comfortable, peeked out from behind the rows of sundresses she was arranging. Adjusting her frameless glasses, she stepped around the display with an empty cardboard box in hand.

"You're kidding me, right?" she asked, her voice laced with both concern and disappointment. I could tell she was hoping I was exaggerating, but unfortunately, I wasn't. After investing so much time and energy into this project, it was a bitter pill to swallow to see our efforts dismissed so casually.

"Nope," Leah's voice chimed in as she entered the store, the familiar sound of the doorbell accompanying her arrival. She walked in with her usual confidence and crossed the room, her expression serious as she joined the conversation. "He was the epitome of misogyny," she added, drawing an imaginary line in the air with her hand to emphasize her point.

Pattie shook her head in disbelief. "Oh, come on. It probably wasn't that bad," she said, still clinging to a thread of hope. "There must've been something that went right."

I met her gaze, my expression unyielding. "He called us call girls," I stated bluntly, the words hanging in the air between us. As I walked past the biscuit-colored walls adorned with pictures of the three of us and some of our notable clients, I could see the shock on Pattie's face. The memories captured in those photos were a testament to our hard work and the bond we had formed over the past five months since opening Glaze. The boutique had grown faster than any of us had anticipated, and though it was just the three of us for now, we knew we would need to expand our team soon to manage the increasing demand.

Pattie's eyes widened in horror. "He did not!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief.

"Oh, he did, honey," Leah confirmed with a smirk, her tone carrying a hint of satisfaction. "But Thea made sure he learned his lesson." I couldn't help but chuckle quietly as Leah began recounting the events of the meeting. As she explained how I had put the man in his place, Pattie's reactions ranged from shock to amusement, her expressions mirroring the rollercoaster of emotions we had all experienced this morning.

Despite the setback, there was a sense of camaraderie between us that made everything feel a little bit easier to bear. We had built something special here, something worth fighting for, and I knew that together, we could overcome whatever challenges came our way.

My mind is still full of his sightly features when the desk phone rings. I quickly glanced at the clock, the matte black hands reading forty minutes past nine against the sleek, tempered glass.

Someone was early.

Curious, I answered the phone with the usual pleasantries.

"Good morning. This is Glaze and I'm Thea. How may I help you today?"

"Thea darling, this is Skye Maxwell." My heart skipped a beat as I heard the woman speak.

Skye Maxwell. The name was synonymous with luxury, power and influence. Her story was an inspiration to all. She was married to one of the richest men in the country and her loyalty towards her business was absolute. More importantly, she was the female head of the most influential mafia families that ruled the city.

"I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time?"

"Not at all Mrs. Maxwell. It's a pleasure to hear from you." I try to contain my elation, wary of spooking her.

"Please, just call me Skye, darling. There's no need for such formalities. My assistant just showed me some of your pieces, and I must say, I'm impressed. The colors for the summer collection are simply brilliant."

"Really?!" My voice shot up with excitement.

"Yes, darling," she chuckled softly. "Daniel and I are celebrating thirty years of marriage, and I need something truly exquisite for the event."

I couldn't contain myself—I started jumping around the office, phone clutched in my hand.

"I'm afraid I can't discuss the details right now, but I'll stop by the boutique tomorrow morning. How does ten o'clock sound?"

"Perfect! I'll see you then, Mrs. Maxwell."

"Skye, darling. Ciao."

END OF CHAPTER TWO: A CRIMSON COMPROMISE
2022 words

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