The Vixen In His Chair

CHAPTER 8

(The Vixen In His Chair)

The mahogany table gleamed beneath the low lights, polished so perfectly it could have been a mirror.

William sat at the head of it, his presence commanding, without him having to utter a single word.  

The board members of Fairchild Enterprises… men and women twice his age in tailored suits, shifted uneasily under the sharp edge of his gaze.

On the projector, financial figures rolled across the screen.

“Real estate demand in the downtown district is rising by twelve percent,” Ryan, his personal assistant, read crisply.

“But the competition has doubled. Three firms are aggressively buying out smaller developers.”

William leaned back in his chair, dark eyes narrowing. “And yet, none of them have the leverage we do. 

While they chase scraps, Fairchild Enterprises controls the skyline. The moment they buy a plot, we've already secured the zoning permits next door.”

A low murmur of agreement rippled around the table.

Ryan, sharp as ever, slid a file toward William.

“The new Lancaster district towers construction begins next quarter. If we fast-track approval, Fairchild will own the tallest residential high-rises in the city.”

William's mouth curved faintly, not quite a smile… more of a warning. “Fast-track it, then. I want ground broken before the year ends.”

Ryan nodded immediately, already making notes. “I'll arrange the approvals, sir.”

The board members exchanged glances… some impressed, others terrified.. but no one dared speak against him.

Finally, the chairman of the board, a man nearly old enough to be William's grandfather, shifted in his chair. “You're a hard man to argue with, William. The company is in capable hands.”

********

Minutes later, the meeting adjourned, chair scraping as executives rose, buttoning jackets, voices hushed with respect.

“Congratulations, Mr. Fairchild,” one of the older board members said, his time carefully warm. “On your marriage. The family alliance will strengthen the company.”

“Indeed,” another added, offering a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “A Lancaster bride. Quite the match.”

William's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He nodded curtly, nothing more, and dismissed them with a flick of his hand.

The men and women filed out quickly, leaving the conference room thick with silence.

Ryan approached, tablet in hand, his posture as rigid as always. “That went well, sir. You've already gained the board's confidence after yesterday's… event.”

William said nothing. He didn't need to. Ryan's efficiency was something he valued… facts, precision, results. Nothing more.

“Your office is ready for you.” Ryan handed him another file. “I'll be outside if you need me.”

William strode down the marble hall, every step measured, sharp. He opened the door to his office… only to stop short.

Someone was already there.

A woman lounged casually in his chair, legs crossed, manicured nails drumming lazily against the armrest. 

The late afternoon light cut across her sleek silhouette… dark hair, lips painted the color of ripe wine, eyes sharp as glass. 

She looked at home in his seat, like she'd claimed it long before he walked in.

“Selene.”

Her name dropped from his lips like a blade.

She smiled, slow and feline. “William.”

“Get out of my chair.” His voice was low, lethal, brooking no argument.

She rose with deliberate slowness, the click of her heels echoing across the office. “Still territorial, I see.” 

She smoothed an invisible crease from her dress, the silk clinging perfectly to her curves. “That is one thing I've always liked about you, William. And I missed this office. I missed you.”

“Then your memory is faulty,” William said, tossing his briefcase onto the desk. “Because I don't recall missing you.”

The smile faltered, just briefly, before she caught it. She moved closer, her perfume curling through the air, warm and intoxicating.”I heard you got married.”

“You heard right.”

“And you didn't think to tell me? Or even give me an invitation?” Her voice lilted with feigned sweetness, but the underlying bite was sharp.

William's lips twisted into something dangerous. “Why would I do that? I don't send wedding invitations to my past mistakes.”

The word struck clean and hard. 

Selene's throat bobbed, but she swallowed her pride with grace. Her eyes narrowed, a glint of fire breaking through the poise.

“Well,” she said lightly, though the venom seeped through, “you certainly put on a show. That wedding dress your wife wore…” 

She let out a soft, mocking laugh. “It looked less like bridal elegance and more like a morbid piece of theater. Bloodstains patterns on lace… bold, I'll give her that. 

Although some might call it grotesque… I, on the other hand, choose to believe that she was trying to haunt you before the vows were even finished.”

The insult was thinly veiled, wrapped in a velvet glove.

William didn't flinch. His gaze locked onto hers, cold and unyielding. “Careful Selene. My tolerance for gossip and insults is thinner than that silk you're wearing. And you won't like what happens when it tears.”

She tilted her chin defiantly, but her smile never fully recovered.

“Leave,” he said, voice clipped.

She blinked, surprised at the finality. “That's it? No conversation, no reminiscing?”

“Get. Out.”

The steel in his tone left no room for argument.

Before she could respond, the door opened. Ryan stepped in, phone in hand, his usually composed face tight with urgency.

“Sir,” he said, ignoring Selene completely. “You need to see this.” 

He crossed the room swiftly, setting the phone on William's desk. A news broadcast played silently, the reporter's lips moving beneath the scrolling headline.

“HEIRESS LAUREN LANCASTER FOUND DEAD – APPARENT SUICIDE.”

The photo of Lauren's smiling face filled the screen.

The silence in the room was absolute.

Selene broke it with a low, breathless laugh of disbelief. “Lauren Lancaster? Isn't that—” Her eyes flicker to William, wide with mock-innocence but gleaming with something far more poisonous. “Isn't that your wife? She's killed herself already?” 

Ryan's head snapped toward her, scandal flashing across his usually expressionless face.

But William… William didn't move. His expression was unreadable stone, the kind that made men twice his size hesitate to breathe in his presence.

Finally he spoke. His voice was quiet, but it cracked through the room like thunder.

“My wife,” he said, each word measured, razor-sharp, “is still very much alive.” 

Selene's smirk faltered, confusion flickering. Ryan froze, eyes darting between the headline and his employer.

“What do you mean? Everyone has been saying you were married to a Lancaster—”

William leaned back in his chair.

“That is correct. But I don't remember saying, it was Lauren.”

Selene's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Her curiosity was sharp.

“Wait, are you trying to say that you weren't married to Lauren? If so, doesn't it upset you? Doesn't it drive you mad, you married the wrong bride?”

William's lips curved, but the smile was all ice.

“Wrong bride?” His voice dropped, smooth and controlled, every syllable precise.

“You misjudge me, Selene. I don't make mistakes and neither do I marry by accident. Anna Lancaster is my wife now. And everyone must come to learn and accept that. Starting with you.”

Selene's eyes twitched slightly in irritation.

“I heard that she's the Lancaster's greatest disgrace, that Anna girl. A shameful scandal on two left legs.” she spat. 

“Aren't you the least bit bothered that people are going to talk?” 

William's voice dropped, silken and merciless.

“Let them talk. If they think Anna is a scandal. Soon they'll understand… She's a Fairchild now. And Fairchilds don't break.. They destroy.”

Selene's eyes flickered, but before she could press further, William's phone buzzed against the desk. 

Then Ryan leaned in to murmur something in his ear.

William nodded once.

“Clear my schedule,” he told Ryan without looking at Selene. “And shut the doors. This conversation is over.”

The dismissal was final. Selene lingered for a heartbeat, biting back the sting, but when she turned to leave, William's voice followed, low and dangerous.

“One last thing, Selene…. never come to my office or sit in my chair without a good enough reason. I won't be so polite and merciful next time.” 

She froze, then left, her heels going down the corridor.

And William, sitting on his chair, looked out to the skyline. Calm. Collected.

One thought in his head.

They think I married the wrong sister. They'll learn soon enough… There is no wrong sister. Only the wife I choose to make mine.