Chapter 2

Ross’s POV

I do not believe in things I couldn't see. Ghosts. Miracles. Fate. The unknown.

Everything was known. Everything was calculated, thought and planned by minds greater than you, which is why your mind had to be trained to just be like them.

My mind was trained.

Ross Ginattoni. Young. Rich. Sexy. Billionaire.

And the woman that made me all this, dead and gone.

So began the long fleeting line of women in and out my door. My mother, a

The poor woman, of course, hated it.

“You should move on, Son. She would have wanted you to be happy.”

Yes she would have, because she was my ray of sun.

The tabloids loved me, wives wanted to be with me, husbands wanted to drink with me but assistants though?

That was a different story.

“You are fired,” I said, losing my tie as I sat down in my Bugatti. My latest assistant, let's call her Rebekah thirteen, was some doe eyed, trembling lips woman that seemed to jump at every instruction, and still manage to fuck it up.

“Mr. Ginattoni—”

“Do you have any excuses for why I was caught off guard at La Ritz by Heather?” I narrowed my eyes.

“No sir,” she answered. “I had no idea she would be there.”

“Well, that is why I hired you, isn't it? To be my eyes and ears? My spy? To make sure that wherever I go, you have vetted everyone there?”

“She came in through—”

“What about Thursday then? Your very first day of work. You were late. Because you were late, I was late.”

Technically, I was in the famous strip club downtown. It was my favorite place to be when I was not working, watching women dance and grind their bodies on poles. It was quite discreet, a place only for the finest gentlemen, but when it wanted publicity, I have been a victim of one or two of the owners' stunts.

Still, it was her fault.

“I tried reaching out to you,” she was practically crying now. “Please give me another chance, I swear.”

I closed my eyes. This was usually the hardest part. She made it through Sunday, and she wanted another chance.

“You are fired.”

This decision cost me two things I never saw coming.

Firstly, my mother called me, after getting the news from Rebekah, that snitch, I had terminated another assistant. It was a pity I couldn't fire her too.

“Mother, I promise you, I can hear you. The entire upstate can hear you.”

“Well then listen to me,” my mother screamed back. Daniel, my driver , held the door open from me as I stepped in front of one of my buildings.

“I did as you liked, I am here for the interview,” I groaned. “Can I not just have peace?”

“No, Ross,” came my mother's sharp reply. “You have not decided yet, what are you going to do?”

This brought me to my second dilemma. I was once married. Once, when I was young, foolish and in love.

Till an accident took the life of the only woman I ever loved. Two years had passed, but it was not easy to move on.

The board of directors of my father's company did not feel the same way I did. They needed a strong leader, a man that was moral, with a family. A ground man.

I was not a family man.

Which brought in Heather Manning. Daughter of my father's oldest friend, Dean Manning. He made his money in construction, building houses that overlooked the sea and made a fortune from it. His daughter was a perfect match.

“The board of directors cannot do anything to my mother, I am the chairman now.”

My mother let out a deep sigh. “There is something you need to know, Ross. Your father, God rest his soul, was a craft, wild man.”

I knew that. I learnt all I knew from him. Yes, he may have started the Ginattoni banks, but I was the one that made it global.

“One of his stipulations was that if you turned thirty and you were not married by then, you would have to step down, as chairperson.”

My father died last year. “You knew this,” I hissed.

“I am so sorry, I told him it was wrong but he was insistent on it. I am so—”

I hung up the phone. How dare they do this to me, force marriage on me? I was perfectly fine with how I was, and I worked hard to be chairman.

Now, he wanted to take it away from me.

Everyone scurried out of my path as I stormed upstairs. The elevator doors opened, and luckily for Rebekah she was in her seat today.

“Mr. Ginattoni,” she greeted, standing up. “I was shocked when your mother said you would be conducting interviews yourself.”

“No you weren't you snitch,” I hissed, dropping my brief case on her table. “You knew what you were doing.”

“Well, I think you should pick your own assistants now, that way, I don't feel guilty when women storm out of here with their heads between their legs okay?” Her lips were stretched in a smile.

“Have you done what I asked you to do?”

“Yes I sir,” she replied. Straightening her back, she smiled, her voice higher. “Please can we go this way?”

I turned, about to follow her when my eyes cut across the room.

No way. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. This was not real.

I did not believe in miracles. My hand began to itch, my breath short as I stared at her. There was no way what I was seeing was real, yet there had to be only one explanation.

“Cancel every other person’s interview,” I managed to push the words out, my voice rougher than before. “All except hers.”

The woman’s mouth dropped open in shock, as I stormed into my office, slamming the door behind me. I needed to catch my breath to understand what exactly I had just seen.

My dead wife was sitting down, smiling at me.