Chapter 3

Zyran's Point Of View:

Dexter Perez had requested the meeting himself.

That alone was enough to make me curious.

The man and I had competed in the fashion industry for years. We fought for the same clients, attended the same events, and competed for the same distribution deals. We weren't friends, but we understood each other well enough to know when the other wanted something.

And Dexter wanted something.

I glanced through the proposal resting on my lap as my car approached the gates of the Perez mansion.

"Do you think he'll accept your terms?" my assistant asked from across the seat.

"If he wants the deal badly enough."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then I've wasted an evening."

My assistant chuckled. I closed the file as the gates opened.

Dexter was already waiting outside when I stepped out of the car.

"Zyran."

"Dexter."

We shook hands.

"I'm glad you came," he said.

"You invited me."

His smile tightened slightly before he stepped aside to let me in.

I followed him through the entrance, but we hadn't gone far when I noticed a woman standing near the staircase.

She wore a red dress, and her eyes were swollen from crying. She looked exhausted.

Dexter noticed me looking.

"Mabel," he called.

She raised her head.

"Go upstairs and freshen up. We'll be discussing business."

She didn't move immediately.

"Mabel." His voice hardened. "Now."

She turned and walked upstairs without another word.

I watched her disappear around the corner before looking back at him.

"Everything alright?"

"Family matters." He adjusted his cuff. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"Good. I didn't come here for family matters."

His smile returned, and he led me to the dining area.

A few minutes later, we were seated across from each other, the proposal spread across the table between us.

Dexter wanted to expand Dee Fashion House into three new markets. He was offering a partnership with Z Stitches, my company, particularly in production and distribution.

I'd read the proposal on my way here. The numbers weren't terrible, but his expectations were too ambitious for the resources he was offering.

"Your production timeline is unrealistic," I said, placing the document on the table. "Three markets at once will stretch your quality control."

"We've already accounted for that."

"Then account for it again."

His jaw tightened.

I turned another page.

"You're also expecting access to distribution channels that aren't included in this agreement."

"We can negotiate those separately."

"Or you can present a proposal that makes sense the first time."

Dexter leaned back in his chair, clearly unhappy with my response.

Before he could answer, the woman from earlier returned.

"Mabel," he said, gesturing toward the empty chairs. "Sit down."

She chose a seat near the end of the table.

I returned to the proposal, but Dexter seemed more interested in getting the meeting over with than discussing the details. After another few minutes of going back and forth over the figures, he poured himself a drink.

"Have you heard about the Creed family?" he asked.

I barely looked up. "What about them?"

"They're searching for their missing heiress."

That got a little more of my attention.

The Creed family owned Creed Fashion Network, one of the largest fashion distribution empires in the world. Their business interests stretched across several countries, and their influence in the industry was difficult to ignore.

Their missing heiress, however, wasn't something I'd spent much time thinking about.

"I thought that matter was settled years ago," I said.

"So did most people. Apparently, they've started looking again."

"Why?"

"Family, I suppose. The company needs an heir, and the family wants its daughter back."

I turned a page in the proposal.

"Then they should hire better investigators."

Dexter laughed.

"You're not curious?"

"About someone else's family problems? Not particularly."

"What if her return changes the industry?"

"Then I'll deal with it when it happens."

I wasn't interested in speculating about an heiress whose existence had no bearing on my business. If the Creed family found her tomorrow and decided to turn the entire industry upside down, I'd adjust accordingly.

Until then, I had more important things to worry about.

Dexter took another sip of his drink.

"Apparently, the family is offering a substantial reward for information. They've been contacting people who might know something about her disappearance."

"Then I hope they find her."

My response seemed to disappoint him.

He'd probably expected me to ask questions or offer to help. Unfortunately for him, I had no interest in involving myself in a family search.

I returned to the proposal.

Beside me, Mabel had been quiet throughout the conversation. When I asked Dexter about a discrepancy in the production figures, she glanced at the document before speaking.

"The projected costs don't include the additional storage expenses for the third market."

I looked at her.

She pointed to the relevant section.

"If the shipments are delayed, they'll need somewhere to keep the inventory. That could push the expenses beyond the amount you've budgeted."

I checked the figures again.

She was right.

I looked at Dexter. "You should revise this section."

His expression changed.

"She's not involved in the business."

"That doesn't make her wrong."

Mabel lowered her eyes, and Dexter set his glass down harder than necessary.

I wasn't interested in whatever disagreement they had going on, but I wasn't going to ignore a valid observation just because he didn't want his wife contributing to the discussion.

"Have your team review the storage and distribution costs," I told him. "Once you've corrected the figures, send me the revised proposal."

Dexter gathered the documents.

"I was hoping we'd reach an agreement tonight."

"So was I. Unfortunately, your proposal isn't ready."

He forced a smile. "I'll have it revised."

"Good."

The meeting was over.

I stood and adjusted my jacket while my assistant collected the remaining documents. Mabel rose from her chair too, but Dexter was already heading toward the staircase, speaking to someone on his phone.

She remained beside the table.

"Goodnight, Mabel," I said.

She looked at me. "Goodnight, Zyran."

I nodded and followed my assistant outside.

The drive back to my office was quiet until he spoke.

"There's something else you should know."

I glanced at him. "What?"

He handed me a separate file.

"Someone has been attempting to access private buyer channels through Dee Fashion House. The activity was flagged this afternoon."

I opened the file and scanned the report.

The access attempts had been made through accounts linked to Dexter's company.

"Has anyone confirmed who's responsible?"

"Not yet. But the records point toward his network."

I closed the file.

"Find out exactly what he's doing."

"Understood."

I leaned back against the seat and looked out at the passing lights.

Dexter had invited me to discuss a business partnership, brought up the Creed family's missing heiress, and presented a proposal that didn't add up.

Now there was suspicious activity connected to his company.

He was either making a series of poor decisions or hiding something.

Neither possibility inspired confidence.

"Cancel my first meeting tomorrow," I told my assistant. "I want a full report on Dee Fashion House before we proceed with anything."

He made a note on his tablet.

"And the Creed heiress?"

I glanced at him.

"What about her?"

"Should we look into the search?"

"No."

I returned my attention to the window.

"The Creed family can find their own daughter.”