Chapter 7- A New Friend

The morning after the gala, Genevieve woke up and spent minutes replaying the way Dominic Rourke’s eyes had cut across the ballroom, catching hers for that single second; she also kept replaying the compliment he had given her.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Delilah entered, immaculate as always. Her sleek black coat had no wrinkle, and her hair was packed in a perfect chignon. 

“You made an impression last night,” Delilah said, placing her leather-bound folder on the table. “Though fleeting, it was enough. Dominic noticed you. That is more than the others ever achieved.”

Genevieve sat up straighter on her bed, her silk robe falling around her in soft folds. “Noticing isn’t enough, is it? I still have a lot to do.”

Delilah’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Proximity is power. You must keep circling him until he lets you in. Luckily, fate or rather, the Club has given you the perfect excuse.” She opened her folder, sliding a document toward Genevieve. “I am here to remind you about your appointment this afternoon at Halcyon Hotel."

Genevieve’s fingers tightened on the paper. “Will Dominic be there?”

Delilah tilted her head. “Halcyon is his playground. He designed every inch, down to the hidden security feeds in the walls, so even if you don’t see him, he’ll see you.”

The thought made Genevieve’s stomach tighten. She nodded, more to herself than Delilah. “Then I’ll make sure he sees what he needs to.”

---

Halcyon Hotel towered over the city as usual. When Genevieve’s car pulled into the driveway, her pulse quickened. The Halcyon wasn’t just a hotel; it was a statement of dominance. Inside, the marble floors gleamed, and gilded chandeliers spilled golden light across the floor and walls. Every inch of it whispered power, control, dominance, and perfection. It was, unmistakably, Dominic Rourke’s world.

She was escorted to a conference room where Dominic's assistant was waiting for her.

"Good day, Mrs. Holloway, I am Benedict, Mr. Dominic's assistant. He won't be joining us today because he has some urgent issues to attend to, so he sent me to represent him in today's meeting." Benedict stated the moment Genevieve stepped into the room.

Genevieve nodded slightly with a faint smile. "Yes, I remember you."

Benedict gestured for her to sit. "I'll be taking the details of the security protocol you finally chose." He picked up the iPad on the table, ready to note down everything Genevieve was going to say.

The next thirty minutes must be spent by Genevieve stating everything she wanted and Benedict noting down everything she was saying, and they both making adjustments to some details that she did not like. Genevieve hoped that Dominic would show up during the meeting, but that never happened.

The meeting ended. Genevieve rose, stepped into the hallway, and took one last look at it hoping to see Dominic  before heading toward the exit.

That was when it happened.

She turned a corner too quickly and collided with something small and solid. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she looked down and froze.

It was a child.

The girl looked like she wasn't more than five; she had long dark hair, and she wore a cream dress, her eyes a piercing blue that felt unnervingly familiar. She was delicate, but there was a look she had in her eyes; it was the same look Genevieve had seen in Dominic’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” Genevieve murmured, squatting to examine the child to be sure she had not injured her.

The child studied her. “You weren’t looking.”

A dry laugh almost escaped Genevieve, but she held it back. “You’re right. I wasn’t. Are you alright?”

The girl nodded her head gently, then extended her right hand with confidence that Genevive wasn't expecting. “Olandria Rourke.”

Genevieve’s blood went cold. The name hit her like a slap. This was the daughter she had only read about in the file she received from Celeste. The daughter Dominic guarded as fiercely as he guarded his empire.

She took the child’s extended hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Olandria. My name is Genevieve Holloway.”

The little girl tilted her head slightly, studying her face with an intensity that nobody would expect a child to have. “Most people just call me Olly, so you can call me Olly.” 

"Olly, we could be friends." Genevieve brought out her card from her purse. "Feel free to call me if you ever need a friend to play with." Genevieve said, smiling.

Olandria collected the card from her hand reluctantly.  “Daddy doesn’t like new people.” She stated with a frown.

The words, spoken so innocently, sliced deep into Genevieve like a threat. She swallowed, her voice steady. “Then maybe I’ll just have to earn his trust.”

Before Olandria could reply, a woman in a crisp black and white uniform hurried over, her expression tight with alarm. “Miss Rourke, there you are!” She gave Genevieve a polite but guarded look, taking the child’s hand firmly. “Your father is waiting.”

As they walked away, Olandria glanced back over her shoulder. For the briefest second, Genevieve could swear there was something knowing in her gaze, as though the child had already weighed her and found her wanting.

That night, Genevieve sat at her desk with files from the Halcyon spread before her. The numbers and terms blurred together until one detail caught her eye: a financial statement listing donations made through a Halcyon charity fund. One donor name made her breath hitch- Charles Holloway.

She stared at the name. Charles had funneled money through Dominic’s empire. But why? To hide it? To fund something illicit? Or had they been business partners in some shadowy arrangement she was only beginning to have a glimpse of?

Her hands trembled as she closed the folder.

The sound of her encrypted phone pulled her from her thoughts. The message was from Harper. A simple but elegant invitation: Tea, tomorrow. We need to talk.

---

The following afternoon, Genevieve found herself seated across from Harper in a private tearoom, the kind with porcelain teapots and tables covered in lace drapes. Harper looked beautiful as always in a brown gown, her smile gracious but her eyes sharp.

“You’re doing well,” Harper said smoothly, pouring tea into Genevieve’s cup. “But a word of advice: don’t trust Celeste too easily. She doesn’t reveal the whole truth. She never does.”

Genevieve stirred her tea, trying to mask the effect Harper’s words had on her. “You’re saying she’s using me?”

“I’m saying,” Harper replied, leaning closer, “that the Club always has two games running. The one they tell you and the one they don’t.”

"I see. So why are you telling me this? It didn't seem like you liked me the first time we met." Genevieve sipped her tea, ensuring not to break eye contact with Harper.

"Consider this as an advice from a friend," Harper said with a smile.

A chuckle escaped Genevieve's mouth. "There are no friends in the world we belong to. Thank you for the advice though; I will definitely keep it in mind." She said while standing, she adjusted her well-pleated red skirt and headed out of the tearoom.

Immediately after Genevieve left, Harper picked up her phone and made a phone call. 

"She is a hard nut to crack." Harper said to the person on the other end of the line.

"Every hard nut will end up getting cracked one day." The person responded.