"Do you think he would be willing to sign the deal, boss?" Ben asked from the passenger seat as lanie sat in the back, reading through the docunts that she had prepared for Peter.
"I don't know, Ben. I don't even know why he has agreed to et us and invited us there." lanie answered as she flipped a page in the file.
"Maybe he's just curious?" Ben suggested hopefully. He still couldn't believe Peter Berkus had agreed to et them. The man was notoriously selective about who he entertained, and they weren't exactly on friendly terms after the fiasco regarding plagiarism.
lanie snorted softly. "Peter wouldn't waste ti on curiosity."
Ben opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. He knew lanie well enough to recognize when she was in no mood for idle chatter. Besides, she'd already warned him once not to disturb her, and judging by her focus on that file, she was serious.
Still, curiosity gnawed at him. What was she planning? Were those papers a list of incentives she intended to offer Peter? Or perhaps a detailed presentation to convince him to join forces back with LuxeArt?
Unable to shake his questions, Ben settled back into his seat, staring out the window. The countryside blurred past as they neared their destination. lanie finally glanced at her watch and let out a weary sigh.
"At least we won't be late," she muttered.
lanie had hoped to leave early that morning — enough ti to check into their hotel, freshen up, and gather her thoughts before facing Peter. But things hadn't gone to plan. Reporters had sward her just as she was about to leave the office, throwing questions at her like stones.
"Is it true LuxeArt is going bankrupt?" "Have you fired employees without paying their wages?" "Are you planning to sell the company?"
She'd spent the entire morning fending off their accusations — accusations based on rumors she hadn't even had ti to track down yet. By the ti she'd escaped, her schedule had been wrecked, and now she was stuck heading straight to Peter's house without so much as a mont to gather herself.
As the car slowed to a stop, lanie frowned. This didn't feel right.
"I thought you said we were eting at Peter's private ho?" she asked as she looked outside the window.
"We are," Ben confird, following her gaze. "That's his place up ahead."
lanie's frown deepened. The driveway was crowded with sleek, expensive cars — far too many for what was supposed to be a private eting.
"Why are there so many people here?" she muttered.
"Maybe he's hosting sothing?" Ben guessed, but even he didn't sound convinced.
lanie stepped out of the car, holding the leather case in her hand tightly, when the two guards stopped her at the door, eyeing them with suspicion.
"Na?" one of the guards barked, his clipboard in hand.
"lanie Collins. From LuxeArt. I have a eting with Peter Berkus."
The guard flipped through the pages of his clipboard, frowning. "LuxeArt?" He shook his head. "Not on the list."
As lanie frowned, Ben cut in. ""That's impossible. Peter Berkus invited us himself."
"Mr Peter invited you? I don't think so. But if you insist, show the invite." The guard's lip curled, his tone mocking. "I'm guessing you don't have it?"
Ben frowned as he shook his head," We weren't given an invite. I was told to co directly. I have a scheduled appointnt."
The guards exchanged a glance and snickered," You should've brought an invite or a credible story. Maybe claim that you lost it on the way."
Before Ben or lanie could say anything, lanie was suddenly pushed aside, and Madam Collins stepped forward and extended an invite," Linda Collins from FineArt."
Of course," the guard said smoothly, stepping aside. "Please head inside."
Madam Collins paused deliberately, turning her gaze to lanie. A slow, smug smile curved her lips. "Oh," she drawled sweetly. "lanie you are here too? Why are you standing at the door? Did LuxeArt not get an invite?"
The guard, handed back the invite to Madam Collins and shook his head. "Nope. LuxeArt isn't on the list."
"Hmm," Madam Collins humd thoughtfully, tapped her chin with one manicured finger and sighed, "Actually it's not so strange that you were not invited, lanie. While LuxeArt was once a big na, now it is nothing more than a thrift store...So given your reputation these days, I suppose Peter must have thought better of it."
Her pointed words were loud enough to catch the attention of so nearby guests lingering at the entrance and having sensed the drama. As expected the gossip started imdiately," LuxeArt? Aren't they the ones cutting corners these days?" soone muttered.
"I heard they can't even pay their staff and the cheap suppliers that they are usingt hese days," another added.
"Didn't they ditch Peter when he was being accused of copying designs a few years back?" a woman sneered.
"Yeah, and now they're crawling back," a man chuckled. "Pathetic."
The comnts grew louder, feeding off one another. lanie felt her fingers tighten into fists at her sides but she forced herself to keep her expression blank.
"We should go," Ben muttered under his breath as he heard the whispered words, feeling embarrassed. He had not expected that Peter would invite them for sothing like this. He felt like a failure...
As he would have stepped back, lanie stopped him with a cold voice, "No. We're not leaving. Call Peter."
"But—"
"We're not leaving, Ben. We did not co here uninvited and like hell I am going to run away like a dog with its tail tucked between his legs! Call him," she repeated, her eyes narrowing at Madam Collins' retreating back. "If Peter Berkus thinks he can embarrass like this, he's in for a surprise."
Ben took a deep breath as he glanced at lanie standing stiffly. Slowly, he gathered his courage and made the call, wondering if the man would answer or not.
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