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It was pouring hard when Matthew drove to the office the following morning; the sound of the rain pelting on the windshield was irksome to his ears. Usually, he enjoyed it, but it was different this time. He wanted to think about the evening dinner party, the one he didn't want to attend but had to since some government officials would be present. His team was repeatedly advising him to fraternize more with them because he was planning on buying a network and wanted licenses to be issued without much fuss, like bringing up last year's incident where the senate summoned him to answer whether his company had been responsible for sharing, or selling his user's details to a foreign country resulting in numerous ads bombarding users or raising the fact that he had been a person of interest the same year in regards to a Mexican drug lord.
While he answered the first allegation confidently, the second was a little bit complicated. But he got away with it because even though his jet was seen, it wasn't found in the area the drug lord was said to have been at the time, and therefore no proof. But he had confirmed that he had given it to Romano Bellucci—a New York and Italian businessman, which the authorities had established to be the truth.
But he couldn't concentrate on what mattered because he was thinking about what would happen after the party. His after-party, so to speak. Matthew wanted to see Capri again; maybe she wasn't as captivating as she had been the first time, perhaps the image he had of her was just a mirage his imagination had created, an exaggeration of how alluring she had been.
Matthew drove through his company's gate, parking in his assigned space, his jaguar in the middle of two of his security detail's cars, both black Mercedes-Benz. Before he could open the door, Pete—his main bodyguard, stood holding an umbrella over Matthew's head.
"You know I could scurry to the entrance; it's right there, " Matthew pointed out to Pete, taking the umbrella from his hands.
"You pay me to protect you, sir."
"Not from the rain, I don't." Pete chuckled and said, yes, the rain was part of the package. Without arguing, Matthew harried to the entrancing, turned, and shook the rain off, but before he could fold it, Isaac—his personal assistant, took it from his hands.
"What is wrong with people around here thinking I can't do simple tasks?" Matthew snapped, releasing the umbrella from his hands; Isaac apologized, following him with a notebook in the other hand.
"Good morning, Mr. Ocean, " the reception greeted him, throwing a suggestive smile at him, a pen between two of her fingers; her long nails painted red drew his attention for a second while he waited for his private elevator door to open. As attractive as she was, there was no way in hell Matthew would ever get involved with any of his employees.
Entering the elevator with Isaac beside him, Matthew exhaled softly, gently rubbing the nape of his neck; he had barely slept yesterday, so he was a little tired, his muscles felt stiff and sore "how is my schedule like?" he asked, exciting the elevator to walk into the office, saying hello to his secretary Mrs. Rodrigos. While the whole building housed Ocean corporations, the 22nd floor was his alone. It gave him privacy and the security he needed.
"You have a charity dinner this evening, " Isaac began, flipping his small notebook. Every personal assistant he knew carried a phone and a tablet, even Mrs. Rodrigos had a tablet, yet Isaac was still stuck in the analog world.
"I thought it was a party, " I mumbled, sneezing loudly.
"You don't look well, sir." Mrs. Rodrigos said from the door, carrying some tablets and a glass of water.
"You should take some aspirin, " she placed the glass on the table, holding out her hands to him. Matthew opened up his palm, and she put the two pills on his hand, then stood by watching him like a hawk until he shoved both into his mouth.
Mrs. Rodrigos was a mystery that most people in the company didn't know about, and those that did only knew half about her. Some said she was Matthew's aunt; others said she was his biological mother, but they all agreed she was meticulous, terrifying, and impressive. She was the only one capable of anticipating Matthew's needs and also very protective of him.
"Isaac, you told me it was a party."
"No, I didn't. It was Mr. Kim who did." Isaac defended, taking care to avoid the Secretary's intimidating glare.
Mr. Kim was the head of the innovation department. Once every two weeks, Matthew held a meeting with all departments heads to talk about ongoing projects, progress, and the way forward regarding those that were stuck and the budget for each project. It was a vigorous meeting, one he enjoyed because he got to speak and interact with his own kind—the tech team without the responsibility of being the CEO. It was the only meeting to look forward to, and when he was preparing for a takeover.
"It's five thousand dollars a plate, " Isaac placed the ticket beside him. Matthew laughed out loudly and then coughed for another half a minute.
"Sir, don't strain yourself." this was from Mrs. Rodrigos, who was still standing in Matthews's office. "Maybe you should go back home and rest," she added.
"How many times have you know me to take a sick off?"
"Once," she answered, and Isaac turned his head towards her in surprise because he had never seen Matthew take sick off or a day off; he even worked on Weekends.
"Don't remind me of that, " Mrs. Rodrigos smiled fondly at Matthew. Although he didn't see the smile because his head was bent down looking at the ticket, Isaac saw it, their eyes met, and she glowered at him until he turned his eyes from her to open his notebook.
"Also, father Josè called; he said to tell you he knows you're dodging his calls."
"He used the word dodge, really?" Matthew chuckled, looking at Isaac for an answer. "Yes, he did." he nodded, a smile still hovering across his lips.
"He still finds ways to surprise me," he murmured.
"What other engagement do I have?" Matthew pulled his phone from the inside of his jacket, flipping through while sneezing, catching Mrs. Rodgrios concerned look. "Im not dying, " he told her, picking a dossier she was giving him.
"He also says to tell you he needs to speak to you after the wedding."
"He does, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, but I told him there is no wedding on your schedule."
Isaac hadn't told the priest that Mr ocean didn't attend any social engagements unless it was social dinners where he could get something out of it, like the charity dinner that evening.
"What did he say when you said that?"
Isaac hesitated, and Matthew lifted his head from the documents he was signing to look at him. He looked uncomfortable, and Matthew let out a laugh. It seemed he laughed the most when they spoke about father Josè, another hot topic among the employees.
It was no secret that the priest had a special place in Matthew's cold heart.
The industry called him a vulture for buying failing companies at low prices, revamping them, and then reselling them at a higher price, making an enormous profit in the process instead of bailing them out, which he has been know to respond that he chooses the best route for his business.
In private, his employees said he was hot but cold as ice.
The media called him the most eligible bachelor.
But father Josè was the only one who thought Matthew's big bark had no fangs to bite.
"Word for word, Isaac. Don't leave anything out."
"He said you better be there if you know what is good for you."
"Well, since I know what's good for me, then I must be there."
"You don't have time, sir. Your schedule is full." Isaac blurted out with panic.
"Create time for me, Isaac. Mrs. Rodgrios will help you call out the clients and move the appointments to a later date.
"Can I have some time alone now?"
When the room was clear, Matthew breathed out a sigh of relief to be finally alone.
Leaning back on his chair with his eyes closed, Matthew admitted to himself that he was looking forward to the wedding, not only because it was a chance to see the families the boys he once knew had created but also to be part of a group that didn't always fall over themselves to impress him, or get close to him for the sole purpose of getting something from him, not that he let people in.
Wheeling his chair so he could look outside through the massive window of his office, Matthew watched the motion of thin drizzle falling on his window as he allowed his memories to go back to the past, a place he rarely visited. But when he did, it was to remember a group of boys who'd selflessly given more of themselves than the small amount of money they contributed to buy him his first computer.
He knew all their businesses were not legitimate, but to have kept themselves away from him to protect him and only contact him when they were desperate meant they valued friendship and loyalty.
It was time to rekindle their friendship. He was bored of the people he met in his well-structured world; he needed excitement and a little danger, and who was more qualified to give him that than the three boys he'd known who were now making moves in the wine industry as well as real estate?
Aksara