Made For Him

Lily’s POV

The morning breeze brushed my face, strands of my curly black hair grazing my eyelids as I focused on the traffic lights. With my elbow hooked to the open window of my range rover, I tapped my index finger on the side of my head as I counted the seconds while pedestrians crossed the road.

“There’s enough time to reconsider,” my assistant said from the passenger seat, and pointed at the numbers reading above us. “You can make a life changing decision in 60 minutes.”

“How is this a life changing decision?” I questioned in a scoff as I sent her a glance, “or is it for you?”

“For us,” she rolled her brown eyes at me, and ran her fingers through her straight blonde hair, an action I’d never do else I want my fingers to get stuck in my curls. “In case you’ve forgotten, we are 5 minutes away from Steele Corp.”

“3 minutes if I drive above the speed limit,” I grinned, my fingers tightening on the steering wheel as I adjusted my posture, ready to continue driving as the light changed to yellow.

“And why would you do that?” She implored, a frown on her brow. “Anyone in your shoes would be making a reverse and a run for the hills.”

“Which is why no one is in my shoes, they must have all declined the offer,” I shrugged, causing the red wrap-around blouse I was wearing above black slacks to tighten a bit on my shoulders.

“I would do same,” she blurted. “I mean being a data analyst is an insane and chaotic job, so it doesn't help if you are going to work for a company like that.”

“Like what?” I interrogated as I set the car in motion the moment the light turned green and pressed my foot down on the accelerator. “I’ve heard a few things but not much to make me loose a chance to grow my career. Besides the pay is higher than everything I’ve ever received Daisy.”

“One would think you need the money if they just heard you,” she mumbled as she held on to the seatbelt while the car raced down the road hence I kept to my word about driving above the speed limit.

“Who doesn't need money?” I raised a brow and gave her an inquisitive gaze through the rearview mirror.

“You, Miss Lily Valerie Stone, daughter and only child to Maddox and Madeline Stone, the well respected and wealthy architects America has ever known,” she declared, her tone firm as if she was presenting a project to a board of directors.

“Well my dear Daisy, my parents money are their’s, I wanna make mine,” I replied, my tone matching hers.

“That's hard to believe but okay,” she nodded, causing her hair to fall over her face and shoulder, creating a contrast on the black mesh blouse she had tucked into the waistband of her white slacks. “However I still stand on my suggestion that we’d both leave without taking up this offer.”

“I don't want to be a coward like the rest Daisy,” I claimed as I took a turn into the connecting road that led to the headquarters of the multi-billion dollar company. “Besides I gave them my word and I don't wanna go back on it.”

“Me too,” she shivered all of a sudden and I narrowed my eyes in her path. “If he is half as ruthless as I’ve heard then we’d both be doomed.”

“Who?” I implored, momentarily confused.

“Roman .J. Steele,” she blurted the name like it was forbidden. “Founder and CEO of Steele Corporation. The man who turned a backend metal and steel factory run by his father into what it is.”

“Oh, him,” I let out.

“That's all you have to say?” She quizzed, shock on her face.

“Well I don't feel there’s more I need to say,” I shrugged.

“Then there's definitely more you need to know,” she expressed, letting go of the seatbelt as I began to slow the car.

“I briefly remember asking you a minute or two ago to elaborate when you said ‘a company like that,” I finished with airqoutes for emphasis. “Does that have anything to do with the CEO too?”

“Lily, it has everything to do with the CEO,” she snorted, offering me a strange look as if I was dumb for joy getting it.

“Fill me in then,” I declared. “As a data analyst, I always need enough data, be it about a person, a company, or a task.”

“Okay, what have you heard?” She asked.

“I don't know, you tell me,” I uttered, waiting for whatever she had to say.

“Well rumor has it, that Steele corp is not all it is made out to be,” she started.

“I’ve heard that much,” I pointed out as I swerved the car into the parking lot, we had arrived at Steele Corp headquarters. A building so tall you could crack your neck while trying to stare at the top. “Maybe that’s why they need a good analyst like me.”

“Not in that aspect,” she sighed. “For a simple factory to evolve into something as huge as this needs money.”

“What else would it need?” I questioned in a scoff.

“But in a written interview by Roman Steele, he explained that he never took out a loan from a bank or received any form of financial help.”

“Maybe his family had some stored up money or an asset that could generate funds at the time,” I contested, digesting her words.

“His parents were known to be struggling and barely had little to send their kids to school,” she informed. “So how did he get such money to do that?”

“Maybe he won the lottery?” I asked and she glared at me. “Sorry. So what do the rumors say?”

“News going round says he had dealings in some shady business,” she revealed.

“Shady business like?” I implored.

“Drugs, theft, gambling,” she listed off her fingers. “The money he got from this was later grown through cryptocurrency, the dark web. There’s even news of him running the mafia.”

“The what?” I breathed a laugh, not able to hold in humor as it turned into a chuckle. “Come on Daisy, this isn't some movie.”

“I know,” she said. “But think about this. Why is there no photo of this man anywhere in the world?”

“Who, Roman Steele?” I thought out loud.

“Yeah, aside from a photo from when he was 10, there’s nothing to recognize him with,” he explained further.

“That's a bit sneaky I’m not gonna lie,” I bobbed my head, lost in thought. “I think someone tried to get a picture but it turned out blurred with no recognizable features.”

“The only thing one could point out is his impressive height and build, and some brown hair,” she finished for me. “The photographer is said to have been wiped off the face of the earth.”

“Okay that's impossible,” I shook my head, refusing to believe her words.

“It is, because the man’s last uploaded post was on that day, 8 months ago,” she emphasized. “What could have happened to him if he wasn't dead?”