CHAPTER 288: WOMEN ON THE ROOF

Rachel arriving first completely messed with Darren’s focus.

It could have meant a lot of things or nothing at all. Either she was extremely excited after their discussion concerning Ileana and working together like they used to, or... she knew something.

Darren couldn’t put it past her. Knowing things was what Rachel did.

As he watched though, Rachel carefully followed the waiter and took a seat on the space reserved for her. She didn’t look surprised or confused about it at all. Now, Darren really suspected that Rachel knew what was happening.

Click-clack. Click-clack. Click-CLACK.

Someone else was coming.

Darren dropped his glass of Pinot on his shadowed table and turned to the glass door of the roof.

It was Kara. She exploded through the glass doors like a firework. Electric blue sequins flashed under the fairy lights, her mini-dress leaving little to imagination, thigh-high boots striking the marble like gunshots.

A grin split her face, aimed at the table space where she expected Darren.

"Boss Steele! Ready to get this party— WHOA!"

She paused as her voice died, choked off mid-leer. Her eyes, wide and suddenly bewildered, snapped from the empty head of the table... to the impossibly long table... to the other woman already seated.

"Rachel?" Kara squinted her eyes, trying to see under the night’s poor lighting. Her voice lost its playful edge, turning flat and confused.

She ignored the waiter gliding towards her place card ’Kara DeAndre’. "The hell? Darren invited me to dinner. W— what are you doing here?" Her gaze darted around the rooftop, searching for him, finding only darkness, wealthy adornments, the waiters and Rachel’s icy poise.

"Guess we were both invited," Rachel replied.

Kara frowned. "Boss invited you too?"

Rachel gave her a knowing gaze.

"W— why— why would he do that?" Kara stuttered. Then she thought about it for a while. "If this is his way of getting me to do a threesome, it’s not working."

Rachel seemed appalled by that.

Kara pulled away from the waiter who was trying to gesture her to her seat. "I’m going there already!" she snapped.

Behind the shadows, Darren frowned. He’d never seen Kara that angry.

Before long, the doors sighed open again. Olivia Sinclair entered.

Kara’s frown stretched even longer. "Okay, a foursome? What is this?"

The green haired beauty was dressed in matching emerald silk, a gown that had a flowery design at its base, hugging her waist and the round pair of breasts she proudly exposed for the night. The cleavage was beautiful. A ’V’ unlike any other.

Her polished smile was prepped for Darren’s charming grin. But just a few steps out of the door, she froze.

The smile shattered completely as she took in the scene: Rachel seated like a judge, Kara vibrating with bewildered irritation, and the size of the table.

Had she read the invitation wrong? Was this a meeting and not a date?

Her sharp eyes scanned the place cards nearest her entrance. ’Olivia Sinclair. Amelia Forrest. Cheyenne Bordeaux.’ Her blood ran cold. Then, further down... ’Tamara Johnstone.’

Her stomach lurched. ’Oh god. He didn’t. He invited Tammie?’

One of the waiters approached and gestured to her seat.

It was like Olivia wasn’t even aware of what was happening. She moved on autopilot, her face became a mask of carefully reconstructed composure cracking at the edges. What really was going on here?

Did Darren plan this? Why?

She took her seat, now starting to be slightly ashamed of her tremendous amount of cleavage. Kara glanced at her, mouth opening but closing again. Rachel only gave an expressionless gaze.

Olivia smiled nervously. "Rachel. Kara," she managed, her voice tight. "This is... unexpected." Her mind raced, reassessing, recalculating the nuclear fallout.

She had always suspected that Darren was involved with Rachel Teschmacher. As far as she knew, Darren was a Prince Arthur type character to Rachel. He saved her from the evil king.

Rachel — the damsel in distress — surely felt a strong sense of love, attachment and trust to him because of this. She’d seen the way Rachel looked at her, like she was competition.

Could it be that it was Rachel who planned this? Was she trying to scope all the competition? Trying to get them to back off?

Olivia didn’t have much time to come to a conclusion when the glass door opened again.

It was Amelia this time. She appeared in the doorway, a blade in a stark white pantsuit, her dark hair pulled back severely, though her bangs remained.

Unlike the others, she didn’t seem excessively dressed for a romantic date, but she was surprised at the sight of the other women.

Not that she didn’t expect them to be there. But the way they were dressed, and the way the table was prepared. This looked more and more like some kind of date.

Nevertheless, she kept her expression calibrated, still expecting this to be a high-stakes negotiation. Maybe Darren would show up later.

Rachel, Kara, Olivia stared at her, shocked expressions on all their faces except Rachel who looked unmoved.

The waiter indicated the seat labeled ’Amelia Forrest’ right beside Olivia. Amelia sat mechanically, placing her napkin precisely on her lap, staring straight ahead at the empty centerpiece.

"Ready for the meeting?" she asked Rachel.

Kara snapped her gaze to her. "Wait. You knew about this?"

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "Knew about what? You guys? I only expected some business partners, not you three."

Olivia glanced at her. "I am a business partner. But why didn’t you expect us?"

"Cause I thought this was a business meeting."

A low, throaty chuckle echoed from the entrance. They all turned their heads and saw the gallant Cheyenne Lamb Bordeaux standing framed in the glass doorway.

Rather than her usual purple, she wore a blood-red, custom-tailored gown. It hugged every powerful line, one leg dramatically slit open. Diamonds glittered at her ears and throat, catching the last rays of the sun.

Her expression was amused, predatory. Even though she was caught off guard, she was still utterly in control. She took in the tableau – the confusion, the tension, the varying levels of shock – and a slow, knowing smirk curved her lips.

"Oh, Darren Steele. You audacious fool."

Darren watched with gritted teeth. ’I wonder how angry she’d get.’

Cheyenne’s sharp eyes devoured the scene: Kara’s confusion, Rachel’s tension, Olivia’s strained poise, Amelia’s glacial detachment. He invited her alongside his other trophies.

What exactly was his play here? To show her that he had many beautiful women beside him and he couldn’t care about her? Was he trying to get her jealous?

A waiter motioned to her seat tagged ’Cheyenne L. Bordeaux’ directly across from Olivia. She ignored the waiter’s deferential bow, gliding to her seat with lethal grace.

"Well, well," Cheyenne purred, her voice cutting through the tense air like a scalpel. She leaned back, surveying the growing collection of rivals. "The elusive Mr. Steele certainly knows how to... curate an audience."

Her gaze lingered on Rachel. "You’re Rachel Teschmacher, aren’t you? Smithers’s former secretary. Tell me, darling, did your invitation mention it was a... group activity?"

The question hung, heavy with implication.

Kara gulped, Olivia stared. Both of them were utterly dumbfounded by the presence of the richest woman in the state.

How did Darren pull this?