Chapter 3 VVIP Room One

Ariana’s footsteps blended into the silence. Dim orange gold neon lights glowed throughout the Phoenix bar in downtown London, reflecting elegantly off towering pillars of aged wood.

“VVIP Room 3. Don’t get the wrong room, miss. That collector never stays long,” her former family lawyer’s voice echoed in her head. “He will pay a high price, if you can persuade him.”

“I'll make him interested. Tonight, I must succeed in selling Grandpa’s villa land,” she insisted. Her legs trembled, but her steps remained steady.

Ariana drew a deep breath. Her chest felt tight. The brown folder in her hand was clutched firmly. Ever since her mother had been transferred to the general ward, Ariana had gone straight to see her lawyer.

The scent of expensive alcohol, thick cigar smoke, and sharp perfume filled the humid, lavish air of the exclusive bar. Her stomach churned, but she forced herself to endure it.

“Is this the room?” Ariana murmured, stopping in front of a pair of towering VVIP doors.

Her appearance was strikingly simple. A knee length pastel dress and plain shoes stood in sharp contrast to the luxury of the red carpet lining the stairs.

Her eyes caught on the golden dragon carving on the wooden door handle, but part of the room number was obscured by decorative artificial leaves.

She reached up, standing on tiptoe to move the leaves aside, when a heavy hand suddenly gripped her shoulder. “Are you the last candidate? Why are you still outside?” a voice barked, roughly yanking her arm.

Ariana frowned, forced to follow the pull. “Wait! I think you’ve misunderstood. I’m looking for...”

“Stop talking! Our boss doesn’t have much time. Get in!” the guard snapped. The bald man shoved her through the large door that had just been flung open.

“Ah!” Ariana cried out in panic.

Her foot caught on the edge of the carpet. She stumbled forward, both arms instinctively wrapping around her stomach to protect the fetus. “What other damn misfortune is this?” she hissed softly, her heart pounding as she touched her abdomen. “The baby… is the baby okay?” she whispered anxiously.

Ariana’s unconscious gesture over her stomach did not go unnoticed by a man.

A mocking whisper from a woman disturbed Ariana’s unease. Five women in elegant black uniforms stood neatly in a line, all of them looking down on her in unison.

“Last candidate, stand up. Fix your appearance,” ordered a man with clear framed glasses, his voice firm. “Take that folder,” he added, directing a guard.

“Introduce yourself,” he said, glancing at his wristwatch. “Ten minutes. Begin.”

Still short of breath, Ariana stood unsteadily at the end of the line, smoothing her rumpled dress. She stepped forward hesitantly, her eyes darting uncertainly around the room.

“Last candidate? Who? Me?” she whispered in confusion, pointing at herself.

Another man sat with commanding presence on a large dark brown leather sofa. He wore a luxurious black suit, a costly watch gleaming on his wrist. A woman sat beside him. Christian Matheus had been silent until now, but his cold gray eyes were fixed on Ariana.

Their gazes met. His predatory stare assessed her openly. Ariana swallowed, her body growing restless.

“My name is Ariana… Ariana Austen,” she said haltingly.

“Is that all?” Lorne, Christian’s personal assistant, asked incredulously. “I want to hear your purpose for being here,” he added, his patience wearing thin.

Some of Ariana’s fear dissipated. A small smile curved her lips. She assumed the arrogant man sitting there with his legs crossed was the collector her lawyer had mentioned.

“Last candidate. Are you listening to me?” Lorne repeated, his tone heavy with pressure.

“Oh, sorry. Yes. I hear you.”

Each page was flipped with an impatient touch. Ariana mistook it for interest. “My villa has a land area of eight hundred square meters, as you can see in the photos,” she explained enthusiastically, as if presenting to a client.

“Wait. Stop,” Lorne cut in, his brow furrowing deeply. “A villa? Land? What are you talking about?”

Despite his harsh reaction, Ariana forced herself to continue. “Please listen to me first, sir.” She swallowed, cold sweat forming on her forehead. “This will be a good investment for you.”

Lorne’s brows drew together sharply. “So you came here to sell your family’s property? Are you joking?!”

“Lorne,” Christian interjected. He raised his hand just as his assistant was about to launch another sharp protest.

“What is your skill?” Christian asked for the first time. His voice was low and threatening, accompanied by the clink of a whiskey glass touching the glass table.

“I can paint,” Ariana said. When Christian remained silent, she continued, her voice hoarse. “If you are willing, I can paint you and your wife. But please, don’t reject my offer.”

Amber, who sat beside Christian with her head resting coyly on his shoulder, laughed dismissively. “How stupid. Chris, do agencies send property brokers to work as maids now?”

Christian looked at Ariana. “Do I need to explain to you that you and the women standing there came here to become attendants at my side?” he said, his low voice echoing through the room. Amber smiled arrogantly.

Ariana’s pupils dilated. Her face went pale. “To become… attendants?” she looked around in disbelief. Recruiting attendants in an exclusive bar?

“No, I didn't come to be anyone’s attendant. I came to VVIP Room 3 to sell my family’s asset,” Ariana replied, her voice barely audible.

“VVIP 3? You’re in the wrong room. This is VVIP 1. My room,” Christian said coldly, his commanding aura filling the space. He made a small gesture to the guard to take her away. “Escort her out.”

A male guest and his bodyguards entered, brushing past Ariana. His booming voice rang with enthusiasm as he respectfully greeted Christian Matheus by name.

Ariana froze when she heard it. She held her breath. Everyone knew the name Christian Matheus, the billionaire CEO of Crownbridge Group. He was the mysterious leader of the world’s second largest property and construction conglomerate.

And now, the man who was nearly impossible to meet was right there, inside VVIP Room 1.

Turning back, Ariana ran past the guards and slipped through the nearly closed door. “Wait!” she shouted in panic. She pushed through the line of candidates and stopped in the middle of the room.

“Mr. Matheus…” she rasped, her breath ragged. Her tear soaked face lifted to look at him. “Please buy my grandfather’s villa land!”

“How dare you sneak back in here!” the guard growled, grabbing her arm again. “Get out now!”

“No, let me stay. Please, Mr. Matheus, I need this money to pay my mother’s hospital bills,” she sobbed, clutching the brown folder tightly.

Christian looked at her coldly, showing no interest whatsoever in her worn folder. Still, he turned and whispered to his assistant. Lorne bent slightly and nodded.

“How much?”

“Eight hundred thousand pounds.”

Christian leaned back, the corner of his lips curving into a devilish smirk. “Close the door. Leave only her inside.”