Page 22 of His Cruel Billionaire Scorecard

After Avery said she couldn’t join her for the night, she had gotten a bit depressed and spotted a bar not far away from the roller rink and decided that a few drinks wouldn’t be ‘too bad’.

Then she grabbed her skateboard after downing two cans of beer, telling herself it was not too bad at all, that she didn’t even feel tipsy, and the next thing she knew, she was falling, and who of all people happened to be passing there and catch her in a sorry state but her boss?

Olivia groaned again.

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Hitting her fist against the wall.

Her cat’s loud meow at the door interrupted her pity party.

“Hey, hey, Sandy.”

She bristled her tail and mewed angrily again.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll get you something to eat soon. Let me just take a shower and get ready for work.”

Hopefully, he doesn’t remember or hopefully chooses to ignore what happened yesterday.

But that was just wishful thinking. Olivia thought as she stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to wash away the smell of alcohol.

***

Roman was not having a good day.

First of all, his company was in a crisis.

The stock he’d bet on that seemed promising was crashing very badly.

For the past two hours, he’d been pressed to make a decision, and he’d been fielding calls from investors, trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation.

A knock sounded on his door.

“Roman, we have a major problem with the Johnson account,” Thompson West said, opening the door and coming in a voice tinged with urgency. “The negotiations have hit a roadblock, and if we don’t act quickly, we could lose the deal and all the potential revenue it brings.”

Roman, with his brow, furrowed with concern, motioned for his friend to sit down. He leaned forward, fully attentive to the gravity of the situation.

“Tell me everything, Thomson,” he said, his voice calm but resolute.

He dove into the details, explaining the issues with the stock contract terms, the misunderstandings between the parties involved, and the mounting pressure from competitors eager to snatch the co-sponsorship deal away. He outlined their proposed strategy, emphasizing the need for direct intervention and a personal touch to salvage the situation.

For the next 30 minutes, Roman paced around his office.

They discussed and worked tirelessly, collaborating closely to develop a strategic plan. They analyzed the contract terms, identified areas of compromise, and crafted a persuasive pitch to reassure the stock representatives of the value and benefits of their partnership.

“I think that’ll work, phone someone there, I have an in.”

“You should take a seat, Roman; you’re making me feel on edge.”

Roman sighed and sat behind his desk, his brow furrowed, and a deep scowl etched across his face.

He was in a foul mood, frustrated by the events of the day and the mounting pressures of his responsibilities. The last thing he needed was another complication, but fate seemed to have a different plan.

“I think that could work if we traveled right now. How about you accompany me?”

Thomson scoffed.

“For two days? I can’t come,” he said, raising both hands.

“I have to hold down the fort here, okay?”

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