Undressed By His Arrogance-Chapter 247: Everything Is A Mess

She shut her laptop, turned off the bedside lamp, and typed the only safe thing left.

Me: Goodnight Winn.

She put the phone face-down but didn’t sleep for a long time. She kept playing her presentation in her head.

*****

The next morning, Ivy and Marissa hurried across the wide plaza toward the towering BSW Investment headquarters. People streamed in with bicycles and clipped Dutch greetings.

"Do you have the presentation loaded on your laptop in case mine goes on the fritz?" Ivy asked, clutching her bag to her side as they approached the revolving doors.

"Yes, Miss Morales. It’s fine. You are going to be fine." Marissa gave her a bright grin.

Ivy exhaled shakily. "Well, just... double-check."

Marissa snorted.

"How can you be so calm? Everything is a mess!" Ivy hissed as she and Marissa rushed toward the elevator.

The elevator rose smoothly.

Marissa elbowed her slightly. "You’re vibrating."

"I’m stressed."

Marissa murmured, "Be calm,"

The doors opened onto the last floor—a quiet, carpeted hallway. An assistant led them into a large conference room.

Bernard, Wilhelm, and Simon were already seated at the table.

"Miss Morales," Bernard said warmly, "this is a nice change of pace. Welcome to Amsterdam."

Ivy forced her shoulders to relax and smiled. "Oh, you have a beautiful city here, Mr. Wilhelm. I’ll find time to explore before we leave." She then shot Marissa a covert signal.

Marissa glided toward the screen, already clicking away. Ivy fidgeted with her blazer.

"Oh, my wife is having a small party this weekend—it’s her birthday," Bernard added with a genial grin. "You should come." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"Well, let’s see if you’re still happy with Everest and House of Kane by the time I’m through. You may not want me at that party after."

Simon snorted. "I like her. She’s honest."

"Hang on," Wilhelm said. "We have one more person."

Ivy blinked and looked around. Everyone she expected was here.

"Who?" she asked.

The conference doors opened behind her.

Ivy felt him before she saw him.

Winn strode in, adjusting his cufflinks.

"Son of a bitch," Ivy whispered under her breath, eyes narrowed into lethal slits.

"Sorry. I’m late, gentlemen. What did I miss?" he said, sliding into the room. He didn’t spare Ivy even a glance—infuriating, considering he absolutely knew she was glaring daggers at his skull and biting her lip hard enough to bruise.

"We were just about to begin," Wilhelm answered, shifting slightly.

Winn finally sank into his chair, crossing one ankle over the other in a controlled, elegant motion, then turned those storm-gray eyes on her. And yes, he’d been right. She was glaring daggers. And biting her lip. And reconsidering her stance on murder.

"Please, proceed."

Ivy inhaled through her nose, squared her shoulders, and turned toward the screen. The lights dimmed slightly, the window blinds tinting automatically to reduce glare, casting the room in a soft, business-focused glow. She clicked the remote and her slides illuminated the wall—clean graphics, aerial images, architectural sketches of the Kane Designer Mall.

She launched into her presentation. She detailed the progress: the foundation standing proud against the skyline, the imported marble delayed at the port due to weather, the rerouted shipments of glass panels from Istanbul, the rainfall that had slowed foundation work but changed nothing in the long run. Everything was still perfectly on schedule.

"Impressive, Miss Morales," Bernard said, nodding. "But we do not doubt this will be an extraordinary piece of work. In fact, we expect it. Our worry isn’t the building. It’s the... chaos surrounding it."

Bernard cleared his throat and continued, "Mr. Kane has been in the news constantly for over a year now. Various scandals—And now, with the arrest of his wife..."

"Ex-wife..." Winn corrected smoothly.

"Apologies. Ex-wife," he amended, clearing his throat. "Regardless... since this mall’s target audience is the rich and powerful of your city, we fear these people may not want to do business with you when this is complete. The scandals, the noise, the... associations. How do you hope to reassure us that we will indeed get our money back from this venture?"

A fair question. One Ivy knew was coming. She’d rehearsed her answer in the mirror, on the plane, and again brushing her teeth at 5 a.m.

"Name one successful businessman who doesn’t have at least one scandal attached to his name," Ivy began. "In fact, name one powerful person—business, politics, entertainment—who has not come under the scrutiny of the press."

Wilhelm shifted slightly, clearing his throat. Simon looked away. Bernard ran a finger under his collar. They all knew she was right.

Ivy continued, "I’m sure every single one of you sitting here has been in the news at some point. Maybe it was exaggerated. Maybe it was true. But still, it happened."

Winn lifted his gaze now. Proud.

"I am not even successful yet," Ivy said, "and I’ve already had my fair share of headlines. I was the runaway bride." She chuckled softly, disarming the tension. "Even Marissa here has a few skeletons in her cupboard."

Marissa’s head whipped toward her, eyes wide.

"I know she sneaks out for cigarettes during her lunch break," Ivy said, smiling sweetly. "And hides the smell with chewing gum and expensive body spray."

"Now," Ivy continued, turning back to the men, "do I go to the press with that? Of course not. Because they are just observers. Outsiders. Looking in with half-baked theories and zero understanding of context. They don’t know if Marissa has a crappy, condescending, annoying, egotistic partner. They just say what they see."

Winn let out a quiet breath, obviously feeling attacked.

"Besides," Ivy concluded, "even bad press can be beneficial. It brings attention, conversation, curiosity. Our project is the first of its kind—a designer mall with luxury housing, high-end boutiques, an art promenade, and a rooftop sky-garden open to public events. People will come to see it. They’ll come even more because everyone is talking about it."

"Not in the case of fraud," Simon added, steepling his fingers.

"I am not trying to downplay your fears," Ivy replied. "You have invested a lot of money in this project—but trust me when I say this... House of Kane and Everest are dedicated to making this project the most profitable venture you have ever dipped your finger in."

Wilhelm leaned back. "Indrukwekkend! I believe you."

Ivy hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she finally exhaled.

Across from her, Winn watched the moment. Pride flickered in his eyes.

"Mr Kane, anything to add?" Simon asked.

"She’s got it covered," Winn said, smile lazy, confident... intimate.

A smile that made Ivy want to strangle him with his own tie.

"I guess that’s it," Bernard said, clapping his hands once. "Enjoy Amsterdam, and we will see you both on Saturday."

"Ugh... both?" Ivy blinked. Her stomach dropped in slow motion.

"My wife’s party," Bernard explained casually. "Mr Kane will be your plus one, I’m guessing."

Her head turned sharply to Winn—who, of course, was smirking at her.

"Yeah... yes, of course," Ivy said. "Thank you for having me, gentlemen," Ivy said quickly, fighting the urge to flee. "We will be on our way now."

She gestured to Marissa, who was already done packing up.

The men all stood and shook hands. Ivy forced herself to meet each grip firmly, professionally, despite the sparks crawling over her skin from Winn’s proximity.

Winn gave her a small wave—two fingers, lazy, smug. Ivy had half a mind to give him the finger. Only the presence of three multibillion-euro investors kept her from doing it.

Ivy and Marissa headed back to their hotel room.

"I’m going to take a nap," Ivy said as they approached the elevators. "A long one. When you can, inform my uncle that all is well. I’m sure he’ll be pacing his office by now."

Marissa nodded. "Of course, Miss Morales. He called twice already."

Despite her exhaustion, Ivy snorted. "Sounds like him."

They reached the elevators, and just as Ivy pressed the button, his voice floated from behind her—smooth, warm, deep enough to vibrate down her spine.

"Going up?"

Every hair on Ivy’s body stood in salute—and protest. She turned around slowly.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, glaring at Winn.

"I was booked in this hotel."

"You were booked," Ivy repeated, folding her arms. "Or you booked yourself?"

He tilted his head. "Does it matter? I am booked."

It mattered. Oh, it very much mattered. And they both knew it.

"You just had to show up, didn’t you?" Ivy snapped. "What—didn’t trust me? Thought I was going to screw it all up?"

The elevator dinged open. They stepped inside, the doors beginning to slide shut. Marissa hung back.

"I’ll wait for the next one," Marissa said quickly.

The doors closed with an ominous thunk.

The elevator hummed upward, soft music playing overhead.

Ivy stood stiffly on one side, arms crossed, eyes fixed ahead. Winn stood too close on the other—hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the mirrored wall.