Chapter 2: Chapter 2
"I see you are a man of few words, no, Mr. Sullivan?"
At the sound of the female voice, Morgan turned away from the view of the large ground floor garden before him and found Samantha Manson admiring him with pure mischief in her unnaturally blue eyes. Though he was successful in containing his scornful sigh, he wasn't able to disguise the displeased grimace that twisted his face when he responded, coldly.
"In fact." Taking a sip from the glass of champagne he was holding, Morgan again moved his gaze away from the expression on his new partner's wife's face, pretending not to notice the clearly inviting tone there "Especially when I realize it's not worth saying nothing.".
“Oh, I understand perfectly what you mean." Her voice approached, to Morgan's chagrin, before the hand with long red painted nails reached his arm, initiating a soft caress "Parties with the purpose of doing business are always very boring. Especially when my husband is so focused on getting new members." she grumbled, but when she realized that he made no attempt to meet her eyes, Mrs. Manson advanced a few more steps, placing himself in front of him with a seductive smile "Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy that Anthony got a man as important and competent as you to support him in business, but you have to imagine what is it like for a young woman like me to be alone in a huge mansion while my husband spends nights and more nights locked in the office taking care of paperwork..." with a smile, Samantha bit the side, running her nails along the length of her arm, up to shoulder height, before he could walk away "I was wondering if you wouldn't like to use his office from time to time... After all, now that you're partners, everything that's his is a little bit of yours too..."
“It's a beautiful fountain. Pulling his arm out of reach of her hand, Morgan commented coldly.
"What?" Mrs. Manson gasped in disbelief.
"The source." Morgan nodded towards the large fountain of gray stone that spouted water a few meters in front of them, just below a small balcony "It is an excellent work of sculpture. I think I'll take a closer look at it."
"Oh..." Samantha mumbled, seeming unable to contain a grimace at his indirect refusal, but soon a plastic smile, frozen in place like a puppet's, spread across her red-covered lips and she hurried on. in extending her hand towards his again "I'll accompany you, then. So we can talk more privately..."
"It is not necessary. As I've told you before, I see no need to talk, when clearly no good will come of certain conversations. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to reflect and realize that I'm right, alone in this huge mansion, while your husband and I are working on those tedious paperwork." Morgan nodded, suppressing the urge she was feeling to smirk at the startled, outraged face of Mrs. Manson "By the way, I think you should look for Anthony right now, or risk him getting a few more partners to keep him busy, among all those investors he's been talking to. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mrs. Manson..."
Not giving her the opportunity to let out even a single sigh, Morgan strode away, letting the cool night air wash away some of the smell of cigars and whiskey that seemed to have lingered after two long hours at this party. As much as he was in that environment for almost ten years, it seemed that those opulent scenes, full of fake smiles and millimetrically planned sentences, never got easier to bear. Like Samantha Manson, all those people were like ventriloquist's dummies, moving with grace and perfection while their true intentions hid between innuendo and the relentless pursuit of power and connections.
That was one of the reasons he was so good with numbers, spreadsheets and statistics: they were direct, true and incontrovertible. No matter how complicated they might be, they were what they were: there would never be anything lurking behind the data, ready to stab you in the back at the first opportunity. That's why he was so good at finding business opportunities where no one else could, just as his father had been before him. There was nothing too difficult about becoming a partner in a failing company, making it grow, and then selling your shares for three times the price you bought them. It was all about planning and logistics, after all. Something much easier and more practical to deal with than Anthony's greedy euphoria with their partnership and his wife's anything but discreet advances.
With luck, that would be one of the few times he would be forced to frequent the Manson house, until be able to completely disconnect from them.
Stopping, finally, in front of the bridge, Morgan breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that the distance had been enough to muffle the loud sound of music and conversations coming from inside the hall. With any luck, Anthony would be entertained enough by his feeble attempts to sell more shares in his company to the old big shots he had managed to round up and forget about his existence...
Her train of thought was interrupted by the muffled sound of quick footsteps on the porch above the fountain. Eyes wide, Morgan barely had time to turn her attention to the first floor before a tiny figure flew past her line of sight from the balcony. Confused, he was about to look at what was about to fall into the fountain when, with his heart frozen inside his chest, he watched a young woman appear from between the balcony curtains, not hesitating a single second before leaning on the railing of the railings that protected the edges of the balcony and throw his legs over them, jumping towards the fountain almost at the same time as the first figure that had thrown himself.
"Hang on!" He let out a choked scream, filled with pure terror, but he couldn't be fast enough to reach the girl before she hit the fountain square with a heavy, wet sound, spraying water everywhere, especially him. However, Morgan was barely aware that his suit was now completely soaked, concentrating only on reaching the young woman and helping her. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"