allendalepharm Chapter 159: The First Meeting 2
Chapter 159: The First Meeting 2
The soft chime of the private express elevator echoed through the penthouse at precisely seven o’clock.
Catherine stood near the long kitchen island, automatically smoothing down the fabric of her cream knit sweater. She had changed out of her daytime attire, opting for something simpler, but her hands were still slightly cold. Beside her, Jake stood pouring a fresh glass of water, his posture entirely relaxed, while Aliya was already bouncing toward the foyer, her phone safely tucked away for once.
The heavy double doors of the elevator slid open to reveal Martha and Ryan Rivers. Martha was carrying a small, foil-wrapped dish of home-baked lemon bars, while Ryan stepped out behind her, adjusting the collar of his casual jacket as he took in the soaring glass ceilings and the panoramic views of the Veyra coastline.
"Oh, my goodness," Martha murmured, her eyes tracing the clean lines of the grand living room before locking onto Jake. "Jake, honey, I knew you said it was a penthouse, but this looks like a contemporary art museum."
"It’s just a standard apartment layout for the upper floors, Mom," Jake said, a faint smile breaking his usual flat expression as he stepped forward to catch her in a brief, one-armed hug.
"There is nothing standard about a living room that has its own structural support columns, son," Ryan chuckled, walking over to shake Jake’s hand firmly before clapping him on the shoulder. His eyes immediately drifted past his son, landing on Catherine.
Catherine took a step forward, her heart doing a quick, nervous flutter before she stabilized her voice. "Mr. and Mrs. Rivers, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you. I’m Catherine."
Martha’s face instantly lit up. She set the lemon bars on the nearest marble counter and closed the distance, completely bypassing any formal introductions to pull Catherine into a warm, genuine hug. "Oh, call us Martha and Ryan, dear! Look at you. Aliya has been talking our ears off about you for weeks, but she didn’t mention how lovely you are."
"She really didn’t," Ryan agreed with a warm, easy smile, stepping up to shake Catherine’s hand. "Welcome to the family dinner, Catherine. Don’t let Jake’s stoic face intimidate you; we’re very glad you’re here."
The genuine warmth in their voices acted like an immediate release valve for Catherine’s tension. The tight knot in her shoulders unraveled completely, and the hesitant smile on her lips turned bright and real. "Thank you. I’m really glad to be here too."
"See? I told you she’d love you!" Aliya chimed in, leaning against the back of the sofa with a grin. "Now, can we please focus on the important part? The food from the Meridian Crown is supposed to be delivered any minute, and I am absolutely starving after carrying twenty million marks on my wrist all afternoon."
"Aliya, watch your manners," Martha scolded gently, though she was already exploring the kitchen space, looking for a serving tray.
Right on cue, the service elevator at the back of the kitchen chimed. Elias stepped out, followed by two white-glove catering attendants from the Meridian Crown. They moved with absolute precision, carrying heavy silver domed platters and insulated transport cases. Within five minutes, the long minimalist dining table was transformed into a high-end banqueting spread: slow-roasted prime rib with a rich red-wine reduction, pan-seared sea bass over a bed of saffron risotto, and a vibrant array of roasted heirloom vegetables.
"Dinner is served to your exact specifications, Mr. Rivers," Elias said, giving a precise, stiff-backed bow before dismissing the attendants. "I will be downstairs in the security lobby should you require anything further."
"Thanks, Elias," Jake nodded.
As the five of them sat down around the massive table, the initial formality evaporated completely. Despite the world-class catering from the city’s most exclusive establishment, the atmosphere instantly took on the loud, comfortable cadence of the Rivers household.
Ryan took the head of the table, carving the prime rib with an appreciative nod. "Well, I have to hand it to you, Jake. When you said you were ordering in, I didn’t expect the Meridian Crown’s entire kitchen staff to effectively migrate to your upper floor."
"It’s just an internal request," Jake replied evenly, placing a generous portion of the sea bass onto Catherine’s plate before serving himself. "Since I own it, the management takes these orders directly. It’s faster than booking a private alcove at the restaurant, and it keeps the press from tracking the vehicles."
Ryan paused, his fork hovering for a second before he let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "Right. I keep forgetting you own the hotel now. Casual weekend orders from your own luxury franchise. I need to get used to that."
"Don’t start with the business talk yet, Ryan," Martha warned, passing a bowl of standard salad across the table. She looked over at Catherine with a warm, curious expression. "Catherine, dear, Aliya mentioned you’re currently working How is the internship going? A lot of people your age would kill to get their foot in the door of a state-owned enterprise like that."
"It’s going well, thank you," Catherine smiled, though a light blush hit her cheeks. "It’s definitely intense. The security clearance and the bureaucracy can be exhausting, and sometimes you spend days just filing compliance reports. But it’s an incredible learning experience, and since almost everyone in the financial sector dreams of securing a permanent spot there for their future career stability, I’m just trying to work as hard as I can."
"That’s the right attitude," Ryan agreed, looking thoroughly impressed. "State-owned firms don’t just hand out positions. It takes real grit to stay on top of that workload. It’s a tough environment, but it keeps you sharp."
Jake leaned back in his chair, watching his father nod in approval and his mother smile warmly at Catherine as she explained the daily routine at the trust. Seeing the deep, unmistakable pride written clearly across his parents’ faces, a sudden wave of reality hit him.
’We really have come a long way,’ Jake thought, his eyes tracking the light reflecting off the expensive crystal glassware.
His mind flashed back, completely unbidden, to that humid afternoon on the local neighborhood basketball court. He could still vividly hear the mocking laughter of the older guys, the heavy thud of the ball bouncing away on the cracked asphalt, and the crushing weight of being completely broke, powerless, and dismissed as a nobody. Back then, his parents had looked at him with constant, quiet worry in their eyes, terrified of his future in a city that ate people alive. Now, they were sitting in a multi-million-mark penthouse, eating food from a luxury hotel he owned, completely secure. The contrast was staggering.
Before he could dwell on the thought further, his phone buzzed heavily against his thigh. He pulled it out, noting the encrypted caller ID.
"Excuse me for a second," Jake said, setting his napkin down. "I need to take this."
"Don’t be long, Jake," Martha called out playfully. "The lemon bars are waiting."
Jake walked away from the dining table, stepping into the quiet, dim space of the adjacent study and sliding the glass door shut. He pressed the button to answer the call. "Adrian."
"Hey, Jake," Adrian’s voice came through the speaker, crisp and direct. "Are you free tomorrow? Sunday?"
Jake arched an eyebrow, leaning against the edge of the mahogany desk. "Tomorrow? Why? What’s going on?"
"My father wants to meet you," Adrian said flatly.
Jake paused, a rare flicker of surprise crossing his face. He hadn’t expected the older man to move this quickly. "Your father? Why the sudden interest?"
"He said he’s been wanting to meet the ’Gold King’ for a while now," Adrian explained, a slight chuckle in his voice. "And honestly, since he knows you’re actively looking for strong institutional connections in the US market right now, he said this seems like the perfect opportunity to finally sit down and talk. He’s only in Veyra for a short window."
Jake calculated the timeline in his head. Connecting with Adrian’s father could open up massive avenues across the Atlantic before the live broadcast on Tuesday night. "Alright. I can make time. Where does he want to meet? I can have Elias book a private lounge at the financial club."
"Actually, my father already picked the spot," Adrian said. "He said we’ll meet right in your own backyard. The Meridian Crown restaurant, twelve sharp."
Jake’s lips twitched upward into a cold, sharp line. A power move, or just convenience? Choosing my own establishment for the meeting. "Fine. Tell him twelve o’clock works. I’ll contact the hotel manager tonight and make the necessary arrangements."
"Perfect. See you tomorrow, Jake."
The line went dead. Jake lowered the phone, his mind already shifting into executive gear, setting up the security parameters for the noon meeting. He slipped the device back into his pocket and walked back out to the dining room, the heavy glass door sliding open smoothly.
Once the main plates were cleared away, Martha proudly presented her foil-wrapped dish. "Now, I don’t care how many Michelin stars that hotel kitchen has, nobody leaves this table until they’ve had at least one of my lemon bars."
"I’ll take three," Aliya said instantly, reaching across the table.
"Take one at a time, Al," Jake said flatly, reaching out to cut a neat square for Catherine first, then one for his mother.
Catherine took a bite of the crisp, tart dessert and let out a genuine sigh of appreciation. "Martha, these are incredible. The restaurant’s dessert menu doesn’t even come close to this."
Martha beamed, thoroughly triumphant. "See? Real food wins every time. You can come over to the house anytime you want a proper home-cooked meal, Catherine. You don’t have to wait for Jake to invite you."
"I might take you up on that," Catherine smiled, her cheeks flushing with a soft, affectionate warmth.
By nine o’clock, the storm that had been gathering over the coastline finally broke. Heavy drops of rain began to splatter against the massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the penthouse, blurring the distant, flashing lights of the financial district into streaks of gold and silver. Inside, the sound of the rain only made the large living space feel more secure, entirely insulated from the cold efficiency of the corporate world outside.
Ryan stood up from the table, gesturing toward the glass balcony doors. "Grab your jacket, Jake. Let’s get a look at this storm from the balcony."
Jake nodded, setting his glass down and following his father out into the cool, damp night air. The wind was crisp, carrying the sharp scent of ozone and ocean salt. They stood under the heavy concrete overhang of the terrace, looking out at the sprawling expanse of Veyra.
Ryan leaned against the structural railing, pulling a small silver lighter from his pocket and turning it over in his fingers—a rhythmic, familiar habit. "Your uncle Darius called me before we left the house. I don’t know why he keeps calling me even though I made it clear that I don’t want anything to do with the company."
Jake kept his hands inside his pockets, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon where the waves met the sky. "Did he mention the ministry’s response?"
"He said the formal clearance for the Veyra One network layout was finalized this afternoon," Ryan said, his voice carrying a subtle mix of pride and caution. "He told me he’s never seen an individual force a national broadcast network to concede to those terms."
"They didn’t have a choice," Jake replied flatly, his tone completely level. "They need the viewer metrics that Golden Investments commands right now. Leaving a liability like a network censor on the live feed didn’t make strategic sense."
Ryan stayed quiet for a long beat, watching the heavy rain fall into the dark streets below. "The men in those ministerial offices are going to watch every second of that broadcast, Jake. They’ll look for any crack in your foundation to force a concession."
"Let them look," Jake said, turning his head to meet his father’s eyes, a faint, cold spark of focus settling into his gaze. "They think my age is a vulnerability because they assume I’m desperate for their political approval. But because I didn’t inherit an old-money empire, I don’t owe any favors to the Ministry. I don’t have decades of political debts to pay off."
Ryan stared at his son, studying the hard, unyielding expression on Jake’s face. He saw no trace of panic, only the steady certainty of an executive who weighed political pressure like a standard market variable. A slow, proud smile broke across Ryan’s face, and he reached out, clapping a heavy hand against Jake’s shoulder. "Like I said before, you’ve got your grandfather’s steel in you, Jake. Just make sure you don’t lose your footing."
"Don’t worry, Dad," Jake replied softly. "I’m already making contingency plans."
Through the glass sliding doors behind them, the sound of laughter drifted out onto the terrace. Catherine was standing by the kitchen island, helping Martha pack the remaining lemon bars into a container while Aliya animatedly described a campus incident, using her hands to mimic a chaotic scene. Catherine looked up, her eyes catching Jake’s through the glass, and she offered him a small, radiant smile that completely cut through the coldness of the night.
Jake took one last look at the stormy sky over the city. Turning on his heel, he walked back inside to join his family, leaving the gathering storm behind him in the dark.
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