Predator in a Suit
By GIANCARLO
Forty-eight hours sounded short until you had to live inside them.
Elena tried not to check her inbox every ten minutes.
She failed.
The first morning after sending the portfolio, she arrived at the office earlier than usual. Not because she was anxious. Because she told herself preparation was productive.
She reorganized client folders.
Updated listing photos.
Called back two minor leads she would normally schedule for later in the week.
Anything to avoid staring at the top of her screen.
Vale Holdings.
It was absurd how a corporate name could alter the rhythm of a room. Stephen pretended he wasn't waiting. Lila pretended she didn't care. But every time someone's email notification chimed, there was a fractional pause in conversation.
By midday, Elena forced herself to step away.
She walked two blocks past the diner she normally visited and chose a smaller café tucked between a pharmacy and a tailor shop. Quieter. Fewer suits. Fewer reminders of Dockside.
She ordered black coffee and sat near the window, phone face down on the table.
It wasn't about pride.
It was about control.
If Vale rejected them, she would adjust. If they selected another firm, she would pivot. That was how business worked.
Still, something about the acquisition unsettled her.
Not emotionally.
Strategically.
Dockside had been targeted with precision. It wasn't random expansion. It was deliberate positioning. Whoever structured that deal knew exactly which municipal pressure points to leverage.
Men like Adrian Vale did not move unless they saw ten steps ahead.
And that meant anyone interacting with his orbit needed to be careful.
Her phone vibrated.
She didn't reach for it immediately.
When she did, it wasn't Vale.
It was her mother.
"Elena, I spoke to your aunt. She said you were at some high-profile event this week?"
Her jaw tightened slightly. News traveled fast in small family circles.
"It was just a work function."
"With important people?"
"With investors."
Her mother hesitated. "You work too much."
"I work enough."
"You're twenty-six."
"And?"
"And life isn't only contracts."
Elena leaned back in her chair and stared out the window.
She loved her mother.
But there was always an undercurrent to these conversations. Marriage. Stability. Settling.
Her life was stable.
It just didn't look romantic.
"I'm fine," she said quietly.
"Just don't let ambition make you lonely."
The call ended gently.
The words lingered.
Lonely was not a word she allowed space for.
Independence required sacrifice. That was the trade.
Back at the office, the second day passed slower.
Stephen called her into his office near closing.
"If Vale declines us, it's not a reflection of your performance."
"I know."
"I mean it."
She nodded once.
He wasn't wrong. But it still mattered.
That night, she stayed late, revisiting the portfolio she had already sent. Looking for weaknesses that might not even exist.
She did not want the opportunity because of Adrian Vale.
She wanted it because she refused to plateau.
Across the city, inside a building that reflected nothing but glass and authority, Clara placed a folder on Adrian's desk.
"Agency shortlist," she said.
He skimmed the summary without urgency.
Mid-tier firms.
Regional players.
Market performance ratios.
He wasn't looking for charisma.
He was looking for reliability.
He paused briefly at one firm's data.
Consistent close rates.
Minimal legal disputes.
Strong neighborhood retention.
"Flag this one," he said.
Clara glanced down.
"Rossi & Partners."
He nodded once.
"Schedule evaluation meeting."
He didn't ask who the lead agent was.
He didn't need to.
For him, it was about numbers.
Back in her apartment, Elena was brushing her teeth when her phone buzzed again.
This time she felt it in her chest.
She wiped her hands and walked into the living room before checking.
Vale Holdings.
She opened the message.
Subject: Evaluation Confirmation.
Your firm has been shortlisted for formal assessment regarding Dockside secondary distribution.
Further details will follow.
Her breathing slowed deliberately.
Shortlisted.
Not selected.
Not dismissed.
Shortlisted.
It was progress.
It was risk.
It was entry into a space she had never occupied.
She set the phone down carefully.
Not smiling.
Not celebrating.
Just thinking.
Somewhere in the process of corporate restructuring and expansion, her firm had moved from invisible to relevant.
That was enough for now.
She walked to the window and looked out at the city.
Same lights.
Same skyline.
But something subtle had shifted.
Not because of a man.
Because of opportunity.
And opportunity, unlike romance, did not wait.