“Eleonora, Bertrand here from Immo Clé. I’m calling to let you know that I’m running late. I wanted to call you earlier, but I hadn’t saved your number beforehand, so it was a bit of a hassle to find it. I had an emergency, the school called to let me know one of the kids got sick. My ex couldn’t make it, so I had to rush back and forth to drop my son off at my parents’ place. Rush… well, not really, there was an accident on the highway, and everything’s at a standstill here. I’m afraid I won’t make it. I’ve sent my client a few messages to let him know. I hope you’ve already met him? Andreas De Graeve, CEO of B-Tech. Is he there yet?”
As Bertrand’s explanation unfolds, the puzzle pieces start falling into place, one by one. I thought Andreas was Bertrand, and he, in turn, thought it was funny to make a game out of it.
This moment is crucial for my career. I went out of my way to make a good impression, did my homework thoroughly, and gave it my all—while Mr. De Graeve thought it was amusing to toy with me? I addressed him as Bertrand, and he didn’t even correct me? A wave of anger rises in me, stronger than I’d like, but impossible to suppress. My subconscious self flashes back to the betrayal I felt due to David and that bimbo, with her panties in my washing machine. Andreas played me completely, and I can’t help but feel humiliated, belittled, and ashamed. I swore I wouldn’t let this happen again. I promised myself I wouldn’t feel this way ever again. I thought I’d gotten better at spotting people who take advantage of my good nature. Apparently not.
Mr. De Graeve is one of those smooth operators who seem to get everything they want: too much money, too many privileges, and the illusion that they can manipulate a woman with the snap of their fingers. Another piece of the puzzle falls into place. I’m done with men, especially ones like him. Not that David was this kind of rich, egocentric guy, but I know the stereotype all too well. For a moment—just a moment—Andreas had me under his spell. And for a moment, I thought there might have been something between us. Maybe that’s why I’m so angry with him right now. It makes it worse.
I was his little amusement for thirty minutes, but that ends right now.
“Andreas De Graeve? Yes, he has indeed arrived. Don’t worry, these things happen. I’ll wrap things up here, and we’ll talk later. Mr. De Graeve didn’t have much time anyway, so we just finished the tour, and he’s about to leave.”
I speak that last sentence and hang up while looking him straight in the eye. The smile has disappeared from his face. I think he got the message. Good.
Or not good? I’m not sure. Is he a serious candidate for this property? I think so. I’ve definitely heard of B-Tech, a hugely successful software company based in Bruges. Am I really about to throw away a potential multi-million deal because my pride’s been wounded? Should I stand by my principles, or swallow my ego and let the deal go forward? Was what he did truly so bad, or am I just overreacting?
I’m so worked up that I don’t feel capable of answering these questions rationally, but my body makes the decision for me. I feel a mild panic attack coming on: my ears are ringing, and I start to feel a bit dizzy. The last thing I want is for him to have to help me breathe into a paper bag, so I stick to my first instinctive reaction.
“I think it’s best if you leave now,” I say with a bit more feigned confidence.
“Nora, are you serious? I really didn’t mean anything bad by it. You addressed me as Bertrand, and I didn’t get the chance to correct you. After that, it seemed so awkward to bring it up. We were having a nice tour, and I didn’t want to ruin it. I’m genuinely interested in this house,” Andreas replies. This is the most he has said since we’ve met, and his voice immediately creeps under my skin. It’s so rich, deep, and velvety. Each word feels deliberate, weaving its way into my thoughts. It sounds unbelievable after this whole debacle, but his explanation does seem sincere.
Even if I wanted to, I’m not capable of finishing this tour. I feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I don’t want him to see the effect he’s having on me. Of all the moments in the past two years, my past had to resurface right now. I’m so angry with myself. I want to be stronger than this, but I can’t, and I don’t want him to notice.
“I suggest you contact Bertrand if you’re interested in the property. We’ll handle everything further if you decide to make an offer,” I say hurriedly, avoiding his gaze.
Instead of waiting for his response, I walk briskly toward the front door. I open it for him so he can’t misunderstand the message. I still don’t look at him as he passes me and stops in the doorway. I feel his gaze on me and the heavy atmosphere between us. Instead of saying anything, there’s silence for a few seconds. I notice the tension in his body and hear the irritation in his breathing. Then he leaves.
This doesn’t feel like a relief. I hate conflicts; I always avoid them. I haven’t had to deal with something like this in years. I’m the type of person who gets physically uncomfortable if someone cuts in line at the checkout, but ultimately says or does nothing because it’s not worth the argument. I’m proud that I stood my ground, but I don’t feel better because of it.
He gets into his BMW, slams the door shut forcefully, and then maneuvers out of the parking spot. With a stern look ahead, jaw clenched, and at a considerable speed, he leaves the property. He’s clearly furious. I’m not even worth a glance anymore. I’m so confused. The last half hour of my life has been an emotional roller coaster, and I can’t believe I just let my ultimate chance at professional success drive away.
Chapter 4
Andreas
She’s as infuriating as she is fascinating. I can’t believe she just sent me packing. I was ready to make an offer today, for heaven’s sake, and finalize the purchase this week. Was what I did really so bad? I feel the anger rising inside me. I’m driving faster than I should, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles are turning white. I can’t remember the last time someone dismissed me like that.
I start formulating a plan because I still want to buy the villa, preferably before any other buyers swoop in. I want to avoid this turning into a bidding war, which could cost me a fortune. I need to know who Nora is and how I can convince her to sell me that house. If I’m being honest, I also want to know why she reacted so strongly, why she got emotional, and why she’s willing to let this deal slip away because of it. I have to give her credit. She’s not after my money, and that’s a refreshing change from the usual vultures. A woman who sets high standards for those around her—I have to admire that.
Eric works exclusively for B-Tech, overseeing everything related to the company’s security, including my personal safety. He designed a high-tech alarm system for the office building and handles all matters of cybersecurity. If I don’t trust someone, Eric is the first to know. I trust him with my life. He has a degree in bioengineering and is a former soldier. After serving a year in the military, he transitioned to the police force. Eric is intelligent and knows how to get things done. Unfortunately, an infected gunshot wound in his leg ended his career. It took months of treatment and rehab, and while he’s fully mobile today, the injury left him with a slight limp and ended his career with the Belgian federal police. At the time, my company was on the brink of success, and that success apparently comes with its own risks. Eric was the right man at the right time. We’ve known each other for at least fifteen years because we spent part of our childhood in the same foster home. Eric is the same age as me and knows me inside out. He’s the one person I can’t fool. He has a great sense of humor but rarely laughs. He doesn’t have anyone in his life except me and his brown German Shepherd, Spike. Time to give him a call.
“Eric, I need your help. I don’t have time to explain everything, but I want you to find out everything you can about Nora Dewolf. She’s a real estate agent in Bruges, and that’s all I really know. I want to know where she lives, who she hangs out with, what kind of person she is—everything, got it?”
“Is she a threat, Andreas? What context am I working with here?” Eric asks seriously.
“No threat this time, and no context needed, Eric. I’m handling this one on my own,” I say curtly.
“Got it, Andreas. I’ll start digging and send you what I find as soon as possible.”
I thank Eric and instruct my BMW to call the next person on my list: Donna. She’s my personal assistant and pretty much runs my entire life. She’s been working for me for four years and has made herself indispensable in that time. It’s a privilege to be surrounded by capable people like Donna. Usually, she’s already taken care of things before I even know I need them. She’s petite, slender, and a bit older, and at first glance, she seems timid, but her appearance is deceiving. She’s assertive, confident, and incredibly efficient. A woman who truly gets things done, and since she works for me, I benefit from her no-nonsense approach every day. Donna earns more than the average manager in my company—they’d be shocked if they knew how much—but she’s worth every penny.
“Donna, what’s on my agenda for tomorrow?” I ask.
“Let’s see, tomorrow morning you have a haircut at 10 a.m. and don’t even think about canceling it—it’s long overdue!” she says sternly.
Only Donna can get away with saying things like that to me.
“At 11 a.m., you have the weekly brunch meeting with the development team. At 2 p.m., there’s an applicant coming in for a final interview—HR is already convinced. At 4 p.m., there’s a meeting to fine-tune next week’s launch. After that…”
