District 8 – International City, 9:00 AM
Elena Hart paused at the entrance of Lumière Tower, a forty-five-story glass monolith in the heart of the city. The spring air was tinged with the scent of roasted coffee and fresh concrete. Her eyes traced the penthouse balcony high above—the space she would soon show to a potential buyer.
But this was no ordinary visit. The owner of the unit was none other than Cassian Vale.
A name that graced not only the covers of luxury real estate magazines but also the front pages of global business news. CEO of Vale International Developments. Sole heir of the Vale family, a real estate dynasty that owned premium land across three continents.
And for reasons she didn’t understand, Cassian had agreed to let Elena, a completely independent agent with no major firm backing, bring a buyer to his private penthouse.
She took a deep breath and entered the lobby. The security guard gave a silent nod and escorted her to the private elevator—no buttons, no stops. Just one destination: the top floor.
When the doors opened, the silence that greeted her was wrapped in luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered an uninterrupted view of the glittering skyline, the harbor, and even the mountains far beyond.
In the center of the room stood Cassian Vale.
Tall, effortlessly dressed in a crisp white linen shirt and tailored grey pants. His dark brown hair was slightly tousled, and his eyes held a calm, unwavering intensity.
“You’re early,” he said plainly.
Elena offered a cool smile. “I’m always early. The market doesn’t wait.”
He tilted his head, observing her. “Interesting.”
He turned and walked to the open-concept kitchen, firing up the espresso machine.
“Your client?”
“On the way. Malaysian, quiet, private collector. Interested in converting this space into a hybrid gallery and residence.”
Cassian nodded. “You’re not with a big-name firm.”
“No,” Elena replied calmly. “I built my own agency. Small, but focused.”
He glanced at her over the edge of his espresso cup. “Plenty of agents tried to bring clients here. Why should I let you?”
She met his gaze. “Because I’m not selling property. I match needs with space. And I know this unit isn’t just a place—it’s a statement.”
Cassian was quiet for a moment. Then, the faintest hint of a smile curved his lips. “Good answer.”
A soft chime sounded from the smart tablet on the kitchen counter. A visitor had just entered the lobby.
“Eliza Monroe,” Elena confirmed. “She only needs fifteen minutes. The rest is up to you.”
Cassian nodded. “Fine.”
The viewing went smoothly. Eliza admired the view, the layout, and the materials. She even seemed ready to put down a deposit on the spot.
But just before she could make the offer, Cassian raised a hand.
“I’ll consider your price,” he said. “But I only accept one number. No negotiations.”
Eliza blinked. “One-time offer?”
He nodded. “One. If it’s right, we move forward. If not, I don’t sell.”
After Eliza left, Elena turned to him. “You’re serious about that rule?”
Cassian folded his arms. “I don’t sell because I need money. I sell because I’m curious who knows the value without second-guessing.”
“Including me?” she asked.
He gave her a half-smile. “You only get one chance too, Elena.”
That night, back at her apartment on the city’s quieter side, Elena stood at the window. Far in the distance, Lumière Tower shimmered like a gold-tipped needle piercing the sky.
Why had Cassian chosen her? Why not go through his own agents? Why offer such intimate access to someone he barely knew?
The questions were growing. Not just professionally—but personally.
The next morning, a message appeared in her inbox:
From: cassian.vale@valegrp.com
Subject: Coffee.11:00. Tomorrow. Arrière Café, District 5. Don’t be late.
– C.V.
Arrière Café – 11:03 AM
Cassian sat in the corner, absorbed in reports on his black tablet. When Elena arrived, he looked up and gestured to the chair across from him.
“Your black coffee’s already ordered,” he said casually.
Elena sat, crossing her legs. “I don’t usually have coffee with clients.”
Cassian smirked. “I don’t usually get sold by boutique agents.”
“You’re not for sale. The space is.”
“And yet… the space felt different with you in it.”
She almost replied with sarcasm, but something in his tone stopped her. It wasn’t flirtation—it was measured, deliberate. Like a man calculating his next move with brutal precision.
“What are you really looking for from someone like me?” she asked.
Cassian stared for a second. “Honesty. When you came in, you didn’t oversell. You didn’t promise the stars. You showed up, and you did your job.”
“That’s the bare minimum for a professional.”
He nodded. “It’s also rare.”
He leaned back. “I’m scouting for a new project. Location still undetermined. But I need someone on the ground. Someone fast. Sharp. Someone I don’t need to micromanage.”
Elena narrowed her eyes. “Is this a job offer?”
“It’s not.” His voice lowered. “It’s… a human investment.”
In the weeks that followed, Elena found herself more and more entangled with Cassian. They discussed markets, green developments, and design philosophy. They met at galleries, spoke on calls, sometimes over drinks after networking events.
What began as business… started to blur.
One evening, after a city redevelopment launch, they stood side by side on a rooftop bar, watching the skyline shimmer in the dark.
“You know,” Cassian said quietly, “I grew up believing everyone has an angle. Business partners. Women. Even friends.”
Elena turned. “And me?”
“You might be the only one who wants nothing from me—except a fair chance.”
He looked at her. “Which makes me want to give you more.”
Their eyes locked. Neither of them spoke.
At that moment, there was no billionaire. No agent.
Just two people—choosing each other, quietly.
Three Months Later
Elena officially joined Cassian’s new international project—not as an assistant, but as an operational partner. Her name began circulating through the real estate world. Her firm grew, her status soared.
But what truly caught public attention? Their relationship.
The media buzzed with speculation.
Still, Cassian never confirmed anything.
Until one day, during a televised interview on international business, the host asked:
“Rumor has it you’re involved with an independent agent who became your business partner. Any comment on that?”
Cassian smiled faintly. “I believe in one thing. In life, you only need one offer.”
“If you know the value,” he continued, eyes locked on the camera, “you don’t need to negotiate twice.”
THE END
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