Free Prove Me Wrong by Gemma Hart Page A

still excited and thrilled to be representing new designers. But she couldn’t help but be a little amused at my nervousness. I could see that.
                  She gave my hand a squeeze. I smiled.
                  Tossing my hair back over my shoulders, I squared myself and we marched towards the building.
                  Getting my pieces bought by Losel would mean absolute success. It would mean that I had made it.
                  Every sacrifice, pain, and hardship would be completely paid off with interest.
                  You can do this, Daniels, I told myself firmly.
                  The doormen in formal tailored gray suits nodded at us as we approached. I could already hear the clinking of glasses and soft jazz music playing from inside.
                  It was time to meet my future.

Chapter Eight
Jonah
                  I tried not to yawn as I took a sip of my whiskey. Was this my second glass? Or my third? I knew I shouldn’t be drinking so much so early in the day but when the day was this fucking monotonous, it was hard not to.
                  I looked around the sleek floor, filled with people chatting and laughing and mingling. I watched the latest batch of prominent home goods designers mingling with their potential future buyers. Most of them were dressed in ridiculous high end fashion. I knew they were hoping to look like some kind of walking piece of art but they looked more like they had tumbled out of a dumpster, wearing whatever stuck.
                  And a lot of them had developed that nasty habit of having a cocky attitude. Some of them had had their pieces written up in the New York Times or had been interviewed by Architectural Digest. Some of them had had celebrities buy their pieces. And some of them were just very self-aggrandizing. Either way, it meant a lot of them had insufferable attitudes.
                  And unfortunately, being the only billionaire in the room meant a lot of those insufferable people were looking directly at me, eyeing for a way in. They all wanted to come speak to me but were all too nervous to do so.
                  Looking over some of their faces, I could tell they were also confused why I was here as well.
                  Normally, I didn’t come to such events. I had people who could come on my behalf.
                  But DXC Global was getting ready to expand their fashion and home ware sectors and that started by buying some of the more profitable companies. We had recently acquired Losel Goods, one of the largest competitors in the market, but I wanted to pick up some smaller boutique companies and expand our luxury lines.
    I wasn’t here to meet the designers; I was here to meet the buyers. I wanted to see them in action and to compare which companies seemed the most daring while still profitable. Who knew how to invest in creativity while still keeping investors in mind?
                  This wasn’t too difficult to do. Most of the buyers were more than willing to be friendly with the President and CEO of DXC Global and owner of Losel Goods. Probably only a few had a vague idea why I was there and those people probably were quite happy. If DXC Global bought their company, it would only mean they would have greater resources and a larger opportunity to grow.
                  I was in the middle of talking with three of the top buyers when I noticed something from the corner of my eye. A flutter of pink.              
                  Taking a sip of my drink, I turned towards the flutter and nearly choked on my whiskey.              
                  Clara.
                  Fucking Christ. It was really her.
                  Clara.
                  As if time had stopped, I stared at the one