2: TWO

"Okay, so, you have your 11:30 meeting with Jonathan, your 2:30 with Amber, and a 4:40 with Merida. I don't know when you'll have time to get food, so I arranged for Uber Eats to come and bring you McDonald's–"

"I love McDonald's," Marisol exclaimed.

Work was the usual today, busy with meetings and case studies. It was hard at times, but Marisol loved what she did. She loved law.

"Yeah, I don't know why." Emilia laughed.

Marisol listened to Emilia's soft laugh. Emilia was Marisol's assistant. They had worked together for a year now and became close friends. Emilia was getting through law school and was interning at Marisol's firm until graduation.

"Oh, and you received a call from some firm called? I thought it was spam, but a man left an invite to lunch today. I said you were in meetings all day. Apparently, his name is Grey."

Marisol immediately stopped typing on her laptop. The keys had brail on them for when she lost track of her typing. It was specially made for people with visual disabilities. "Wait what?" She stood up. Emilia grabbed Marisol's arms to turn her towards her.

"Well, you are in meetings all day."

"Cancel my 11:30, then. And call him back. Schedule him for lunch, okay?"

Marisol couldn't see, but Emilia smirked suggestively. "Is he a secret lover of yours?"

"Believe me, if he was a lover, it wouldn't be a secret."

"Well, who is he then?"

"Can you hand me the Gregory claim?" Emilia searched through the stack of files on Marisol's desk. When she found the file, she handed it to her boss. When the file touched Marisol's hand, she grasped it. All of her cases were imprinted with brail so she could easily read them. In instances where records weren't in brail, Emilia read them to, or she could listen to audio recordings. "Do you remember that crazy idea I had a few months ago?"

"To buy horses and become a rancher?"

"No, but I still think it's a viable option. No, the surrogacy idea."

"Oh right, I didn't think you applied, though."

"Well, I did. I received an acceptance."

"From this guy? What does he look like?"

Marisol gave a look, and Emilia gawked from her ignorance. "Stupid question. I'll call him back and arrange it. I'll cancel your Uber Eats as well. I will have to reschedule your 11:30. How does tomorrow sound?"

"Sounds good."

❥

Hours later, Emilia was leading Marisol out of the firm. She stopped suddenly. Marisol could tell that they were on the sidewalk by the amount of foot traffic around her. She didn't understand why Emilia stopped, though. "Emilia?"

"Uh, there's a chauffeur here with a sign. It says your name... What are the odds that it's from that Grey guy?"

"You're joking," Marisol said. Emilia smiled, leading her boss to the chauffeur, who opened the door for them. Once Marisol was seated into the back of the limo, Emilia stuck her head in.

"Would you like me to come with you?"

"If you wouldn't mind–"

"No, not at all." Emilia smiled, sliding into the back. As they drove through the busy streets, Emilia took out a folded magazine from her purse.

"What issue is that?"

She smiled. "It's GQ. You know who's the cover?" She wiggled her eyes suggestively. "Grey Weston."

Marisol grinned, shaking her head. It was no secret that she enjoyed reading about Mr. Weston. Ever since his company had given her a scholarship to attend law school, she'd had an infatuation with him.

Little did she know exactly how close she was to him.

"The article says that he's thinking about buying an airline. He says he's not looking for a romantic interest at the moment. He decided to liquidate his assets from his car business to combat the coronavirus; he's donating all the funds to research facilities and medical experts. That's nice."

"Yeah, that is," Marisol agreed.

"I still think it's fucked up how we are considered an 'essential business.' Do you think we'll shut down any time soon?"

"Probably not. Who else will defend rich people if we are out of commission?"

Emilia chuckled. "You know, before you put a little parasite in your stomach, you have to experience one last time of drunken escapades."

"You sound like Brad."

"Because we know what's best."

After a few more minutes, the car stopped. The chauffeur came to open the door. Emilia helped Marisol out of the car and walked her inside the restaurant. She helped Marisol sit down and sighed, ordering a coffee as Grey hadn't arrived yet.

"Do you want anything? They have coffee and tea."

"No, I am good."

As Emilia turned to get something out of her purse, Marisol could sense other people come to the table. She smiled as soon as she heard his voice.

"Marisol."

She stood up, holding out her hand. "Mr. Grey."

"Please, it's just Grey."

Emilia turned back and gawked at the men before her. She stood up as well, shocked at who she was looking at.

"And you are?" He asked.

When she didn't answer, Marisol gently hit her arm, thinking she didn't realize he was speaking to her. "M-my name is Emilia." She grabbed her purse and took out the magazine, pointing to it and then him. He simply raised an eyebrow. "This is you?"

"Not the best photo, I admit."

She only gulped. "Marisol I need to talk to you. Over there." Marisol turned to her friend, confused as she was pulled away. Grey wanted to hear what the woman would say to his mate, so he allowed it, sitting down with his Beta.

Emilia pulled Marisol what she thought was far enough where Grey wouldn't hear them. She faced the table so Marisol could freak out if she needed to. "So, uh, what's the last name? O-of that guy?"

"I wasn't allowed to know. I only know his first name because of our meeting. Why? Emilia, what the hell?"

"Right, so, how do I explain this? So, t-the man you're gonna...okay... so–"

"What, Emilia?"

"It's Grey Weston! AKA, the guy who was on the cover of GQ, AKA, the guy who's baby, you're about to push out of your vagina!"

"You're joking," Marisol paled.

"No, no, I am not. Damn, he's even hotter in person. If you change your mind about this surrogacy thing, I'll carry his kid, goddamn–"

"No! I called dibs!"

"Dibs? How old are you?"

"Shut up. How do I act now?"

"Well, how did you act before?"

"Like he wasn't a billionaire!"

"Well, do the same because he's walking toward us." Before she could respond, Emilia turned Marisol to the man who stopped before her. Marisol smiled awkwardly to which Emilia leaned over. "Tone it down."

"Mr. Weston, h-hi. Hi, how are you? I said hi already, I forgot."

Emilia slapped her hand over her own face. Marisol was not great under this type of pressure. The woman could literally argue her way out of hell, but when faced with making conversation, it was like it was the hardest thing to do.

Grey smiled. He truly smiled at her. Maybe if she could see, Marisol wouldn't be so nervous. "I take it you know who I am then?"

"Me?" She asked pointing to herself. "No, not really. Don't know what you're talking about. Who are you?"

"Doing great," Emilia whispered, sarcastically.

"Why don't we sit and have a discussion?"

Nodding, Emilia walked Marisol back to their table. As they sat, drinking and ordering their food, Grey explained. "I need an heir. After attempting to find someone to marry and have children with, I've decided to move forward. As you have figured out, my name is Grey Weston. I am the CEO of a multi-million dollar industry. I started as a broker until I bought my first business at twenty-five."

"How old are you?"

His eyes narrowed for a moment. "I'm thirty-two." Looking at his Beta, he grabbed his personal file. He handed it to Emilia. "This is my file that the agency had me fill out. It has all the information she'd like to know about me." He grabbed Marisol's hand to which she jumped, startled. He placed a piece of paper in her palm.

She raised an eyebrow as she felt the bumps. She smiled once she realized. "This is your number in brail."

"It is. You may call me at any time, Marisol. My entire file is in brail. Some information is quite personal, so I didn't want anyone reading it to you. If it is alright, I would like to move forward with a doctor's appointment next week."

Marisol bit her lip, nodding. She could hear someone talk, but couldn't hear what was being said. She could hear a chair be pushed backward, and Grey put on his jacket. "I have to go now. I'm sorry I will not be able to finish lunch with you. I will call you tonight."

Before he left, he left a single, small sunflower on the table. As he left with his partner, Emilia grabbed it and handed it to Marisol. "He left it for you."

Once they finished eating, another limo was waiting for them outside. As they drove, Marisol leaned her head against the window. "Can you tell me what he looks like?"

Emilia turned to her friend. Sometimes she forgot how much Marisol couldn't experience. In part, it was because Marisol was always happy; she never acted as if her blindness was a negative thing.

"He was...dangerously handsome," she started. "Dark hair that was very well-manicured with some facial hair."

"Does it look good?"

"Some men cannot pull off facial hair, but he can. He had these light brown eyes that reminded me of honey when the light hit them. A strong jawline with thick lips."

"Does he have any tattoos? Piercings? Scars?"

"Not from what I could see."

"How does he dress?"

"He dresses like a businessman. He was wearing a dark blue button-down and black slacks with this expensive watch. He was so tall, Marisol, and looked so strong. He had broad shoulders that made his shirt so tight against his chest. Girl, he has abs, I'm telling you. If I'm wrong, you can sue me."

Marisol laughed.

"I wish you could see him."

She turned back toward the window. "Me too," she whispered.