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Chapter 20 - Elena Negotiates

The ballroom at Marina Bay Sands in Singapore buzzed with ambition. Venture capitalists, fund managers, and tech entrepreneurs mingled under crystal chandeliers, their conversations drifting through the golden light. It was a gala disguised as a networking event, where deals started over champagne and quiet words. I stood at the edge of the crowd, sipping sparkling water to stay sharp. My husband, Daniel, was back in California running our fund’s operations, but he supported whatever I needed to do to secure this allocation, as long as we stuck to our rules: women only, and only if it served the greater good. Tonight, that meant trying to land a $500 million commitment from Apex Ventures for Calder Analytics. The key decision-maker was Victoria Jones.

I spotted her across the room, and our eyes met right away. There was an instant spark between us. It was our first meeting. Victoria Jones, 36, was a senior partner and rainmaker at Apex Ventures’ Asia-Pacific branch. She specialized in high-stakes venture syndications, biotech and tech investments, and bold deals. She had negotiated billion-dollar co-investments with global funds. Victoria grew up in Seattle in a creative, upper-middle-class family, studied finance and accounting, then moved to San Francisco and quickly rose in venture capital. She was naturally confident, ruthless and ambitious at work, and always took charge in negotiations and social settings. That confidence carried into her personal life. In her twenties and thirties, she had casual partners of different genders, meeting discreetly in apartments and hotels. For her, these experiences were about exploring sensuality and light power play, usually taking the lead and guiding mutual pleasure and subtle control, not full dominance or submission.

Victoria stood near a group of investors, her tall, athletic build showing both confidence and elegance. Her deep cocoa skin glowed under the chandelier, warm and smooth. The black dress fit her perfectly, hinting at her toned figure. She had a narrow waist, full hips, and a firm, rounded shape that moved with each step. Her legs were long and strong, with defined calves and soft, firm thighs. Everything about her drew attention and admiration.

Her face was striking, with high cheekbones, full lips, and a wide smile that could shift from sweet to mischievous in a moment. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were dark brown with golden flecks, framed by thick lashes. Her long, coiled hair fell past her shoulders and carried a soft scent of shea butter and coconut oil. Victoria’s presence was magnetic. She was confident and open, comfortable giving and receiving affection, and her energy filled the room.

We’d wrapped the formal meeting an hour ago, but Victoria suggested drinks in her luxury apartment to “iron out the last details.” I accepted. As we sat on the couch with glasses of chilled Riesling, I steered the conversation from risk models to something more personal. “You seem tense, Victoria,” I said. “These deals can be exhausting. Let me help you relax.”

She laughed softly, but her gaze dropped to my crossed legs. “You’re one to talk, Elena. You’ve been pushing hard all day.” I leaned forward, letting my blouse gape slightly. Her breath caught, nipples likely hardening under her blouse, skin beading with that subtle rose-vanilla perspiration. “Pushing is what I do best,” I replied, my voice low and husky. I set my glass down and reached for hers, our fingers brushing. The touch lingered. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” I whispered, my lips inches from hers.

She closed the gap, kissing me tentatively at first, soft, exploratory. I took control then, deepening it, my tongue sliding against hers. She tasted of wine and restraint, cracking open; her hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer. I backed her toward the bed, shedding my jacket, then hers, our bodies pressing together. Her full and firm breasts pressed against mine through our blouses, nipples already peaked and darkened to dusky rose. I unbuttoned hers slowly, kissing down her neck, sucking at the pulse point until she gasped, her head tilting back, her skin flushing a darker rose along her collarbones.

“Elena… God…” she murmured. I smiled against her skin. I pushed her gently onto the bed. Climbing over her, my skirt hiked up to my thighs.

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