He didn't need a wife, a family, a traditional path. He had his own way, his own destiny, and he was determined to carve it out, brick by brick, ship by ship, deal by deal. He was Caelan Cambridge, the CEO of Marina Shipping, and he was not afraid to break the mold, to defy expectations, to build a legacy on his own terms.
 He drained his glass, the last drop of scotch leaving a warm burn in his throat. His eyes, sharp and focused, reflected the ambition that burned within him. He knew what he had to do. He would build his empire, secure his legacy, and leave his mark on the world. He was Caelan Cambridge, and he was not going to let anyone, not even his mother, hold him back...
 Caelan's reverie shattered as the sound of the penthouse door opening sliced through the quiet of his apartment. He let out a sigh, a mixture of resignation and weary amusement. It could only be one person.
 "Garrett," he muttered, his voice low and resigned.
 He didn't bother to get up. He knew his friend would waltz in, ignore the silent invitation to leave, and proceed to make himself at home.
 And sure enough, Garrett, as always, sauntered in with the air of someone who owned the place. He tossed a duffel bag onto the couch, his eyes scanning the room with a practiced familiarity.
 "You look like you've had a rough day," Garrett remarked, his voice a low rumble, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Another disastrous blind date, perhaps?"
 Caelan snorted, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You know me too well," he said, reaching for his glass of scotch. "My mother's relentless campaign to find me a wife is getting a little tiring."
 Garrett chuckled, pulling a bottle of beer from his duffel bag. "You're never going to escape her clutches, old man," he said, shaking his head. "She's determined to find you a suitable mate, someone who can produce the next generation of Cambridge heirs."
 Caelan rolled his eyes. "Heirs?" he scoffed. "My legacy isn't about bloodlines, Garrett. It's about the company, the empire I'm building."
 Garrett nodded, his gaze focused on Caelan, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "I know," he said softly. "You're a force of nature, Caelan. You're relentless, ambitious, driven. You're everything your mother wants you to be, just not in the way she expects."
 Caelan took a long sip of his scotch, the amber liquid warming his throat. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a criticism," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
 "It's both," Garrett replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. You're my best friend, my brother from another mother, and I'd rather have you focused on building your empire than on some ridiculous marriage plot."
 Caelan grinned, his worries momentarily forgotten. "That's what I like to hear," he said, reaching for another glass of scotch. "Now, tell me all about your latest escapades. I hear you've been making some waves in the art world."
 The two friends settled into their usual routine, their conversation flowing seamlessly, punctuated by laughter, shared memories, and the unspoken bond of a lifetime of friendship. The penthouse, once a silent testament to Caelan's solitude, was now alive with their shared laughter, their shared dreams, their shared history.
 Caelan, for a fleeting moment, felt a sense of contentment, a warmth that spread through his chest. He had his work, his ambition, his legacy, and now he had Garrett, his best friend, his confidante, his brother. He may be a ruthless businessman, a driven CEO, but he was also a man, a friend, a son, and he was not alone. And for that, for the warmth of this shared space, for the comfort of this unwavering friendship, he was grateful...
 =================================
 ELISE.
 The air crackled with a mixture of anticipation and excitement as Elise stepped into the hidden room. It was a sanctuary of style, a secret haven tucked away behind a wall of shimmering fabric in the heart of the Garrett Armani Couture shop. The room was a symphony of color and texture, a kaleidoscope of exquisite fabrics, a treasure trove of haute couture.
 "Welcome to Armani's secret playground," Rachel whispered, her voice awed by the sheer extravagance of the space. "This is where magic happens."
 Elise, still reeling from the sheer opulence of the hidden room, couldn't help but agree. The walls were lined with racks upon racks of garments, each one a masterpiece of artistry and craftsmanship. Dresses, suits, gowns, jackets, a rainbow of styles and colors, all crafted from the finest materials imaginable. It was like a fairytale come to life, a fashion fantasyland where every woman's wildest dreams could come true.
 "Alright, Elise," Rachel said, her voice brimming with excitement, "Let's get started! Imagine what we can do with this unlimited credit card!"
 Elise, still feeling a mixture of exhilaration and a touch of trepidation, nodded, her eyes scanning the room with a newfound determination. She had never imagined herself in such a place, surrounded by such extravagance. But now, fueled by a sense of purpose and a fierce desire to prove Caelan wrong, she was ready to embrace the challenge, to transform herself into the embodiment of his ideal "perfect secretary."
 "We're going to create a look that will make Caelan speechless," Rachel declared, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "We're going to make him regret underestimating you."
 "I know, right?" Elise replied, her voice laced with excitement. "I'm going to show him that I can play his game, and I'm going to win."
 Rachel, already deep in a rack of gowns, pulled out a shimmering emerald number, its fabric so luxurious it felt like silk against her skin. "Look at this, Elise! This would be perfect for the gala. It's elegant, bold, and just a little bit daring. It's exactly the kind of look that will make him take notice."