Carter's car pulled up to the monolithic Vega Corporation building, the glass and steel reflecting the overcast sky. The place looked less like a company headquarters and more like a fortress you needed permission to approach. Lina took a steadying breath, adjusting Lucas's oversized jacket over her stupidly fancy dress. This was just work. Professional. No drama.
They walked through the gleaming, silent lobby, past the security desk where they were already expected, and straight to the private elevator. The familiarity of the route was its own kind of unsettling. They'd walked this path before, under very different, more hopeful circumstances. Liam was standing outside the designated conference room door, looking characteristically poised. "Mr. Carter, Miss Johnson. You're right on time. Mr. Viggo just arrived and is inside with the legal and finance teams."
Hearing that Daniel was already inside made Lina's heart give an unpleasant little squeeze. But she shoved the feeling down. Why did his name make her feel like this? They were only here for work. For a sign-off meeting. Get a grip, she told herself. There was no need to be dramatic.
They entered. The room was all cool light, dark wood, and cold air. Daniel Viggo was seated at the head of the long table, flanked by a woman from legal and a man from finance. He was looking at his phone, his expression one of detached focus. At the sound of the door, he glanced up.
His gaze swept over Carter first, acknowledging him with a slight nod. Then it moved to Lina. For a fraction of a second, it was neutral, assessing. Then his eyes dropped to the jacket she wore—a man's jacket, clearly, the way it dwarfed her frame—and his expression froze. A cold, hard blankness settled over his features. It was like watching a lake freeze over in an instant. He looked from the jacket back to her face, and a muscle in his jaw tightened. His lips curved into a smile, but it was a thin, sharp thing, devoid of any warmth. Looks like they're showing their affection publicly now, his icy stare seemed to say.
A strange, heavy silence descended. Even the legal aide seemed to shift in her seat. The temperature in the room felt like it had dropped ten degrees. Lina instinctively pulled the jacket tighter, suddenly feeling a chill she hadn't noticed outside. She and Carter gave general nods to Daniel and the others, then took their seats at the opposite end of the table.
The meeting started. It was a dry, complex affair of legal clauses, distribution timelines, and marketing budgets. Lina made sure not to interrupt or draw attention to herself, because it became immediately clear she wasn't actually needed. Vega had called for her presence, but now that she was here, she was treated as part of the scenery—a mandatory ornament. She'd thought maybe she'd be asked to confirm a source or detail a scent note, but no one so much as looked her way. She was just a background figure, and a fucking boring one at that. She let her mind wander, thinking about the strange comfort of Lucas's penthouse, the weird, impersonal kindness he'd shown. The three-hour meeting felt like it lasted a decade.
Finally, at 3:50 PM, the last document was signed. Daniel scrawled his signature on the final page with a sharp, decisive stroke. The deal was done. 'Oblivion' was officially a Vega product. There were tight, professional smiles around the table. Lina felt nothing but relief that it was over. She realized, with a jolt, that she hadn't absorbed a single concrete detail in the last two hours.
They filed out of the room. Carter was already on his phone, murmuring about next steps. Lina, feeling stiff and invisible, followed a few steps behind. Just as they turned a corner into the main executive hallway, a young man in a Vega maintenance uniform, head down and rushing, came barreling around the opposite corner.
He collided with Lina before she could react.
A scalding wave of liquid hit her chest and stomach. She gasped, jumping back. The man had been carrying a full, lidded cup of coffee, which was now dripping down the front of her emerald silk dress and onto the marble floor.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! So, so sorry!" the worker stammered, his face pale with horror.
Carter was at her side in an instant. "Lina! Are you burned?"
The coffee was hot, but the dress had taken the worst of it. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she said, though her skin was stinging. The dark stain was already spreading across the green silk. Of course, she thought with a surge of pure, frustrated irony. This fucking dress was a magnet for stains.
"You need to rinse that off, right now," the worker insisted, his voice frantic. "It's fresh, it's really hot. There's a washroom just down this hall, on the left. Please, go now before it sets."
Lina hesitated. This was the executive floor. The washrooms here were private, likely for the senior staff. She was an outsider, and a coffee-stained one at that.
"Go on," Carter said, his mind already back on the signed deal. "I'll wait for you in the car downstairs. Just be quick." He gave her a distracted pat on the shoulder and headed for the elevator.
The worker gestured urgently. "Really, miss, please. I'll get this cleaned up." He looked so genuinely distressed that Lina gave in.
"Fine. Okay."
She pushed into the restroom. It was pristine and cold, all marble and chrome, like a showroom. She rushed to the sink, shrugging out of lucas jacket. She grabbed wads of paper towels, wet them with cold water, and dabbed frantically at the stain. She managed to lighten it from a dark brown to a faint, shitty tan, but it was still obvious. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. She picked up Lucas's jacket, which had mercifully been spared, and shrugged it back on, covering the evidence.
She looked up into the mirror to adjust the collar.
Her blood ran cold.
Her breath caught in her throat.
And froze.
Reflected behind her, was Daniel Viggo. He was leaning against the door he had closed, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was stone, but his eyes… his eyes were a winter storm. He hadn't made a sound.
A violent tremor locked Lina's joints. She couldn't turn. She couldn't breathe. She was a rabbit in a snare, staring at the hunter in the glass.
He pushed off the door and took a step forward, his presence sucking all the air out of the small, opulent room. "Carter's not enough for you anymore? Had to find a new patron?" he said, his voice low and dangerously smooth.
Lina's mouth opened. Nothing emerged but a faint, desiccated gasp. "I…" It was a dry leaf of a sound. Her mind short-circuited, wiped clean by sheer, paralyzing shock.
His gaze raked over the clearly-male jacket she was clutching closed. "That's his, isn't it? You left his bed this morning and came straight here to climb into mine?"
The accusation was so vile, so far from the humiliating truth, that for a second, Lina was speechless. She just stared at him, her mouth open.
"I… it's not… you have it all wrong—" she stammered, heat flooding her cheeks.
"I don't care," he cut her off, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "Is your ambition that tragically, desperately cheap?" He took another step, looming over her. "Did you think a pretty dress would grant you an audience in my bed? Are you that fucking desperate?"
The accusations landed like punches. She tried to shake her head, to force out a denial, to explain about the coffee, about anything. But her vocal cords were paralyzed. All she could do was stare, wide-eyed and helpless, at his furious reflection.
He saw the attempt and dismissed it. A flash of pure, unadulterated disgust crossed his face. "Get out," he commanded, the words slicing through the perfumed air.
"But I—" she tried again, anger beginning to replace the shock.
He didn't let her finish. In one swift movement, he yanked the door open, and before she could even process it, he put a firm hand on her shoulder and shoved her out into the empty corridor. The heavy door slammed shut behind her with a final, echoing thud that sounded like a gunshot.
Lina stumbled, catching herself against the opposite wall. She stood there, breath coming in shallow gasps, the heat of humiliation burning hotter than the coffee ever had. She stared at the polished wood of the door, her body trembling with a surge of fury so intense it turned her vision sharp and clear.
She wanted to kick it open. She wanted to scream in his face. She wanted to tell him he was a paranoid, arrogant bastard, that she'd been spilled on, that she wouldn't climb into his bed if he was the last man on earth and it was filled with cash.
But her feet, betraying her rage, carried her down the hall. By the time she reached the elevator, she was muttering a furious, tearless litany under her breath. "You utter piece of shit… Who the hell do you think you are… Fucking monster…" She jabbed the down button.
The ride down was a silent, furious storm. "You arrogant, condescending, fucking asshole," she seethed under her breath, her hands clenched into fists. "Who the hell do you think you are? I wasn't doing anything! You psycho! I hate you!" By the time she pushed through the revolving doors and saw Carter's car, the violent rage had burned itself out, hardening into a heavy, sick lump of shame and powerless frustration in her gut. She felt… hollowed out.
She slid into the passenger seat. Carter looked over. "Everything okay? Get the stain out?"
Lina forced a smile, the muscles in her face aching with the effort. "Fine. It's fine. Just a mess."
She was about to say something else, maybe ask about next steps, when her phone in her clutch began to vibrate incessantly.
She pulled it out. The screen was lit up with notifications.
Bella: OBLIVION IS OFFICIAL!!! CONGRATS GENIUS!!
Mom: Just saw the news! We're so proud of you, honey!
Sammy Bishop: Deal sealed! The woman of the hour!
Confused, Lina tapped on a link Bella had sent. It opened to a major business news site. The headline blared:
AURUM SCENTS & VEGA CORP. OFFICIALLY SEAL LANDMARK DEAL FOR 'OBLIVION'
There, below the headline, was a professional photo taken in the boardroom just minutes ago. It showed Carter and Daniel shaking hands across the table. And in the background, slightly blurry but unmistakable, was her. Lina Johnson, sitting at the table, wearing an emerald dress and a look of detached professionalism, right at the heart of a multi-million dollar deal.
She stared at the photo. The anger, the humiliation in the bathroom, Daniel's cruel words—it all receded, muted by the sudden, roaring reality of the text messages, the congratulations, the proof.
A slow, real smile touched her lips as she started typing replies. She let the stream of congratulatory messages pull her into a different reality, one where she was a success, not someone just shoved out of a bathroom.