Aria had survived the "Reply All" apocalypse, but her reputation in the office was still shaky. Every time she walked past someone's desk, she caught a smirk or a whispered joke about sandals. Even Greg from accounting had upgraded from muffins to dramatically hiding his socks whenever she approached.
So when her supervisor dropped a thick folder on her desk Monday morning and said, "You're helping with the quarterly presentation today," Aria's soul nearly left her body.
"Me?" she squeaked. "I—I just started. Don't you think someone more… qualified… should do it?"
Her supervisor, a woman named Lila who radiated efficiency like a military general, didn't even blink. "You'll be fine. Just load the slides. Try not to break anything."
Try not to break anything, Aria repeated like a curse as she followed Lila into the conference room later that afternoon.
The space was sleek and intimidating, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. At the head of the long polished table sat Damian Wolfe himself, radiating authority in his perfectly tailored suit. Across from him were three of the company's biggest clients, their briefcases neatly aligned, their expressions politely bored.
Aria slid into the chair behind the projector, clutching the USB stick like it was a holy relic. Okay, Aria, she coached herself, you're just clicking through slides. No email disasters. No public rants. Just click. Breathe. Smile.
The meeting began smoothly. Lila opened with a crisp introduction, her voice confident, her gestures sharp. The clients nodded along, sipping their water. Aria exhaled. This is fine. Totally fine.
Then it was time for the slides.
She inserted the USB, clicked on the file, and projected it onto the massive wall screen. The first slide appeared: Moonlight Enterprises – Q2 Growth Overview.
Perfect. Professional. Safe.
Aria relaxed. She clicked again.
And froze.
On the screen, instead of a neat bar chart, appeared a meme.
A meme she had accidentally saved in the wrong folder.
A meme of a wolf howling at the moon with the caption: "Me, howling at student loans."
For three full seconds, there was silence. Deafening silence.
Aria's brain short-circuited. She clicked frantically, but the next slide was worse: a dancing cat gif she had downloaded last night while stress-eating ramen.
"Oh my God," she whispered, slamming random keys. The screen flickered—then filled with an image of a recipe for chicken alfredo.
Mia's voice in her head screamed: Technology hates you.
The clients blinked in stunned confusion. Lila buried her face in her hands.
And Damian Wolfe's silver-gray eyes sharpened like blades.
"Miss Hale," he said, his voice cutting through the chaos, "what, exactly, are we looking at?"
Aria's face burned hotter than the sun. "I—I—This isn't—There must've been a mix-up with the files—"
The clients shifted uncomfortably. One of them cleared his throat. "Interesting… culinary presentation."
Kill me now, Aria begged silently. Let the floor open up and swallow me whole.
She yanked out the USB, fumbling with the computer. The screen went black, but the damage was done.
"I—I'll fix it!" she babbled, plugging the USB back in and praying to every deity known to mankind. This time, thankfully, the correct presentation loaded. Bar charts and graphs filled the screen, glorious in their boring professionalism.
"Here it is," she croaked.
The rest of the meeting limped along. Lila delivered her points flawlessly, salvaging what she could. Aria sat frozen at the projector, clicking when needed, her entire body vibrating with humiliation.
When the clients finally stood to shake hands, Damian was polite and professional, his mask of composure perfectly intact. But his eyes flicked toward Aria more than once, unreadable.
As soon as the door closed behind the last client, silence blanketed the room.
Then Lila exhaled loudly. "Aria."
Aria braced herself.
"Go back to your desk. Now."
She nodded furiously and fled the conference room, ignoring the way her legs shook. Back at her desk, Mia was waiting with wide eyes.
"So? How bad was it?"
Aria dropped her head onto her keyboard. "Imagine the Titanic. Then imagine it crashing into another Titanic. That was me."
Mia stifled a laugh. "Oh no. What happened?"
"I projected memes. And cats. And pasta recipes."
Mia gasped, then clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking. "You did not."
"I did," Aria moaned. "I basically turned a multimillion-dollar corporate presentation into a comedy show."
Before Mia could reply, a shadow fell over Aria's desk.
Aria froze. Slowly, she lifted her head.
Damian Wolfe stood there, tall and terrifying, his gaze locked on her.
"Miss Hale." His tone was calm, but it held the weight of a thousand unspoken judgments.
"Yes, Mr. Wolfe?" Her voice squeaked like a mouse.
"Follow me."
The office went dead silent. Again. She was beginning to think she'd become the company's live entertainment.
Inside his office, Damian closed the door behind her. Aria gripped her tote bag strap like a lifeline.
"Explain," he said.
Her words tumbled out in a flood. "It was an accident! I had the wrong files on the USB, I didn't mean to—I swear, I wasn't trying to ruin the presentation—"
He raised a hand, silencing her. "You've been here less than a month, Miss Hale. And in that time, you've spilled coffee on the carpets, replied all with fashion critiques, and today—" His voice dropped, measured and sharp. "—you showed memes to million-dollar clients."
Aria winced. "When you put it that way, it sounds bad."
"It is bad," he said.
She stared at her shoes, certain her career was over. But then—out of nowhere—she heard it. A sound so foreign, she almost didn't recognize it.
A chuckle.
She snapped her gaze up. Damian Wolfe was smirking. Not cold, not mocking—an actual smirk, as if he found her blunders… amusing.
"I've been in business for over a decade," he said, eyes gleaming faintly. "And I've never had a client sit through a wolf meme during quarterly results."
Aria's jaw dropped. "Are you… laughing at me?"
His smirk widened by a fraction. "Don't mistake this for leniency, Miss Hale. You're on thin ice. But…" He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You're… interesting."
Her heart stuttered. Interesting? What did that mean?
Before she could ask, he waved a hand. "Go back to work. And make sure your next presentation doesn't involve pasta recipes."
"Yes, sir!" she squeaked, practically sprinting out of his office.
Back at her desk, Mia leaned over eagerly. "Well?"
Aria flopped into her chair, eyes wide. "I think… I think my boss just laughed at me."
Mia gasped. "The Wolf? He doesn't laugh."
"Well, he did today," Aria whispered, still reeling.
And as she stared at her computer screen, cheeks flushed, she realized something terrifying.
Damian Wolfe wasn't just her impossible, terrifying boss.
He was starting to notice her.