The presentation room was an ice box. Not literally, of course, but the air-conditioning was cranked up to a temperature so low it felt like a silent, punishing cold. It was a pressure cooker designed to test one's mettle, and Sasha was in the very heart of it. Her voice, usually a lively torrent of ideas that flowed with passion, felt unnervingly calm as she navigated through the slides with a rhythmic, almost meditative click of the remote. All she could hear was the low hum of the projector and the quiet scuff of a shoe against the polished mahogany floor. Every eye in the room was on her, but the only ones that truly mattered belonged to the man seated at the head of the table.
Luca Meyer.
He didn't just sit in a chair, he occupied the space. His posture was ramrod straight, his broad shoulders squared beneath the immaculate tailoring of his charcoal suit. The fabric looked as if it had been woven just for him, a testament to his exacting standards. He wasn't looking at the glowing screen behind Sasha, but directly at her, his gaze as sharp and focused as a laser. It wasn't an intimidating stare, but one of pure, quiet evaluation, a look that could dissect a design, a person, or an entire corporation without a single word. The silver threads at his temples and the barely there lines around his eyes only added to the gravitas of his mature, workaholic demeanor. He had an intimidating silence about him, a stillness that made everyone else feel frantic in comparison.
But Sasha knew him to be fair, methodical, and rarely theatrical. He was simply the CEO, and she was a senior interior designer. Nothing more.
Sasha kept her focus on the task, her mind compartmentalizing the anxiety that churned in her stomach. She delivered the technical specifications of the design with precision, her years of experience lending a deceptive ease to her delivery. She knew the design was good. The question was whether it was good enough for him.
"And finally," Sasha said, her voice rising with a practiced confidence that didn't quite reach the fluttering butterflies she still felt, "the pièce de résistance: a fully modular lobby space that can transform from a serene coffee lounge by day to a vibrant, immersive art gallery at night. The lighting scheme is inspired by the aurora borealis, creating a shifting, dynamic atmosphere without being overwhelming."
She clicked the final slide.
The render flashed on the screen, a high resolution masterpiece of her team's work. Soft, iridescent lights danced across the digital walls, illuminating sleek, minimalist furniture and the graceful curves of a cascading water feature. Sasha held her breath, the silence stretching into what felt like an eternity. This was her moment of truth.
Then, he leaned forward, breaking the perfect stillness that surrounded him. "The aurora borealis. I like it. Sasha. It's innovative."
Sasha's chest ached with the force of the relief that washed over her. It was a physical release, a sudden lightening of the immense pressure she'd been under. Luca glanced at the other executives in the room, a silent command in his eyes, and a collective murmur of approval swept through them. "Excellent work," he said, turning back to Sasha, the hint of a genuine smile briefly softening the hard edges of his face. "Let's get the contracts drawn up."
Sasha smiled, a full bodied, authentic grin that reached her eyes.
"Thank you, sir."
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
As the room erupted in a buzz of chatter, her colleague, Sameer, clapped her on the back, a little harder than necessary. "You killed it, Sasha! I was honestly praying he wouldn't tear apart the lighting concept."
Sasha laughed, the sound bright and bubbly, a perfect reflection of her mood. "Same here. I think my soul left my body at least three times during that presentation."
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of congratulations and handshakes. Sasha the designer was on fire, her work validated by the toughest critic in the industry. The weight of the accomplishment settled over her, not as a burden, but as a comforting blanket of success. She felt unstoppable, capable of conquering any challenge the corporate world could throw at her.
Later that day, as Sameer and she boarded the crowded metro to visit the construction site, Sasha felt a sense of pure, unadulterated happiness. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. 'Mom❤️' flashed on the screen. Sasha swiped the notification away. She was in a crowded metro, on her way to a work site. Her mother could wait. Sasha was on a high, and she didn't want anything to bring her down.
A minute later, the phone rang again. Again, Sasha silenced it, tucking the device deeper into her bag. The loud, rattling clatter of the metro and the press of the crowd were a small price to pay for the sweet, lingering taste of her professional victory.
As they finally emerged from the suffocating rush of the metro and into the chaotic, honking symphony of the city, Sasha's phone buzzed with an incoming call from her mother. This time, she didn't hesitate. She answered it as she slid into the back of a waiting taxi.
"Hello, Mom, I'm in a cab. Everything okay?" Sasha asked, her voice a little breathless from the dash through the crowd.
"Sasha, you never answer my calls," her mother began, a familiar sigh in her tone. "Anyway, your aunt found a perfect boy for you. I want you to meet him after work today."
Sasha's shoulders slumped in defeat. A blind date. Again. "Mom, I'm exhausted. And I have to go to a site right now. I don't have time for this."
"Just meet him for coffee! He's a good boy. He's handsome, successful, and from a nice family. I've already sent his details and a photo to your phone. Don't tell me no, you're not getting any younger."
Sasha sighed, a long, drawn out sound of pure resignation. "Fine. But if he's boring, I won't hesitate to leave."
"I'm so glad you're finally being reasonable," her mother chirped happily, and then ended the call before Sasha could object further.
As the taxi lurched forward, Sasha pulled out her phone, a sense of weary anticipation washing over her. She scrolled down, her thumb hovering over the attached image. With a sigh, she tapped it open.
She squinted at the photo, the image loading slowly, a vague sense of familiarity settling over her. The crisp white shirt, the subtle, confident tilt of his head, the way his shoulders were set... a cold dread began to pool in her stomach. No, it couldn't be. Not him. Sasha tapped the photo to zoom in, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
The crisp edges of the taxi seat, the blurred motion of the city outside the window, it all dissolved into a surreal haze. Sasha's jaw went slack. The phone felt suddenly heavy in her hand, as if it weighed a hundred pounds.
Sameer, who was scrolling through his own phone in the seat next to her, glanced up. "What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost." He started to lean over, his head cocked in casual curiosity, a lazy smile on his face.
"Nothing!" Sasha blurted out, a little too loudly. She hastily locked her phone, tucking it under her leg. She forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Just... a weird message from my mom. You know how she is."
He shrugged, a playful smirk on his face. "Tell me about it. Mine's trying to set me up with my dentist's daughter." He went back to his phone, brushing off the moment as quickly as it had appeared.
Myra turned her head to face the taxi window, the passing streetlights blurring into streaks of gold and red. Her mind was reeling. A hundred questions ricocheted inside her skull. How? How did her mother's random blind-date matchmaking lead her to the single most intimidating and powerful man she knew? Her parents and their friends, her aunt, were a world away from the high stakes corporate environment where she knew Luca Meyer. He was a CEO, not some neighborhood kid her mom's friend wanted to set her up with. The social Venn diagram that allowed this overlap seemed mathematically impossible.
She thought back to the conference room, the cold air, the razor sharp scrutiny of his gaze. She had been Sasha, the designer, delivering a presentation to the CEO. It was a purely professional, high stakes exchange. Now, the professional lines were not just blurred, they were gone, replaced by a tangled mess of personal absurdity. He was an intimidating, workaholic boss, but he was also fair.
What would he think now? Would he be amused? Annoyed? Would he think she had somehow orchestrated this? The irony of the situation was a bitter taste in her mouth. She had spent all day trying to impress him with her professional acumen, and now she was supposed to meet him as a dutiful daughter going on a blind date.
And what did his family think? They must have sent him her photo, too. Sasha, the senior interior designer who had just wowed him with an innovative lighting concept, was now Sasha, the girl his family wanted him to go on a blind date with. The presentation was a victory, this was a potential disaster.
The thought of facing him, not across a conference table with her armor of professionalism, but over a casual cup of coffee, made her blood run cold. She didn't know whether to scream, laugh, or simply cancel her life and move to a different country. The pressure of the presentation had been immense, but the pressure of this impromptu, corporate meets family date felt paralyzing. She pulled her phone out again, staring at the photo of the CEO, the man who held her career in his hands, who now apparently held her dating life in them too.
[To be continued]