Evelyn's POV
Today is important, and I can't afford to mess up anything.
Yet here comes a dog—right in the middle of this massive city, and literally in front of the pitch-black skyscraper I'm supposed to enter.
A dog. In the middle of downtown. At this hour.
Can't his owner take him to a park? A quieter one? One far away from here… and me?
I started walking fast to reach the entrance of the building before the dog could get to me. But tell me why, as if he sensed my fear and understood exactly what I was doing, he started pulling his owner in my direction.
NO! NO! NO!
Not now. Not today. Not before the most important meeting of my life.
He can't see me!
I am as small as an ant and as invisible as a ghost right now. No way he'll notice me, right?
But he did.
Our eyes met. And just like that, I knew it was time to run.
My fear of dogs is deeply rooted in childhood trauma and today is far too important for me to face a dog, especially before one of the most important meetings of my life: the renewal of my company's contract.
I'm the founder of Fancy, a global e-commerce platform that sells fast fashion. Fancy isn't just my proudest work—it's my life. I started it eight years ago in my freshman year of college, and all I can say is, it's been a huge success. Our revenue last year was just over half a billion.
Everything had been going well, until, strangely, Anders delayed this year's contract renewal. Then, out of nowhere, the CEO's assistant reached out to schedule a meeting with Charles Anders himself.
That's all I know about him—his name. Not a single photo or piece of information about him exists online. Just a vague backstory: how his grandfather, the former CEO and chairman of Anders, passed the company to Charles two years ago after publicly announcing his retirement. Since then, Charles Anders has been… silent. Private. Almost mythical.
Anders is pure wealth. They control a little over 65% of all water shipments and have been in the industry for over a century. If Fancyis an ant in the forest, Anders is the elephant. That's how different we are—yet there's one thing that connects us.
Well, Fancy sells affordable clothes, mostly made in Asia and shipped worldwide by sea. Anders moves goods across the ocean for a price. Connect the dots: I use their cargo ships to deliver my products.
The first time I signed a contract with them was when my business officially launched eight years ago. We renewed it four years ago. This time, I'm way behind—the contract expires in just two months—but it's them who've been delaying for some odd reason.
What's weirder is that for a company as small as mine, the CEO himself is meeting me. Don't directors usually handle this kind of thing?
Whatever the reason is, this meeting must go on—and go well. Though that dog is a bad start, I can make it better.
I sprinted toward the building entrance, heart pounding. The dog lunged forward, his leash snapping free from the owner's grip, and raced toward me.
I know dogs sense fear, and I was practically radiating it. Still, I didn't slow down. I pushed through the revolving door, breathless.
Safe.
The dog slammed to a stop just outside, paws tapping against the glass. I grinned in victory, silently thanking my flats for being the right choice today.
His owner bowed apologetically through the door, and I gave a stiff nod in return, trying to ignore the adrenaline still rattling through me.
Straightening my posture, I smoothed a hand over my white, high-waisted wide-leg pants and matching sleeveless turtleneck. I adjusted the claw clip holding my hair—styled messy but deliberate—and walked toward the front desk like I hadn't just sprinted away from a twelve-pound beast.
The building's lobby was sleek and intimidating: marble floors, sharp lighting, and business types moving like clockwork. No distractions. No second chances.
I approached the front desk and chose to speak to the blonde receptionist; she looked friendlier than the brunette beside her.
"Hello," I said with practiced calm. "My name is Evelyn Antonov. I have a 4 p.m. appointment with Mr. Anders."
The brunette gave me a once-over, her gaze lingering in a way that made my skin crawl. I ignored her and focused on the blonde, who smiled politely and said,
"That'll be the 47th floor, conference room 4707, Ms. Antonov."
"Thank you," I replied and turned to the elevators, checking my watch.
As I waited for the elevator, confident footsteps approached from behind. I didn't look but felt the steps stop close by and still kept my gaze forward. I may have looked calm, but inside I was nervous and painfully aware that I didn't belong in a place like this, a place that could decide my future.
I got into the elevator, pressed 47, and turned around.
A tall man stepped in, wearing a beige polo shirt tucked into tailored black dress pants that fit him effortlessly. Sunglasses indoors—that was the kind of confidence he carried. Although his eyes were hidden behind the dark lenses, the rest of his face was unmistakably striking. He had a sharp jawline, clean-shaven skin, full pink lips that looked soft to the touch, and a slim, well-defined nose that gave his features a refined elegance. He was, without question, undeniably attractive.
He didn't press a button for a floor and just walked behind me to stand.
I assumed he was headed to the same floor.
A few seconds passed, and then I heard him speak behind me:
"Congrats on outrunning that dog out there."
I flinched.
He saw me.
Why does his tone sound like he's mocking me?
I turned sharply to see him smirking. Yep—definitely mocking.
I rolled my eyes and replied,
"Who would've thought I'd find another dog in here."
His mouth opened slightly, clearly surprised. Even with the sunglasses on, I could tell I'd caught him off guard. Satisfied, I turned around, giving him my back.
"Since when are dogs this tall, while assuming you are… a human, this short?"
I clenched my teeth. I'm five-three, and I'm fully aware that's considered short—but I won't let this annoying man use that against me. It's not like I can control my height.
I turned around sharply again and said, "At least I'm not short on character."
"Says who?" That same mocking tone. That same smirk. How I wish I could wipe it off his face.
"Myself," I said, raising my head a little higher, as if that would somehow make me as tall as him.
"Hate to break it to you, but when dogs dislike you, it's definitely for a reason. And you just confirmed that."
"Guess what else is confirmed? That you're a dog. Not only your irrational dislike for me, but also your uninvited bark confirms it."
"I complimented you, young lady. You took my appreciation for a bark—are you even sane?"
"I thought old men were closer to insanity than young ladies."
He looked like he was ready to respond, but the ding of the elevator doors cut him off.
Though his laid-back aura made him seem like someone with nothing better to do than argue with me in an elevator, I knew better. Anyone who entered this building was anything but that.
I don't know what's gotten into me today. First the dog. Then this annoying man. And now this side of myself I didn't even know existed. I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me, at least not here.
Frustrated beyond reason, I stormed out of the elevator without giving him a chance to talk back.
I had no idea where I was going, but the last person I wanted to ask was him. So, I just turned right and kept walking, sensing him head in the opposite direction.
After scanning the room numbers, I realized the right hallway held rooms 4710 to 4720, while the left had 4701 to 4709 and the room I needed was 4707.
Of course, I turned the wrong way. Today just couldn't give me one win, not when everything else was already going sideways.
I sighed, turned around, and made my way down the hall. When I found the door labeled 4707, I exhaled and knocked gently.
"Come in," said a voice from inside.
I opened the door.
And froze.
There he was—that prick—seated in a chair, sunglasses now off, speaking with another man in a black suit facing him.
No. Fucking. Way.