NEIL
It had been a few days since we worked on our pitch. Considering all the factors—what numbers had to be done, what campaign would blow the audience’s mind, and obviously a powerful marketing strategy to make this thing a masterpiece—we had a deadline. But all that mattered was that our work was perfect.
I came in early for work and revised our pitch not once but three times. Not because it needed to be.
But because something didn’t sit right.
I read the line again.
And again.
Same wording. Same structure. But something was off.
It wasn’t the numbers. Nor the rollout.
That part made sense.
The way it held something without explaining it.
The way it didn’t try to justify itself.
That part—
felt familiar.
I leaned back and looked at the screen.
I knew there was a word for it—just not one the industry used.
It carried a feeling that people here were not comfortable with.
It was something else.
I had seen something like this before. It just wasn’t coming to me right now.
It wasn’t here.
But I remembered it from somewhere else.
While I was giving this so much thought, my assistant snapped me out of it.
I had an event to get to. The entire entertainment sharks were supposed to be there. It was Kaia’s idea to create buzz about our campaign during this event. Because when all the A-listers talk about something, there is a 90% chance the audience will react to it.
But we had to be smart about this—slide it in casually through conversations.
For someone who had just entered my life, she was taking up a lot of my thoughts.
But I had to admit—she was smart.
If only I could figure out what exactly her pitch derived from.
When I arrived, it was, as expected, a fascinating crowd. It reminds you how these people can create something so good with their unique abilities and still sway the audience with just a small shift.
They could be sharks and monsters when it came to business—but their talent was what sold.
I always wanted to be that composer. Too bad some things are just not shareable.
People talked over each other, saying more than they meant and less than they should.
And in the middle of it—
something stood out.
Not because it tried to.
Because it didn’t.
Red dress hugging her body. Black eyes like a cat—sweet, but with claws. A closed bun with one or two strands framing her face. Subtle makeup hidden behind that bold red smile.
The perfect amount of scent—something like a fruity chocolate fragrance. Almost like a dessert.
Someone brushed past me and I came back to reality.
The mixer had been forgettable.
Most of them were.
Same conversations. Same introductions. Same versions of people trying to sound like something they weren’t.
I wasn’t planning on staying long.
I rarely did.
Her work caught my attention. She was nonchalant. Bold.
A pitch—slightly off to the side. Not part of the louder discussions.
Not presented like it needed approval.
That was… unusual.
I stepped closer.
Not deliberately.
Just enough to see it properly.
There was something about the way it was put together.
Not incomplete.
Just not structured the way most people would expect it to be.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
“Looks like I missed a good discussion,” I said, my eyes fixed on her.
“Well, your timing couldn’t be better. After all, you’re the one with the numbers,” she said sarcastically.
“Yes, please tell us how the marketing strategy fits in this, and what the rollouts are,” said Mr. Aiden Lark.
Aiden was one of the top names when it came to business and finance for theatre. He rolled out money like a slot machine—but was one of the most cunning people in the industry. He used others’ ideas as his own the moment he heard something interesting.
And that wasn’t going to happen tonight.
“Well, we may just use the old-time trick to bring life into the musical with strong choreography,” I said.
“And when did we decide—”
I cut Kaia off.
“Hey. Mr. Brimsley was looking to meet us. Could you come with me for a moment?”
KAIA
Jerk cut me off.
But he gave me a hard stare, and I assumed something might be wrong—so I played along.
“Do you always have to be a know-it-all? Why did you cut me off?”
“So that the jerk doesn’t steal our ideas,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He explained how Aiden worked in the industry.
While he did that, I couldn’t help but notice his deep brown eyes beneath those incredible lashes. He wore a warm espresso brown suit with a cream shirt. His veiny hands, a subtle watch catching the light.
“Not black. Not trying to be noticed.
And somehow—still impossible to ignore.”
I snapped out of it when he finished.
Did I just think he looked hot—without meaning to?
I almost recoiled at the thought.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“No—no. I was just going to say… great job saving our backs.”
“Saving backs? Real professional, Miss Laine,” he said with a smirk.
“Oh, do you have to be so irritable?”
“Wait—do I seem to bother you?” he asked.
“What? No. Like I would even consider being bothered by you.”
“Oh really? Then how am I irritable if my words don’t bother you?”
He glanced at me.
We locked eyes.
Something felt off.
But even then, I couldn’t look away.
My heart picked up, just slightly.
And just before it could mean anything—
“We still have a lot to do,” I said. “But creating a buzz was a success. Great work… partner.”
I ended the moment there.
We moved back into the crowd.
Through and through—
this was a weird evening.
NEIL
After that, I remembered the pitch still needed to be presented.
As smooth as the evening went, I had to focus on work.
Working for Mr. Edward was my priority.
This phase could change my career—and there was nothing sweeter than being on top.
Within all the chaos, Kaia was working her charm again.
She was good with words.
They just… came to her.
This time, her work caught my attention before she did.
I stepped closer to listen.
I didn’t move closer with intention.
But my attention lingered—long enough to take it in.
There was something in the way she held itself together.
Not unfinished.
Just… arranged differently.
Her gaze shifted.
She caught me.
People who worked like that always did.
“You’re not pitching that here, are you?” I said.
Not dismissive.
Just direct.
She looked at me—calm, but not welcoming.
“And if I am?”
A pause.
Short.
Measured.
I glanced back at the work.
Then at her.
“This is…” I started, then stopped.
There was a word for it.
Not the right one.
But the closest one I had.
“This is emotional.”
Silence.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just—
there.
Something shifted.
Subtle.
But enough.
Her expression didn’t change much.
But it did.
Slightly colder.
More distant.
“That’s one way to look at it,” she said.
Even.
Controlled.
It didn’t land the way I expected it to.
That much was clear.
“I meant—” I started.
“Neil—”
Someone behind me.
Another conversation.
Another interruption.
I looked away for a second.
Just a second.
When I turned back—
she had stepped away.
Not abruptly.
Not noticeably.
Just… not there anymore.
The moment didn’t last long.
It wasn’t meant to.
Someone said something. Someone else laughed. The room moved on.
Like it always did.
I didn’t follow.
I didn’t need to.
Didn’t think I needed to.
I had meant it.
That part, I was certain of.
It was rare to come across something that didn’t try too hard to be understood.
Something that simply… was.
I had said it the way I saw it.
Clear. Direct.
Uncomplicated.
Back in the present, I looked at the same line again.
The same idea.
The same feeling.
She hadn’t taken it that way.
That much was obvious now.
I closed the document.
Not because it was done.
Because it wasn’t.
I hadn’t thought about that conversation in months.
Not properly.
Not enough to matter.
She had.
That was the difference.
INTERNAL — NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION
NEIL — MEMO
Re: Campaign Direction
The narrative direction holds.
It doesn’t follow structure.
It doesn’t need to—yet.
That’s where the tension is.
I’ve seen something like this before.
Not here.
It worked then.
Or at least—
it could have.
I meant it one way.
I’m not sure that’s how it sounded.
Either way—
It’s going to matter now.
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