Sitting behind his desk, Logan spun the pen between his fingers, eyes lost on the stack of documents in front of him. The silence in his office was heavy — too heavy.
A soft knock broke through it.
"Come in," he said without looking up.
"The Chairwoman requests your presence in her office," his secretary said softly.
Logan froze. The pen slipped from his fingers and landed on the table with a dull clack.
"Chairwoman?" he repeated, finally looking up. "Why is she here?"
"I… I'm not sure, sir."
He nodded once, trying to mask the unease rising in his chest. "It's fine. Tell her I'll be there in a minute."
As soon as she left, Logan exhaled and straightened his tie, forcing his heartbeat to slow. No one ever summoned him to the Chairwoman's office unless it was serious.
He walked down the marble hallway toward the executive wing — each step echoing like a countdown.
"Good day, Chairwoman," he said, bowing slightly as he entered.
Her office was vast, minimalist, and intimidating — sunlight spilling through the tall windows onto her glass desk. She didn't look up at him right away, only stirred her tea before finally speaking.
"How long do you plan to delay the Zurich branch project?"
"The contract files were sent this morning," he said carefully. "I was reviewing them. The deal should be finalized by tomorrow."
She took a slow sip, her gaze sharp. "You'd better handle it properly, Logan. You still have a long way to prove yourself."
Logan swallowed, his palms slick with sweat. "Yes, Chairwoman."
She set the cup down and walked toward the door — but paused.
"Oh, one more thing," she said without turning. "You'll be meeting with Vienna Marlowe this evening — eldest daughter of the Celestia Collection. The engagement will be announced soon."
Logan blinked, stunned. "Mom… what?" he whispered.
She turned slightly, her expression unreadable. "Clear your schedule from 4 p.m. Don't make me repeat myself."
And just like that, she walked out, her heels clicking against the marble floor, leaving Logan alone with the echo of his own disbelief.
He stared at the closed door, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.
"An arranged marriage… for power again."
***
Logan's POV
***
I cleared my schedule to meet the girl my mother had chosen for me.
It wasn't like I had a choice.
I parked my car and entered the restaurant. A waiter in a black vest led me to the VVIP room — the one my mother had made reservations for.
The time was 5:30 p.m.
The date was for 4.
She was an hour and thirty minutes late.
"I guess today's going to be my happy day," I muttered under my breath, sarcasm dripping from every word.
The door opened before I could finish.
A lady walked in, heels clicking softly against the tiled floor.
She wore a short royal-blue gown that screamed confidence and money. Her brown hair brushed just below her shoulders, each step precise — practiced elegance.
"You must be Logan?" she said, sliding into the seat across from me without so much as a greeting.
"What?" I choked slightly, caught off guard by her tone.
She didn't even apologize for being late.
"Logan Avalon, right?" she repeated, eyes flicking up from her phone.
"Yes," I said, forcing a polite smile.
"It's nice to meet you," she said casually, reaching for the glass of wine on the table and taking a slow sip. "I'm sure you've heard of me already."
Not gonna lie — it's not nice to meet her.
"Yeah," I muttered. "Vienna Marlowe. Daughter of Celestia Collections."
"Good. Saves me the trouble of introducing myself," she said, crossing her legs. "You're quieter than I thought."
"Maybe because I wasn't expecting a job interview," I said, leaning back.
She smirked. "You think I'm here to impress you?"
"Are you not?"
"Please," she scoffed, twirling the wine glass between her fingers. "My mother and yours seem to think we'd make a 'perfect match.' I'm just here to see if you're worth the headache."
"And?"
She studied me for a second, her lips curving slightly. "You look better than in your business photos. But I can already tell — you're the boring type."
That one stung a little.
"Guess that makes us even," I said calmly.
"Because you're exactly what I expected."
Vienna raised a brow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Someone who's used to getting whatever she wants.".
"Maybe I am." Her voice dropped low, teasing.
"And what if what I want… is you?"
I looked straight into her eyes, unbothered. "Then I'll suggest you want something else."
The room went silent. The violin from outside played faintly, filling the awkward space between us.
Vienna laughed suddenly — not the fake one she probably used in public, but something real, amused.
"You're different, Logan Avalon. I like that."
"I wasn't trying to be."
"I know," she said, her tone softening just a little "That's why it's interesting."
***
Author's POV
***
As Vienna left the restaurant, she glanced back through the glass wall, watching Logan still seated at the table, his eyes on his phone, a faint frown on his face.
She didn't know why she smiled.
Maybe it was the way he didn't fall for her usual charm.
Or maybe… because for the first time, someone had looked at her and didn't want her at all.
***
Logan's POV
***
After dinner, Vienna left first — something about an "emergency meeting."
Lucky me.
At least I was going to have a free evening for once.
I needed to clear my head. Talking to her for an hour had drained the last ounce of my patience.
So, I decided to stop by a music store I'd passed a few times on the way to the office.
Maybe the piano could help me breathe again.
I parked my blue Porsche right in front of the store. From outside, I could hear faint melodies — guitar strings, soft violin notes, the hum of a cello.
Music. Real, unfiltered peace.
As I reached for the door, someone bumped into me — hard.
"I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking!" a girl said quickly, her voice soft but flustered. She knelt to grab her fallen backpack, head down, clutching a melting cup of ice cream.
"You should be careful next time," I said, brushing off my suit. My tone came out sharper than I intended — I was still annoyed from the day.
"I'm really sorry, mister. I'll take full responsibility for—"
She froze. Then she looked up.
My breath hitched.
It was her.
The girl from the rain.
"You?" I pointed, completely thrown off.
"You again?" she replied, her eyes wide, disbelief written all over her face.