Author's Note: I will like to say thanks to these special people who encourage me and is my motivation for writing Har1eyWilson and theyyluvmia
Thanks so much for voting, commenting and encouraging me.
Sofia's POV.
Saydai pushes open the private room door.
Warm golden light spills across the polished table. The city glows beyond the glass wall — headlights sliding like liquid fire below.
Antonio Haywood sits at the head of the table.
Not slouched.
Not rigid.
Simply… composed.
One arm rests lightly against the chair. The other hand is on the table, fingers tapping once — slow, controlled. His assistant sits beside him, tablet ready.
Saydai clears her throat softly.
Antonio's gaze lifts.
Sharp. Direct.
"You are late, Ms. Parker."
His voice is calm.
Too calm.
He doesn't raise it. Doesn't need to.
His eyes remain on Sandra, unblinking. His jaw tightens once before relaxing again.
"I value punctuality," he continues evenly. "It reflects discipline."
The words are smooth. Polished. Cold.
Saydai inhales to speak —
But his attention shifts.
To me.
And that is when I feel it.
His eyes narrow slightly — not in confusion, but in assessment.
He studies me.
From my heels.
To my posture.
To my face.
Not hurried. Not embarrassed.
Just observing.
Calculating.
The air in the room thickens.
His assistant shifts subtly in his chair.
Antonio leans back slightly, folding his hands together. His head tilts almost imperceptibly.
Assumption settles in his expression.
Then he speaks.
Quietly.
"And who," he asks, voice smooth as glass, "have you brought with you?"
His gaze remains fixed on me.
There is no shouting.
No visible irritation.
Only controlled dismissal.
"We are discussing a multi-billion-dollar development," he continues, tone measured. "This is not… bring-your-child-to-work day."
The words land softly.
But they cut.
My fingers curl slowly at my sides.
My nails dig into my palm.
Heat floods my chest.
Saydai stiffens. "Sir, she—"
Antonio raises one finger slightly.
She falls silent.
He doesn't even look at her.
His eyes are still on me.
"If this is your assistant," he adds coolly, "she should wait outside."
Assistant.
Child.
Dismissed in one breath.
My heartbeat pounds against my ribs.
Not again.
Not today.
Saydai's voice trembles. "S-She is Miss Parker. She's the owner."
A pause.
Antonio's eyes sharpen.
He studies me again — slower this time.
Something flickers in his expression.
Not shock.
Not apology.
Interest.
But it disappears quickly.
"This," he says quietly, gaze steady on mine, "is the CEO of Sofi Architect?"
He rises slowly from his chair.
He is tall.
The movement is deliberate. Controlled.
He steps closer.
Not invading.
But close enough.
Up close, his presence feels heavier.
"You're younger than I expected," he says.
His eyes drop — not to my face.
Lower.
Measuring.
"And smaller."
The word is delivered without emotion.
That hurts more than if he had shouted.
My throat tightens.
My nails press deeper into my palm until I feel the sting.
I lift my chin.
My voice trembles.
But it does not break.
"Who exactly are you calling small, Mr. Haywood?"
The room goes still.
Even the air feels frozen.
His assistant shifts again.
Antonio's eyes hold mine.
I can feel my heartbeat in my ears.
"You have reviewed my company's portfolio for six months," I continue, each word steady despite the fire rising in my chest. "You examined our numbers. Our structural designs. Our environmental reports."
My pulse pounds harder.
"And yet," I say, swallowing the burn in my throat, "you reduce me to a physical measurement."
His jaw tightens.
Just slightly.
"You of all people," I add quietly, "should understand that presence is not defined by height."
Silence.
The city lights shimmer behind him.
"I was insulted this morning," I confess before I can stop myself. "I will not be insulted again."
The heat in my chest spreads upward, burning behind my eyes — but I refuse to let it show.
"I don't care if we proceed with this project," I say, my voice low but unwavering. "But I will never tolerate disrespect."
For the first time, something shifts in his expression.
Not arrogance.
Not anger.
Recognition.
I turn before I can analyze it.
"Saydai. Let's go."
My heels strike the marble floor sharply as I walk out.
Controlled.
Composed.
Only when the door closes behind us do I realize my hands are shaking.
Not from fear.
From fury.
Author's Note:
I don't like Antonio at the moment.
Before you judge him get to know him, omayy?
It's wrong to hurt other just because you have some issues.
Thanks for voting, sharing and commenting.
Xoxo
Bella 💕