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From behind me, Olivia stage-whispers, "That's my cue to exit! Lovely to almost meet you, Roman. Cassie, call me later withallthe details."
She squeezes past me, pausing only to whisper "Nice ass!" in my ear before disappearing down the hallway with the tactical retreat skills of a special ops soldier.
"Your friend seems... colorful," Roman observes, the hint of a smile softening his expression.
"That's one word for her." I step back, holding the door wider. "You might as well come in. Though I should warn you, my place is... in a creative phase."
His eyebrows rise slightly as he takes in the chaos of my apartment. "I can see that. Very... prolific."
"I stress-design," I admit, hastily clearing sketchbooks from the couch. "Coffee? Wine? Nervous breakdown?"
"I'm fine, thank you." He sets the portfolio and food bags on my coffee table. "I brought dinner. I thought you might not have eaten."
The gesture is unexpectedly thoughtful, and it catches me off guard. "How did you?—"
"You forget to eat when you're focused on a project," he says, as if this is common knowledge. "You did the same thing during the Lumière deadline. I had to have Zara bring you lunch."
The fact that he noticed, that he remembers this small detail about me, creates a warm feeling I'm not ready to examine too closely.
"Thank you," I say instead, gesturing to the couch. "Please, sit. Sorry about the mess."
"Don't apologize. Creativity is rarely tidy." He loosens his tie, the gesture transforming him slightly from CEO to just... Roman. "I like seeing your process."
I sink onto the couch, maintaining a careful distance between us. "So... you wanted to talk."
"Yes. First about Grant." He opens the leather portfolio, pulling out several document folders. "Zara did some research on his hiring patterns."
"His pattern of poaching creative directors to hurt competitors, then firing them once the damage is done?" I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "Yeah, Olivia found that too. Google is surprisingly effective."
Roman's expression shifts from professional to genuinely surprised. "You knew?"
"I figured it out during our breakfast," I admit. "He didn't care about my designs. Couldn't even tell which concepts were mine versus the rejected ones. It was... illuminating."
"And his offer?"
"Double my current salary. Complete creative control." I can't resist adding, "Plus a guaranteed internship for Mia."
Roman's jaw tightens. "Of course he'd try to use your sister."
"It was heavy-handed, really. Almost insulting how obvious he was being." I draw my knees up to my chest, studying Roman's face. "You don't seem shocked that I turned him down."
"I'm not. You're too smart to fall for his manipulation." His confidence in me creates another warm flicker I try to ignore. "But I also came prepared to counter his offer, just in case."
He slides a document across the coffee table. I pick it up, scanning the title: "Proposal for Independent Brand Division Under Elysian Holdings."
"What is this?"
"A genuine opportunity." His voice takes on that intensity I've come to associate with his most authentic moments. "Your own brand. Complete creative control. Elysian's resources and distribution network, but your vision, your name on the label."
I flip through the pages, my eyes widening at the details. It's comprehensive, thoughtful, and exactly the kind of opportunity most designers would kill for.
"You developed this whole proposal in three days?" I ask, genuinely impressed.
"Two, actually." There's a hint of that smugness I find both annoying and oddly attractive. "I wanted to have options."
"Options for what? Keeping me at Elysian?"
"For making sure you have the platform your talent deserves." He leans forward, those blue eyes locked on mine. "This isn't about competing with Grant's offer. This is about what I should have proposed months ago, because it's right for your career and right for Elysian."