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Signing the first deal of the day with a world-famous modelling agency was more exhausting than I had anticipated. The endless paperwork, the stiff formality, the constant parade of signatures and handshakes — it was enough to drain even the most energetic soul.
Mrs. Yumi Suzume herself — Japan’s most celebrated model and the formidable owner of its top modelling agency — had chosen to sign with our company. I’d been chasing this deal for months, knowing it would open new doors for my brand in Japan. It wasn’t just a business opportunity; it was a milestone. A million-dollar milestone I could not afford to fumble.
As the meeting finally drew to a close, I let my head fall back against the high leather backrest of my chair, exhaling a breath that had been trapped inside me since morning.
My right hand came up almost lazily, wrist turning so I could glance at my watch. 12:25 p.m. Past noon. I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing my shoulders to relax, trying to let the tension ebb away.
A sharp knock on my office door shattered the fragile peace.
I muttered a quiet curse under my breath and called out for the intruder to enter.
Ryle stepped in, holding a sleek black device in her hand. My phone.
“Ma’am, you left this in the meeting room,” she said, setting it gently on my desk. “You received a call from Mr. Rai Mehrotra’s secretary. I apologise for glancing at the screen, but I thought it important to inform you.”
I gave her a brief nod. “Thank you, Ryle.”
Once she left, I picked up the phone. A single notification blinked at me: one missed call. If it was important, he would call back. I wasn’t about to chase him.
Yes, I am self-centred — and unapologetically so.
I placed the phone back on the desk and closed my eyes again.
Naturally, it rang almost immediately.
Gosh.
Why did people have such uncanny timing? And with him, it was always bad timing. Every interaction I’d had with Rai Mehrotra had been a test of my patience.
I snatched up the phone and pressed it to my ear. “Yes, Anika speaking.”
A polite male voice greeted me. “Good afternoon, Ms. Roy Chowdhury. I’m Mr. Rai Mehrotra’s secretary, Youngjae Kim.”
“Afternoon, Mr. Kim. How can I help you?” I sat up straighter, professional reflexes kicking in.
“Ma’am, Mr. Mehrotra has requested that you be ready by five o’clock this evening for a date. He will pick you up from your mansion.”
