Chapter 18 Chapter 18
ALINA'S POV
"Glad you finally decided to join us!" I bit out, scowling. But he didn't pay me any mind. The other staff at the table rose as they watched him come in, greetings falling from their lips.
But his expression remained unfazed, unapologetic for making us wait. One look at him and you'll know not to expect one. An apology.
I tried not to roll my eyes as we sat back down, tried so hard. Especially as he began flipping through the folder placed in front of him, wanting to go through what would be talked about. All of which could've been done already if he'd showed a bit earlier than now.
Argh, I was getting all worked just staring at him. So annoying. I stood up then, more than prepared to start. But just as I opened my lips,
"Proceed," he called out, authoritative. Like I wasn't going to without him speaking at all. Still, I stuffed that down and faced the screen in the room, a tight smile on my face. "So..."I started, "We've all reviewed the preliminary updates, got familiar with the groundwork and established that Seraph wing requires a contrast-driven movement that-
"Without me?" I paused, blinked as I turned to face him. But he repeated, "You did all that without me?"
Without you? Man, you were late. What did you expect?
"You already know all of these, sir." I voiced out, calm. "I sent them as requested by you yesterday. Got your approval, which means you must've already gone through them, right?"
He made me do all of those adjustments, worked my ass off and needing his every approval for even the slightest change.
All that work, don't tell me he didn't even go through them.
"I'm only taking the rest of the team through your approved ideas, sir." I pressed, emphasis on approved. "You did check the files. Right?"
His features stilled. Eyes dimming with a collected and silent 'how dare you'. Meaning he fully understood the implication of my words. "I did," he said, low. Dark. "Carry on."
Hmm.
I did carry on. Scoffing under my breath and returning my gaze to the now turned on screen in the room. Pictures and images displayed on there, just as I'd arranged them while making his changes yesterday.
Good thing though, it helped me now and, pictures were the absolute best used in explaining and expressing creatives. The exact ideas we would be working with, especially to the staff who would be doing the heavier work of bringing it all to life. They needed to see it, to properly understand what we were to do.
So without wasting time I got right into it. Explained all the recent changes and plans I had in mind to add. Their eyes, focused and interested in my every word. Notepads out, silence in the air, concentration level —high.
Such wonderful set of staff to work with.
So fired up! Hell, they had me feeling excited with the project all over again and I was just talking. Sharing everything I had in mind. But of course, that sort of peace and excitement was bound not to last. So far as a certain annoying critic was seated in this very same room.
“That won’t work.” he started, announcing himself. Tone dismissive. Turning everyone's attention to him, partly confused. Me, worse.
“Clients don’t need buffers. They need momentum.” he continued.
"Okay... but this is why the buffer zones are designed to create momentum, not reduce it.” I explained, hoping that was clear enough. "By controlling contrast—light, sound, density—we push people forward without them feeling pushed.”
“And that’s not how momentum works,” he leaned back slightly. Unimpressed. “Momentum is created through directive guidance. Stronger cues. Clearer movement. A defined destination.”
“Directional lighting is a stronger cue, sir." I argued, "That’s why the contrast ratios are—
“That’s not what you just explained.”
What?
“It is, sir."
"It is not."
"It i-
"It's not, Monroe."
Okay.
Alright.
"Noted." I gave in, turning back to the screen. Doing my best not to scoff out loud or cuss at the ridiculousness that just happened.
He was picking fights.
With me.
Here.
And sadly, it wasn't the end just yet.
"With the lighting established, the next element is sensory progression and—
“Unnecessary.” He cut in again. Tone dismissive. Features pissed. "All of that is unnecessary."
"How so?" I tilted my head slightly, facing him again. “You said yesterday that you wanted the experience layered.”
“I said layered, not indulgent.”
“This isn’t indulgent,” I replied, “It’s intentional.”
"Intentional?" His jaw flexed, green eyes narrowing. "You believe you understand intentional designs better than I do now, Miss Monroe?”
Excuse me?
“I believe I understand my job, sir.” I responded, tone snapping. Getting pissed now.
Just what the hell was he playing at right now?
How dare he try to suggest he knew my job better than I did when I was the creative consultant here?
How dare he say that here? In front of my own department, staff that'll work with and for me to make this job a reality.
If he knew the job so damn well himself, why hadn't he done it himself rather than seek for help?!
The nerves on this man... Such a bastard. And here I thought the meeting was going fine.
The staff adjusted uncomfortably on their seats, clearing throats and waiting as we both silently glared at eachother. I didn't back down, not now he'd insulted my capabilities in front of my team members. He either apologized or zipped his mouth shut for me to do my damn job.
Silence stretched between us for a moment. Tight enough to choke. The staff did. However silently they behaved.
Then he leaned forward, "I’m about to teach you...What you’re describing isn’t intentional,” he said coolly. Arrogant, and beyond infuriating with that low smirk playing on his lips. "It’s called transitional conditioning. That's what you're doing. It's the space shaping desire before contact.”
W-what? Shaping de—
"If anything the flow should begin with the lighting, yes — but supported by sensory cues that prime anticipation rather than overwhelm it.” he held my gaze then. Eyes pinned on me, downgrading. Dismissive.
"Subtlety is the sophistication you’re looking for, Miss Monroe. Learn the words."
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice. Fourth, fifth, damn a hundred times as I heard those words!
Subtlety.
Sophistication.
Isn't that same as saying sensory progression and being intentional about it? I could've elaborated extensively on it if he'd just let me speak rather than cut me off to say whatever!
I had laid out everything. Plotted and arranged it all, sent it to him, which he approved. Only to come here and kick against it like I'm some silly child trying to bake cookies.
He knew exactly what I was to say, but instead of applauding me, he chose to kick me down and use my own ideas to make himself look good. And the staff were buying it.
I could see it in their silent nods and subtle agreement.
Roman you bastard... This is same as my idea but with more syllables!
"Oh wow, I didn't know you were such a good translator." I voiced, smiling. Mocking as I faced him. "An 'English' translator. With the words and all. You managed to rephrase my words in the manner which you understand."
His smirk dimmed. Green eyes starting to scowl. "At least you understand now, Sir." I smirked, "Glad we can finally agree."
His jaw locked. A muscle jumped near his temples, his scowling now evident and refusing to hide. And with that I thanked everyone, returning to my seat. An insane level of pleasure spreading through me. Knowing very well I was the reason for that scowl on his ugly stupid face.
A few questions came up after that. The staff not paying Roman's scowl any mind as he'd resolved to barking out orders after that. Issuing warnings and having his shadow —Jordan stare intimidatingly behind him.
A couple of minutes later, the meeting came to an end and everyone filed out. Myself included.
I could feel eyes on me as I did, but I didn't bother looking back. He could glare at my back for all I care. Safely back in my office, I put down the folders, smiling proudly at how I handled things.
"Take that sucker,"
But before I could head for my seat, relax my feet, the door of my office flew open. Air rushing in immediately but getting trapped just as fast as the door shut and the bastard himself occupied my space.
His body cologne instantly filling the air; Oud wood, black amber, Smoked vanilla, and warm musk.
Rich. Expensive.
So fucking sinful and... very addictive. I inhaled a handful before realising what I was doing. Luckily, he was too busy scowling at me to notice.
So I stood erect, shelving all stupid thoughts and facing the trouble in front of me. He for sure didn't come for peace.
"What do you want?"
"How dare you?"
We said at once. Him not finding my words funny, and neither did I his.
"How dare I?" I repeated, disbelief. "How dare— how dare you? How dare you pull the stunt that you've been pulling?"
"I pulled no stunts. How dare you act out?"
Act out?
I scoffed, laughing mockingly. "I’m just doing my job. The one you've been trying to sabotage. Yesterday, today and even right now."
"Sabotage?" He pulled forward, closer to me. Eyebrows furrowed tight, features twisted in annoyance. Dominance rolling off him in waves, especially with our clear height difference.
“Moving a meeting by three days without informing the lead designer, the creative consultant is sabotage, Roman."
"You asked for it." He spat.
I paused, disbelief clogging my brain."How the hell did I ask you to intentionally try to sabotage me? All I said was get your shit together and stop making things difficult, but clearly you're unable to do so!"
"I'll do whatever the hell I want." he snapped, standing in my face now. Glaring down at me, "I'll do what I want, however I want cause you work for me. I am your boss here, get that into your head, Alina. Don't you dare try to test me in front of my staff."
"Then don't try
to steal my ideas, Roman." I retorted, equally glaring. "What, are you also a thief in addition to your already rotten character?"
His eyes darkened, "What did you just call me?"
"Thief. T.H.I.E.F." I spelt out, "Are you a thief, Roman?"