The massive living room of Luca Meyer's apartment was cast in a deep, private gloom. It was well past midnight, and the city's electric hum was the only sound filtering through the high end, soundproof windows. The light in the room was dim and yellow, pulled from recessed fixtures that threw long dramatic shadows across the polished marble floor.
It was the kind of lighting that felt expensive and solitary.
Luca sat deep in the butter soft leather of a vast, modern armchair. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants that hung low on his lean, powerful hips. The fabric stretched slightly over the defined muscles of his thighs and the taut flatness of his stomach, hinting at a body sculpted by rigorous discipline. This was not a physique built for show, but maintained with the same unwavering focus he applied to everything he did. His presence in the room was quiet, intense and utterly commanding.. a subtle force that filled the space around him.
He was holding a heavy, crystal glass half filled with amber Scotch, the single malt catching the dull yellow light as he gently swirled it. The scent of aged oak and peat smoke was a familiar, comforting presence in the late night silence. His posture was usually ramrod straight, but now he was slightly slouched, one arm resting over the back of the chair. Yet, even in this relaxed state, his signature neutral expression held firm, masking the churn of his thoughts.
Tonight, however that neutral mask was betraying a quiet intensity. He was in deep thought, replaying the bizarre awkward, and surprisingly intriguing date with Sasha. He kept coming back to her final, panicked question..
"Can we do this again?" It was an unfiltered moment of human confusion, so unlike the calculated ambition he usually encountered. It was an anomaly he couldn't neatly file away.
He took a slow, deliberate sip of the Scotch, the warmth doing nothing to settle the agitation in his mind. He was trying to analyze the situation, to find a logical framework for what was, by definition, an illogical human ritual.
If she wasn't interested in him for his money or power, what was the next step? He felt a sudden, intellectual need for data, for precedent to structure this foreign territory called 'dating.' His mind, trained for corporate takeovers and logistical efficiency, needed a manual.
With a sudden, decisive movement he leaned forward, placing the Scotch glass carefully on the black lacquer table in front of him. He reached for his phone, the screen lighting up his neutral face. He scrolled quickly through his contacts until he found the name, Julie.
He dialed the number. It was 1:00 AM, but Luca, the eternal workaholic, rarely considered the time zones of others, especially when pursuing essential research.
The line connected after two full rings. "How did your relation in high school break up?" he asked immediately, without a greeting, without preamble. His voice, deep and composed, cut straight to the intellectual core of his query.
A beat of silence hung on the line, followed by a sharp, frustrated click as the person on the other end ended the call.
Luca slowly lowered the phone, his eyebrow raised slightly as he stared at the dark screen. It was an unexpected response to a factual question. Inefficient.
Suddenly, the screen lit up again. It was a text message from the contact 'Julie.'
It read: 'you crazy, insomaniac'
He grit his teeth, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he gripped the phone. He almost sent back a terse reply about the importance of empirical data, but then he noticed the time displayed in the corner of the screen, 1:00 AM. He hadn't even considered that julie might be sleeping. A faint realization of his social incompetence washed over him, a tiny chink in his armor of perfection. He sighed, tossing the phone onto the leather cushion beside him.
He would ask Ayaan tomorrow.
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
The next morning, the shrill insistent wail of Sasha's alarm dragged her from a shallow sleep. She whined, groaning and rolling over trying to bury her head under the pillow. Just five more minutes of blissful ignorance. She was so lazy to wake up, the weight of the blanket a familiar, comforting prison.
Then, the events of the previous night slammed into her mind like a physical blow.
She jolted upright, sitting instantly in the center of the bed, wide eyed and frozen. Luca. The date. The second date.
A wave of pure, paralyzing anxiety washed over her. How could she face him today? Her mind immediately launched into a frantic self soothing dialogue.
"No, no… don't need to panic," she whispered, rubbing her hands vigorously over her face. "He is a workaholic, he's probably already forgotten the whole thing and is focused on the Q3 reports. He won't even look at me until it's something strictly related to work. I'll just be a professional machine. So, cool, Sasha, cool. Everything's going to be fine." She recited the mantra like a nervous prayer, trying to convince the butterflies fluttering violently in her stomach.
Just as she was about to throw her legs over the side of the bed and finally stand up, her phone rang again. Mom.
Sasha sighed, a long weary sound, but she knew she couldn't ignore it now. She snatched the phone and answered.
"Hello, Mom listen" she cut in, her voice quick and defensive. "I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is yes, the blind date went well, Very well. And yes, there will probably be a second date too. Happy? Now, I really have to go, I'm getting late. I'll call you tonight." With that, she ended the call without waiting for a reply and tossed the phone onto the bed. She knew her mother would be elated and immediately start planning a reception, but Sasha simply didn't have the mental capacity to manage that explosion of maternal joy right now.
What followed was a marathon inside the apartment. She was running everywhere. She darted to the kitchen for a quick bite, snatching a piece of toast and chugging a glass of orange juice while simultaneously trying to pull on her skirt and gather her purse and laptop bag. She was a whirlwind of frantic energy, getting ready in a chaotic rush that was typical for her.
She was just slipping her foot into her last shoe when the door clicked open. Kavya strolled in, looking tired but cheerful after her night shift at the hospital.
Kavya's eyes immediately widened with anticipation. She dropped her heavy hospital bag and moved swiftly, excitedly holding Sasha's hand just above her elbow, stopping her mid motion. "Tell me..! What happened yesterday? You hot CEO! Details, woman, details!"
Sasha gave her a sharp, stern look that quickly dissolved into panicked urgency. "Definitely not now, Kavya... I am already late! I have to pick my car up from the service shop before heading to the office! You go to bed and get some sleep. And yes, I ate your food in the fridge, but I ordered a replacement meal for you. Bye!"
She pulled her arm free, grabbed her keys and bags, and practically sprinted to the door.
Kavya could only shake her head, disappointment mixed with a fond, knowing adoration. "Huh… this clumsy one…" she muttered, watching Sasha's frantic exit. Kavya knew her friend well enough not to pursue her when she was in a work panic mode. She smiled to herself. Sasha had survived the CEO.
That alone was a miracle.
Sasha, meanwhile had reached the elevator, heart still pounding from the combined effort of the date, the panic and the morning sprint. She quickly hailed a taxi on the street, directing the driver to the service center where her Audi A4 sedan was being repaired.
The short ride gave her a few minutes to breathe and regain her composure. She tried to focus on the work agenda, forcing Luca Meyer back into the box labeled 'CEO, Professional Contact.' But it was no use. The knowledge that she would see him, that he was now aware of her complete, mortifying awkwardness was a persistent, electric hum beneath her professional mask.
After a short time, she reached the service center, paid the taxi and completed the paperwork for her car. Within minutes, she was back on the road, merging into the heavy morning traffic, her own car feeling like a familiar, protective shell. Her professional fortress was back online.
She drove toward the towering, ambitious glass structures of the Business Bay, heading straight for the building where Luca Meyer was waiting. The thought made her grip the steering wheel tighter. The second date was set, but first.. she had to survive going back to the office.
[To be continued]