Falling For Mr. Tyson

Lion's Den

Chloe

A gentle but persistent tapping on my shoulder pulled me out of a heavy, dreamless sleep. I groaned as my head pounded with an emotional hangover. I forced my eyelids open against the bright New York sun streaming through the window.

"Hey, sleepyhead, wake up," Nina breezed through the room already dressed for work, coffee in hand. "When exactly did you sneak back in last night? I checked your room at midnight and it was empty. Didn't you say you were going to have a wild, romantic night celebrating with your-"

The words died in her throat. She went rigid, lowering the mug as her hazel eyes locked on my face.

"What the f**k happened to your face?" Her playful tone vanished and she dropped onto the edge of my mattress. "Chloe, your eyes are completely swollen. Were you crying? Wait... did you and Dalton have a fight?"

At his name a sharp ache bloomed in my chest, and yesterday's images flashed behind my eyelids in a brutal loop. I'd rushed to his apartment to surprise him with the biggest news of my career, and he'd handed me betrayal instead. What a sick, twisted irony!

"Chloe, you're scaring me," Nina pressed, anxiety creeping into her voice. "Why are you quiet? Tell me what happened."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the ceiling. "I broke up with Dalton."

"What?!" The word bounced off the walls, and I couldn't tell if it was shock or secret triumph over her long-standing pancake grudge. But when I turned to her, her jaw was dropped in genuine confusion. Yesterday I'd floated out of the office to see him. Today I was a broken shell.

"Chloe, how? Why?" Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. "What did he do?"

I took a ragged breath and told her everything. The unlocked door, the muffled moans from the corridor, the red-haired woman screaming, and Dalton's audacity in blaming my career for his infidelity.

By the time I finished, Nina's face was a mask of rage and her knuckles were white around the mug.

"That absolute piece of trash!" She exploded off the bed and started pacing. "That spineless, cheating, narcissistic scumbag! I knew it! My gut is never wrong! If I ever see him on the street, Chloe, I swear I'll run him over with a subway train!"

Despite the crushing weight in my chest, a small, watery smile broke through my tears at her fierce loyalty. "A subway train, Nina? Really?"

"Yes! And then I'll back it up and run over him again!" Nina stopped pacing and rushed back to wrap her arms around my shoulders. "It's okay. Cry it out. That loser didn't deserve a single hair on your head. You're brilliant, you're beautiful, and I promise you'll find a real man who knows how to cherish you. Forget that cheap scumbag."

She pulled back and wiped tears from my cheeks with her thumbs, but the moment she did a violent sneeze ripped through me.

Nina flinched and pressed her hand to my forehead. "Oh no. Are you sick? Your skin feels clammy."

"I'm fine," I croaked, my voice sounding completely congested. "I think I just caught a cold from running through that freezing rain yesterday."

"Absolutely not. You're staying in bed," Nina ordered, pointing at me. "I'm calling the office. You're skipping work today."

"No, Nina, I can't," I argued, throwing off the duvet and swinging my legs over the side, ignoring the wave of dizziness. "Today's massive. The Tyson project brief lands in our inbox this morning and I'm the lead creative. I'm not letting some cheating ex ruin my career milestone. I'm going."

Nina studied me for a long beat, then sighed with respect in her eyes. "Fine. But we're stopping at the pharmacy on the way, and I'm pumping you full of cold pills."

"Deal."

"Good," she smirked, heading for the door. "Now go shower and wash your hair, because you look like absolute shit."

"Hey!" I laughed, energy surging back as I grabbed my pillow and fired it at her head.

Nina shrieked and ducked, the pillow hitting the doorframe as her laughter echoed down the hallway.

Alone in my room, Dalton's betrayal still lingered like a phantom weight, but the crushing darkness was gone. I walked into the bathroom, turned the shower on hot, and looked at my foggy reflection. I was done crying over the past. It was time to get ready for the Tyson Grand Hotel, and the big day ahead!

★★★

The last three weeks passed in a frantic, exhausting blur, but finally, the wait was over.

Today was pitching day! We had worked ourselves completely to the bone - sleepless nights, surviving on caffeine, restarting our design concepts from scratch just to ensure we had a masterpiece that would dominate the competition. My heart was practically a drum against my ribs.

"Oh my god," Anna gasped, her face pressed against the window of the company van. "The place is absolutely massive."

Our van rolled to a stop in front of the towering glass-and-steel monolith that was Tyson Corp Headquarters. We stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk and my eye's automatically drinking in the structure. A soaring facade of ultra-reflective blue glass and brushed titanium beams that seemed to pierce straight through the low-hanging New York clouds.

"Massive is an understatement," Nina agreed, tilting her head back to admire the shimmering skyscraper. "I can't even count how many floors are up there."

"Forget the architecture," Shane chimed in, grabbing a heavy tripod from the trunk. "I'm dying to see how the CEO looks in real life. That man just topped the Forbes list as the number one richest man and he's a complete ghost in the media."

"Exactly," Nina countered, crossing her arms. "He's probably ancient. A grumpy, wrinkled old billionaire who fiercely avoids cameras."

I stared up at the building, thinking of the countless hours Nina and I had spent searching for his photo online. Every result was blurred paparazzi shots from a distance or sterile corporate graphics. The media only ever discussed his cutthroat business strategies and his chain of ultra-luxury hotels across the country. The only personal details the internet ever yielded were that he was a single father of two and had recently finalized a brutal, highly publicized divorce. Hendrix Tyson was a ghost by choice!

"He's probably seventy and wears a toupee," Anna teased, nudging Shane.

"Please. His net worth has more digits than your phone number," Shane shot back.

Nina pointed a finger between them. "You two should seriously just date already. I swear this is a live-action enemies-to-lovers trope."

"Ewww!" Anna and Shane shouted in perfect, horrified unison.

"Okay, guys, enough," I interrupted, stepping into the center of the group. "Today is the biggest day of our careers. We poured everything into this design and we cannot let anything destroy this moment. Let's give it everything we've got."

We stacked our hands together and on the count of three shouted, "Fighting!"

We pushed through the heavy glass revolving doors and I caught my breath instantly. The lobby was a masterpiece of cold, opulent minimalism with polished Calacatta marble floors gleaming under a soaring four-story atrium ceiling, sunlight flooding from above and reflecting off water features cascading down walls of raw black granite.

Gosh, was this real!!!

We approached the receptionist. The elegant woman behind the counter smiled and said someone would escort us up.

Seconds later, a sharp-dressed assistant stepped off the elevator. "ABC Interiors? I'm Michael. I'll be escorting you up to the executive floor today."

We followed him into a glass elevator that made my stomach drop, shooting upward with a dizzying view of the skyline before arriving at a quiet, intimidating waiting room on the 50th floor. Michael handed us each a card with our presentation order and my chest tightened immediately. We were last to pitch.

The first firm was called. And after twenty agonizing minutes later they walked out completely pale and defeated. Then the second firm - Gray Interiors - was called.

I watched their leader frantically reapply lipstick, smooth down her tight designer dress, and adjust her neckline before squealing to her assistant, "I can't wait to see the CEO. Do I look perfect?"

Nina leaned into my ear. "Is she seriously trying to seduce him? She looks like a desperate worm."

I burst out laughing and slapped her arm. "Nina, stop it!"

She nudged me back, her face softening. "But hey - are you sure you're ready for this, Chlo?"

"Of course I am," I said, and I genuinely meant it. For three weeks I had channeled every ounce of heartbreak into this project. Dalton had spammed my phone with voicemails and begging texts but I hadn't wavered once. I'd blocked him everywhere and left strict instructions with our building security never to let him past the lobby.

The heavy mahogany doors swung open. Michael stepped out, his eyes finding mine.

"ABC Interiors... you're next."

I took a deep breath, and together we gripped our design boards, stood up, and marched straight into the lion's den.