Chapter Four – First Collision
1356 Words
The countdown was finally due, and the boardroom of the Graham Group was all set to hold the briefing with Crown Events–in a couple of hours. Jane had sent Aima to seal the deal. And this time, she wasn't delivering flowers or designs, she was sent to lead. She promised herself to treat the meeting just like any other client appointment–professional and impersonal.
Carl sat in his rotating chair at his office. Morning sunlight flashing through the window, reflecting his radiant light skin. The thought of meeting Aima again in the name of “work” fascinated him–though he kept a calm expression. As he flipped through some documents, the door swung open.
“Hi darling.”
Lillian Quinn stood at the doorway with a smile, and the poise of someone born for the cameras. Tall, slender, confident, with a distinct scent.
“Lillian, you didn't tell me you were coming.”
“Are you not going to allow me in?” she said with a soft voice.
“You didn't need my permission to open the door, why would you need my permission to enter?”
She catwalked towards him, grabbed his hand and kissed the back. “Good to see you again.”
“You look…expensive.” Carl complimented her. Her melodic and false laughter was loud in the room–as she placed her bag on his table and gave herself a seat.
“Your father asked me to stop by.”
“For?”
“For you.”
Carl sighed, and shook his head.
“You didn't inform me about today's briefing.”
“You weren't on the schedule.”
“I never am. I just…appear.” She replied, forcing a laugh.
“Anyway, your dad wants me by your side at the gala, and I'll surely be there.” She said with a smile, and flicked a strand of blond hair behind her ear.
“Standing beside a Graham still means something you know, even if that Graham is unavailable emotionally.”
Carl became uncomfortable, but masked a cool expression and didn't respond. He continued flipping through his documents, uninterested in her conversation.
“I'll see you at the gala, Lillian.” He finally said. By implication, asking her to leave.
Lillian rose from her seat. “Of course you will.” She said, walking towards him. She leaned closer, held his chin and pegged his cheeks. She then took her bag and catwalked out. Carl sat staring at her with raised eyebrows as she exited the door. Her last words were light, but had a deeper meaning to it.
Aima absent mindedly raked her fingers through her curly hair, and spritzed perfume behind her ears for one last time, as the driver packed at the premises of Graham head office. She reminded herself once more why she was there: professional appointment, not intimidation.
“Confidence Aima.” She murmured to herself, adjusted her blazer and stepped out of the hired car–fully conscious of every breath she took.
“Welcome Miss Deville, Mr Graham is expecting you.” Christine, Carl's assistant welcomed her and led her into a long hallway. At this point, Aima was unsure if her nervousness came from anticipation, or the great force the name “Graham” carried.
Coincidentally, they bumped into Lillian in the hallway. She walked past them without uttering a word, while they also headed to the boardroom unbothered.
Aima arrived early, and sat across the long table at the boardroom with a straight posture. Julian sat at her immediate left, with Christine also in attendance. Then Carl walked in. He entered like he owned the air. No tuxedo this time, just a dark-blue long sleeve shirt–looking more human.
“Miss Deville,” he mentioned. “Punctuality–I appreciate that.”
“I like to be prepared.” She replied evenly.
“So I've noticed. You look good by the way.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
Julian suddenly cleared his throat. But Carl couldn't hold back his smile.
“Thanks. Shall we?”
“Yes.” She responded.
The meeting began with Crown Event’s proposed theme: Symphony of light, projected boldly, with mock-ups unfolding.
“We want the event to feel more like a transformation–a story of growth told in light. Aima said, with her voice gaining momentum. Carl listened attentively, with crossed arms. For once, he didn't interrupt.
“Your foundation funds sustainability, innovation, and everything that starts with change. So instead of a static feel, we want light evolving throughout the night. And for the usual centerpieces, we'll have glass sculptures.”
Christine was carefully taking down notes as Aima explained their vision for the gala with confidence–detailing seating arrangements, mirrored installations, the play of light, and everything concerning production.
“Slendid.” Carl finally said. “But impractical.”
Aima blinked twice. “Impractical…how?”
“The mirrored installation is a safety hazard, and the overhead lighting will be too reflective for photography.” Carl explained.
Aima managed her composure, embracing the first storm.
“With respect, Mr Graham, we have done events with similar installations and they were flawless.”
“Not my event.”
At this moment, Aima was feeling a flare of irritation.
“I don't think you hired us to plan for mediocrity Mr Graham, because we don't.”
Carl remained silent for a moment. “You're sure of yourself?”
“We are sure of our work sir.”
Julian sat at his corner with sleeves rolled up, quietly watching their exchange with amusement for the past forty-five minutes. Then he cleared his throat softly, breaking the tension.
“Well…I for one, I'm convinced. I think you should allow her to do her thing.” He finally spoke.
Carl looked at Julian, then at Aima. For a moment he sat quietly, steepling his fingers on the table.
“Approved.” He finally said. “I'm trusting you with full creative control. Don't make me regret it.”
“You won't Mr Graham.” She replied.
“But keep me updated on all expenditures. I don't like surprises.”
“Neither do I, Mr Graham.” Julian grinned at that. But Carl didn't say a word. He just kept watching her with narrow eyes like ‘who's this girl.’
The meeting eventually ended after they came to a consensus. Aima began gathering her things when Carl stretched out his hand for a handshake.
“Thank you for coming.” Their palms firmly gripped. “I want to have a word with you…just a minute.” He added. Not commanding or pleading–something in between. Julian gave Carl a wink, as he exited the boardroom with Christine–allowing them some privacy.
They both sat in silence for a while–Carl not knowing where to begin. He set his phone aside.
“I apologise for–”
“It's alright Mr Graham.” Aima interrupted.
“You challenge things I didn't realise could be challenged.” He said, looking straight into her eyes. The honesty in his words stunned her, leaving her speechless.
It's been long since anyone said no to him. Most people tried to impress him. But Aima made him want to listen. Carl knew he was breaking his own rules. Because he never mixed business with interest. But here he was, butterflies in his belly–admiring how alive and beautiful she looked.
“Care for a ride?”
“Thanks Mr Graham, my driver is waiting outside.”
“Guess I have to release you then.”
Aima nodded in response. “I guess so.”
Just when she was about to leave, Carl's voice stopped her.
“How about dinner together at my place …maybe I can get to know more about my client.” Completely untrue. But he smiled–a small genuine one.
“It would be nice to hang out with you outside work.” He added.
“But Mr Graham, that's–”
“Tomorrow night. Don't overthink it.”
- Writer
