Chapter 2: Mr. Arrogant
856 Words
Amelia
The room went very still.
Adrian continued. His voice, absent of emotion. "It’s really clear that very little work went into this. I don’t see the level of depth I expected. It feels predictable. Like something I’ve seen recycled across half a dozen luxury rebrands."
My jaw tightened before I could stop it.
What the heck? I know he didn't just say that. I know he didn't just criticize the strategy; he dismissed my effort. Two weeks of my life, summarized as a "waste."
"And this is clearly not worth my time," he added.
That did it. Because no. Absolutely not. If he wanted to critique my work, fine. That was business.
But dismissing two weeks of strategy like it was a rushed group project? Yeah… we weren’t doing that.
"With all due respect, Mr. Langford," I began evenly, meeting his gaze directly, "I can assure you that a very significant amount of work went into this proposal."
Across the table, I felt my boss go very still. Adrian's brows arched slightly.
"Oh?" he said.
"Yes," I replied calmly. "The repositioning plan is based on your hotel’s performance over the last three years and not on general luxury trends.”
He leaned forward slightly.
"Well then," he said smoothly, "can you explain why your digital strategy leaves out wealthy clients from 25-35 years of age in New York? You focused on people in their forties and above and ignored an entire group of people who have money to spend."
"It doesn’t ignore..."
"Amelia." Mr. Hillary interrupted, gentle but firm. The warning was clear. I pressed my lips together.
Slowly, I exhaled and walked back toward my seat, even though irritation still simmered under my skin.
If he didn’t like it, there were definitely more professional ways to say it.
Honestly, why was I even surprised.
The man was exactly what the rumors said: a cold, arrogant statue who thought his achievements gave him the right to be a jerk.
Mr. Hillary quickly interfered. "We appreciate the feedback, Mr. Langford. We’ll revisit the areas you highlighted."
Adrian gave one short nod while standing up.
Just like that, the meeting was over.
Mr. Hillary stood again to shake hands with Adrian and his assistant before escorting them out.
I only realized I was still slightly tense when Casey nudged my elbow lightly.
"If that was anyone else talking back to Adrian Langford," she whispered, "I’d be shocked."
I rolled my eyes. "Please."
"But then it’s you?" she added with a grin. "Not surprised at all."
I shook my head.
Back at our workstation, Megan immediately leaned forward. "Okay, how was it?"
I dropped into my chair.
"Apparently," I said dryly, opening my laptop, "I didn’t put enough work into it."
Megan’s mouth fell open. "You’re kidding."
"I wish."
"But you’ve literally been working on that proposal for weeks."
"Exactly."
Casey, however, looked far too amused.
"He is fine, though," she said dreamily.
Both of us turned to stare at her.
I blinked slowly. "Are you serious right now?"
Megan burst out laughing. "Casey, please get a grip."
Casey only shrugged, completely unrepentant.
Mr. Hillary stepped into the office.
"Amelia," he called.
I looked up. "Sir."
He walked to my desk, then picked up my tablet from where I had set it earlier. His fingers moved across the screen, slower this time, reviewing the sections Adrian had pointed out.
"I want you to work on what he corrected," he said, matter-of-fact.
I nodded once. "Alright."
He tapped the screen lightly. "Your foundation is strong. It just needs refinement, especially the positioning angle and the campaign structure."
"I’ll fix it tonight," I said.
"Good," he replied. "Let’s make sure the next version leaves no room for criticism." He handed the tablet back to me before leaving.
The rest of the afternoon blurred into edits, notes, and me fixing the parts of the proposal a certain cold-eyed CEO had decided to tear apart.
By the time evening rolled around, my brain felt like it had run a marathon.
We packed up almost at the same time.
"See you tomorrow!" Megan and Casey called.
"Bye," I replied, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
Outside, the air was cooler, calmer, a sharp contrast to the day I’d had.
I slid into my car and shut the door, finally allowing myself a long breath.
What a day.
Before I could start the engine, my phone lit up. I looked at the caller ID, it was my mom.
My expression softened immediately as I answered.
"Hey, Mom."
"Amelia, sweetheart," she said warmly, "you’re still coming over today, right?"
"Yeah," I said, already reaching for my seatbelt. "I’m on my way."
"Good. I’m expecting you."
The call ended, and some of the tension I’d been carrying all day eased just a little.
On the drive over, I made a quick stop at a small pastry shop and picked up a box of the cookies and mini cakes my mom loved.
If nothing else, dessert always put her in a good mood.
After paying, I headed back to my car and pulled into the evening traffic.
- Writer
