Chapter 9
1015 Words
The contracts manager entered the room at a brisk pace. He carried a thick leather folder and a tablet so small it almost looked like a phone. There was a reddish stain, probably from food, on his gray suit. His graying hair was thinning at the temples. His blue eyes scanned the office before settling on Nathan.
“Good morning, Mr. Fletcher. I was informed that you’d like to review the case involving the ballet school.”
“Good morning.” Nathan gestured toward the chair in front of him. “I need to understand why the negotiation proposals were rejected.”
“We make all decisions according to company policy.” The manager raised his eyebrows, apparently confused, and sat down. “The tenant wanted to pay off the debt in installments over several months. We’ve never agreed to anything like that before.”
“Had she ever been late with a payment before?”
“No, Mr. Fletcher. All previous payments were made on time.”
“So there were no other late payments, complaints, or property damage during the entire four years. Correct?” Nathan suppressed a smile. He was beginning to see a possible way out. “A tenant with an impeccable record runs into financial trouble, and we evict her? Why?”
“We’re simply following the terms of the contract.”
“I think we’re going to have to reconsider that.”
“Well…” The manager seemed thoughtful for a moment.
“Any questions?”
“Mr. Fletcher… Don’t you think making exceptions could cause problems with the other tenants?”
“Not if we establish rules that distinguish between those who are trying to take advantage of us and those with excellent track records.”
“Understood.” He nodded with an uncertain smile.
—- —- —-
“All right, I understand… Thank you for your time.”
Sophia wanted to throw her phone against the floor, but she controlled the impulse and bit her lip hard.
It was already the fourth ballet school to reject her application.
Apparently, every studio in Manhattan had a full staff.
Her only option would be to try giving private lessons at her students’ homes.
Or move away.
But where would she go?
She had bought her apartment with the inheritance from her estranged father. The property had been so expensive it bordered on absurdity. Fifty square meters in Manhattan were worth a small fortune. The rest of the money had covered some furniture and the initial investment in the ballet studio.
Sophia couldn’t imagine her life anywhere else.
She stared silently at her phone.
Then, suddenly, an idea occurred to her.
Perhaps her last chance.
—- —- —-
The clock showed three in the afternoon when Sophia stopped in front of the building of the company that managed her lease.
The building was so tall that looking up made her dizzy.
She stared at the revolving doors and tried to summon the courage to go inside. She already knew exactly what she was going to say. She had spent hours rehearsing her arguments in her head.
But her churning stomach and racing heart kept her from moving.
If the landlord rejected her proposal, there would be no way to save the studio.
She would be lost.
Sophia wiped away a stubborn tear with trembling fingers.
She couldn’t show weakness. On the contrary, she had to look determined and responsible.
She studied her reflection in the glass and redid her ponytail. Her makeup was subtle, and her clothes were elegant without being excessive. She wanted to make a good impression.
She took several deep breaths and, after counting to ten, walked through the revolving doors.
She approached the marble reception desk. The receptionist, a young woman with Asian features, greeted her with a friendly smile.
“Good afternoon. I’m Sophia Dashwood…” The words escaped her for a moment. I’m the owner of the Joanne Dashwood Ballet Studio. I need to speak with the owner of the property.”
“Of course.” The receptionist smiled. “That would probably be Mr. Fletcher. Just a moment while I call him.”
Mr. Fletcher.
Sophia’s eyes widened.
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
No.
That would be too much of a coincidence.
The receptionist hung up the phone and looked back at Sophia.
“You can go up to the fourteenth floor. Look for Room 47.”
“Thank you very much.”
Sophia nearly tripped over her own feet as she headed toward the elevator. Her heart pounded fiercely against her chest. Her fingers trembled around the envelope containing all the documentation she needed to prove her impeccable payment history.
She tried to think positively.
She had to win this battle.
She swallowed hard as she stepped into the elevator. She waited as the small compartment climbed upward, her high heels repeatedly tapping against the floor.
She thought she might faint.
When the doors opened, she pushed her nerves aside and focused on finding Room 47. She walked quickly, her shoes making soft clicking sounds against the floor.
It took no more than two or three minutes to find it.
Through the glass door, she could see a minimalist office decorated with plants, abstract paintings, and shades of gray and brown. Inside, there were bookshelves, a coffee machine, a counter, and a white door.
She pressed the doorbell.
When the secretary—a gray-haired woman with a slightly hunched posture—answered, Sophia allowed a smile to spread across her face.
“Good afternoon. My name is Sophia Dashwood. I’m looking for Mr. Fletcher.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.” Her smile faded.
“I’ll ask if he can see you. You can wait inside.”
As soon as Sophia stepped into the office, she recognized the scent of his woody cologne.
It couldn’t be.
She barely had time to process what was happening.
The white door suddenly opened.
And when their eyes met, Sophia’s chest seemed to catch fire.
Nathan.
- Writer
