THE DEAL BETWEEN US

Mark Cooper

The boardroom felt colder than it did an hour ago.

The long glass table was freshly reset, documents aligned on it . Bottles of water untouched . The faint hum of the projector filled the room.

Mother sat across from me, composed as ever. My father stood near the window, phone pressed to his ear, nodding slowly as he listened.

“They’re already in the building,” he said after ending the call.

“In the building? They're early ". I said.

"Remember Cassandra , if you're not okay with meeting this company , we can say you were busy and just give you the briefings later". My mom said trying to comfort me.

"Hindi ma " ( no mom) , It's just one representative, I can handle it". I said.

"Good" . She replied.

I straightened in my chair, forcing my shoulders back. Whatever history I had with the company, I could bury it under professionalism. I always did.

“This is an important collaboration,” my father added. “Let’s keep things… cordial.”

"Who's this representative again"? I asked.

"About that, the company called thirty minutes ago and said they were sending another representative due to company decision, but I don't remember his name ". My dad said.

"Uggh" . I scoffed. "Changing representatives thirty minutes to the assigned time very unprofessional, coming from a well-recognized and organized company. Or maybe they just don't rate us enough to—..

"Stop! . For the sake of today , Cassandra put whatever grudge you have with that Company behind you". My dad said.

I gave a tight smile. “Of course.”

The door opened.

I didn’t look up immediately. I was busy adjusting my pen. Grounding myself.

“Good morning,” a voice said.

Softly. Almost politely.

My hand froze mid-movement.

The air shifted, thickened, like the room itself had inhaled and forgotten how to breathe.

I knew that voice.

Slowly—too slowly—I looked up.

And there he was.

Mark Cooper.

He walked in like he owned the space.

Tailored suit. Awful Confident stride. That same infuriating ease that had always followed him—back then, now, always. His eyes swept the room once, briefly, professionally… and then they landed on me.

And there it was.

That smirk.

Not surprise. Not recognition.

No—recognition was there, buried deep.

This was deliberate.

Mark Cooper looked at me like a stranger he found mildly amusing.

My fingers curled slowly against the arm of my chair.

My father straightened beside me. “Ah,” he said pleasantly. “You must be the representative.”

Mark inclined his head and extended his hands for a handshake that my dad returned with a smile.“Mark Cooper,” he said smoothly. “CEO, Cooper Industries.”

"Show off". I scoffed under my breath.

My mother blinked. “We were informed a representative would be attending.”

“Yes,” Mark replied easily. “A last-minute decision. I wanted to oversee this personally.”

He looked at me again.

The smirk deepened—just a fraction. And I got pissed off even more.

My father noticed.

He smiled. “Well, that’s admirable. You seem… enthusiastic.”

I almost laughed.

Instead, I stood.

The sound of my chair scraping lightly against the floor cut through the room.

“No,” I said calmly. Too calmly. “This is inappropriate.”

All eyes turned to me.

“This meeting was scheduled for a representative,” I continued, my voice clipped and precise. “Not a CEO. Replacing personnel thirty minutes before an official engagement is unprofessional and frankly—disrespectful.”

Mark raised a brow, amused. “Is it?”

“Yes,” I said flatly. “And if Cooper Industries cannot follow basic corporate protocol, then perhaps this collaboration was a mistake.”

The room went quiet.

My mother’s gaze sharpened, beaming with warnings than pleas—but I was already too far gone.

Mark tilted his head. “Interesting,” he said. “Because from where I stand, this is a meeting between decision-makers.”

He gestured lightly. “You’re a CEO, aren’t you?”

The words landed like a challenge.

I met his eyes. Held them.

“Yes,” I said. “I am.”

A beat.

My father cleared his throat. “Cassandra—"

“I’ll proceed,” I interrupted, not breaking eye contact with Mark. “Out of respect for my parents and for the fact that you were punctual. But let’s be clear.”

I leaned forward slightly.

“This is business and you should learn to be professional. Nothing more.”

His lips curved again.

Nonchalant. Unbothered.

“As you wish,” he said. “I’m here for the same reason.”

"Liar ". I said inaudibly.

The meeting moved on, but the tension didn’t ease.

Every time our eyes met, that smirk returned. Lazy. Provoking. Unrepentant.

I spoke when necessary. Sharp. Efficient. Cold .

And I shot down every one of his opinion. I was bent on making his life today a living hell.

He listened like none of it touched him.

And that—

that was what made me want to drag him straight to hell by his tie.

Finally, the meeting concluded.

Chairs shifted. Documents were gathered. Polite smiles resurfaced.

Mark stood and extended his hand toward me.

“Pleasure doing business,” he said.

I looked at his hand.

Then at his face.

Then back at his hand.

“No,” I said.

“I don’t shake hands with people who replace professionalism with arrogance,” I added coolly. “Besides—”

I smiled.

“Your hands might be dirty.”

A pause.

“And frankly,” I finished, “they look… rather stinky.”

"And I am a huge germaphobic. Don't want to treat a flu that I could have avoided

My father inhaled sharply.

My mother said nothing , disappointed.

Mark’s smile didn’t reach his eyes this time.

But it was there.

“I see,” he said quietly.

I turned away without another word walking towards the door.

Behind me, I felt it—

the burn of his gaze.

And for the first time since he’d walked in…

That smirk was gone.

And I Smirked "this is just the beginning Cooper, this is just the beginning.. I said inaudibly ". Satisfaction curled in my chest as I walked out of the room. I'm going to share this good news with Michael.