FACE OFF
690 Words
In the spirit of moving forward, just before the close of work for the day, I had asked Elise to respond to the email from Cole & Vance, relaying a date for the revision. That was a little over a week ago; that date is today.
Saying yes should have felt like something.
It didn’t.
No rush. No shift I could name.
Just awareness.
Like something had moved slightly out of place and I had to decide whether to restore that order or let it stay disrupted, weighing my need for control against a growing urge to let things change.
My morning started the way it always did.
Grounded.
Safe.
Leo.
“Mommy, I can’t find my shoe!”
"It's where you left it," I said, packing his lunch.
“Mommy!” he said, whining.
“Ask Nanny Sheila for help, baby.”
A pause.
Then
“Oh.”
A small, relieved smile tugged at my mouth as he ran back in, beaming.
“Found it!”
“Good job”
He laughed.
Warmth threaded through me; for a moment, everything felt blissfully simple.
Contained.
Work reminded me who I was.
Or at least, who I chose to be.
“Elise.”
“Good morning, ma’am. Your 10 AM is set. And—” she hesitated briefly, “your 12 PM with Mr. Xavier from Cole & Vance is confirmed.”
Of course it was.
“Send the final drafts ahead of time,” I said. “I don’t like walking into meetings unprepared.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Neither did I like walking into meetings where I didn’t control the room.
He was already there,
waiting.
Xavier stood at the head of the table, his back turned to me, staring out at the city, or what he could see of it from there. He looked regal, his pose resembling that of a panther poised for action, determined.
That alone told me everything I needed to know about how this meeting would go.
“Xavier,” I called out.
“You've been avoiding me,” he stated without turning.
Not a question. A statement.
“Can we please talk business today?” I said, resigned, as I took a seat.
He turned around, facing me, his expression unreadable.
“Of course,” he replied flatly, scanning my face.
I gestured toward the seat across from me, and he obliged, taking a seat. Poise impeccable as always.
I began the presentation.
Because that’s what I did.
I led.
“This concept is centred on flow,” I said, bringing up the renderings. “It prioritises movement, visual and emotional, without overwhelming the user.”
He didn’t sit.
Didn’t interrupt.
He just watched.
And that, more than anything, put me on edge.
“Carry on,” he said.
I did.
“Material selection is intentional. Natural stone, tempered glass, warm metals refined, not excessive. The design speaks through restraint.”
A pause.
Then
“It’s safe.”
My breath caught for an instant as I looked up.
“Excuse me?”
He stepped forward slightly, tapping the screen with one finger.
“It’s clean. It’s polished. It works.”
Another tap.
“But it doesn’t lead.”
A chill ran up my spine; I straightened.
“This isn’t about theatrics. It’s about function.”
"It's about impact," he said. "This is a flagship, not residential."
My jaw tightened slightly. “I’m aware of the difference.”
“Are you?” he asked.
Silence.
Sharp.
Measured.
“You’re designing like you’re trying not to offend anyone,” he continued. “That’s not what I hired you for.”
I held his gaze.
“I don’t design to impress,” I said evenly. “I design to last.”
“And I build to dominate markets,” he replied without hesitation. “Not blend into them.”
That
That hit.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
But neither was I.
“You’re asking for spectacle,” I said. “That fades.”
“I’m asking for presence,” he countered. “That commands attention.”
A beat.
“And this doesn’t.”
The room stilled.
Completely.
- Writer
