The Billionaire's Inconvenience

Chapter 2

Ashford Global was a building that was designed to make people feel utterly small and inconspicuous. It did. The large tower stood unopposed on Sixth Avenue, Manhattan, fifty-two floors high in a column of dark glass and steel so precise it seemed the building had always existed and the city had simply grown around it.

The details around the building were brief. No ornamental design or aesthetic to give the illusion of warmth, simply because there was no single kind of warmth present, unless you include the expensive heating systems integrated into the building. Aside from that, Ashford Global was cold, corporate, and serious, with "corporate" used to describe it as the most organized and white-collar institution one could imagine.

Vivienne stood across the pavement looking high up at the building, and as she peered up at the thick glass walls, she couldn't help but wonder what it took to build such a structure. Sure, she had definitely seen high, strong, and elegant buildings that screamed statements and class, but that was the difference between this building and the others she was familiar with.

Ashford Global didn't scream. It was the architectural equivalent of a man who had never raised his voice simply because he had never needed to; in fact, it didn't speak at all. She crossed the street and walked towards the building, and with each step, her heartbeat was a little faster. She finally got into the building, and it took all of her mother's lectures on sophistication not to leave her mouth hanging open.

The lobby was vast, cold, and immaculate. Italian marble stretched from wall to wall in a grey so pale it was almost white, the ceiling rising forty feet above it, and the only sound was the disciplined tap of footsteps and the low murmur of conversations kept short on instinct. Three receptionists were staffed a desk of black lacquered stone, consisting of one man between two ladies.

Each of them was composed in the particular way of people trained never to look surprised. Behind them, a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass framed the skyline not as scenery, but as inventory. The whole building was enveloped in an atmosphere of formality, so it would be difficult to get a sense of the place.

The views? top-notch. The air? cool, conducive, spectacular, with a work environment that, ironically seems healthy, collaborative, and employee-friendly. The atmosphere was stern but favorable; it was as if everyone was free enough to carry out their various duties in a manner they deemed fit, but with the knowledge of a big bad wolf waiting to pounce if one crossed the line. And the line was thin indeed.

The staff at Ashford Global were impeccably dressed. The men in dark suits cut close and worn without personality, ties knotted with a tightness that seemed less about appearance and more about restraint. The women appeared proper in their structured blazers and heels that struck the marble floors with a sound so sharp it felt like punctuation.

No one wore colors that demanded attention or carried anything unnecessary. Even their watches seemed more like part of the dress code than personal choices, since they all looked similar and matched.

Vivienne looked down at her short, neon-pink skirt suit and couldn't help but feel out of place, an emotion she'd never felt before, as she often filled rooms with her aura and undeniable presence. She approached the desk and was greeted with three friendly smiles, not too much but just enough to put you at ease. It seemed to be given with the knowledge that the building was intimidating enough, so guests didn't need to be made to feel more uncomfortable than they already did.

The smiles did nothing to calm her nerves but only made her feel more skeptical. "Hello, good morning. I'm here to see Dean Ashford," she said as her eyes kept moving from one to the other, finally settling on the female on the left-hand side. She had a more welcoming look, making it easier to address her first. Vivienne wondered whether other visitors felt the same way when they arrived.

"Okay, give me a minute," she responded as she punched in some keys on the system in front of her. "Oh, miss, your appointment is for 11am, and it's only 10:15am. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until the appointed time". Great.

"Does he have any appointments at the moment? If he's free, can the time for the appointment be moved up so that I can go ahead and meet with him?"

All three receptionists gave her a brief look, and the two other receptionists glanced at themselves very quickly, but not quickly enough to go unnoticed by her. "I'm sorry, miss, that is of no consequence, as you would have to wait until your appointed time before you can go in to see him. You're free to go out and come back, but please keep in mind that if you're five minutes late, the appointment will have to be canceled or moved to another day."

"Are you kidding me?" Vivienne gave her an astonished look. "No, miss," she responded with a little smile as if to tell her that it was simply what it was. She looked at her time again. 10:15 now. She just had to wait another forty-five minutes. "Very well then. I'll wait."

She looked around the monochromatic lobby, and at one corner were neatly arranged plush couches for guests who were asked to wait. Two men and three women were already seated there, and she wondered whether they were all waiting to see him.

"Do I sit there and wait?" she pointed to the corner where the chairs were. "Yes, miss," she responded. Miss. Vivienne thought as she walked to the corner. It was very presumptuous of her to think that she was a miss; what if she were a Mrs? Well, there was no ring on her finger, so she was hardly wrong about her marital status.

But there was once a time... she remembered the diamond rock that used to sit on her finger, almost a year ago. The ring usually walked into a room before her and turned as many heads as were present whenever she walked in. Now thinking back to how everything ended, she shouldn't have sent the ring back to him; she should have pawned it. Not because she needed the money but purely out of spite.

She looked around the lobby and kept herself entertained by watching the staff come and go. They looked like robots to her, and she found it so amusing she had to stifle a laugh.

Quietly observing her vicinity, she knew she'd rather stay jobless than work in a place like this, not because anything was wrong with it, but because of how much she hated rules. A place such as this was only suitable for people who loved their lives to be defined and structured.

Mostly for nerds and white-collar folks. You had to have a certain degree of obsession with executive enterprises to thrive in a place such as this, and she was not cut out for it in any way, shape, or form. "Miss. He'll see you now", she jerked her head around to see the receptionist beside her. She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice when she came up to her.

She looked at her watch, 11:02am. "Welp," she replied, getting up. "I'd better hurry up now, it would suck to have the appointment canceled while I'm still in the building."

Her only response was a soft smile and a "this way, please." She followed her to the elevator and waited for her to punch it open. The sight that greeted her was an interior lined with three long, thick glass mirrors on each side of the elevator. "His office is on the forty-eighth floor. Just punch it in, and it will take you straight to his office."

"Alright. Thank you". Another soft smile before the clicking away of her heels. Vivienne didn't know why her heart suddenly started racing. Everything seemed to be happening too fast. Closing her eyes, she dragged in a long breath because she knew one thing for certain, and it was that the man she was on her way to meet was going to be the biggest challenge she had faced in a long time.