gliding over little roundabouts and swiftly out of traffic. The ride was very comfortable to the say the least; the lines on my forehead and sweaty palms were a reminder that I had no actual plan and was winging it by the second.

I take a deep breath and a moment to recollect my composure, stepping out, locking the car behind me and slowly beginning my descent to the glass monstrosity that has ASTERIO labelled out in clean bold letters. It took me at least twenty minutes to find a parking spot as Mayfair is crowded 24/7 days a week, including the weekends.

Unlucky for me, today was the weekend and it dawned on me how much I hated London rush hour. My destination that was across the road was Asterio's main headquarters in Mayfair. From a quick google search, the company was open five days a week, excluding Sundays (seems like he was considerate enough to give his employees a breather for a day), and had two other main headquarter branches in New York and Toronto.

My gaze lingers on the revolving door in which many men and woman are walking in and out from - some on the phone, others in a hustled rush but all dressed in form-fitting suits and fashionably appropriate.

With a breath of courage, I stalk my way inside and stand astounded at the rush in the building. It sounds like a wall street boardroom as people around me dart about. Damn, Asterio made his people work. In the distance, a few meters away, I notice an ombre sandstone with Asterio plastered underneath in the same font and march my way over there.

There is a man and a woman sitting at the reception, both typing away, dressed immaculately in suits. I gaze around the enormous lobby for a second as the woman catches my eyes and gives me a gentle smile. "Name please?" she asks. Shit, now what?

The woman is well-groomed, brunette and doesn't look older than twenty-four. She gives a pleasant smile when I don't reply, "Uh– I'm Isabella Romero but I'm afraid I don't have a meeting with Asterio - Mr Asterio," I correct. I can feel my heart pulsating out of my skin and I feel heated.

Quite frankly, I believe that Asterio has only hired her for common aesthetics for his business.

The woman arches her eyebrow, cranes her neck to her employee next to her and frowns. I can read her expression immediately. She thinks I'm crazy, that I'm a fool.

She smiles again, returning her attention back to me, "I'm sorry Miss. No appointment, no seeing Mr Asterio." God sake, I am a fool for turning up here with no game plan.

"You don't seem to understand. It is crucial for me to meet with Mr Asterio. It's personal and a matter of high urgency." I protest my case again but the woman doesn't seem convinced.

She pursues her lips, staring sharply at me. I've never felt this self-conscious about myself even though I'm wearing my finest clothes and my make-up is practically immaculate to make me Instagram famous.

She repeats again firmly this time, "No appointment. No seeing Mr Asterio."

With a dejected sigh, I tell her I'll get an appointment. She nods, turning her attention back to the iMac and enters in a few keys with a few clicks from her mouse. "Ten months from now? On the 22nd of January? Does that work for your schedule?"

"Ten Months?" My mouth drops open and I look at her as if she's the crazy one. Ten months from now? That's practically the New Year! I couldn't wait that long to see him. I only wanted to return his car key and tell him fuck off. "You don't seem to understand. It is very important that I meet with him today and right now." I stress, chewing my bottom lip. I feel stressed and I can feel the temperature rise, making me sweat.

Then again what the hell did I expect? The man has a whole empire to run and wouldn't waste a second of his precious time on me. Fuck sake, it took the BBC practically years to get him to do an hours interview.

"We only have an appointment available for ten months from now, on the 22nd of January. At 2 pm." The woman, who's starting to get on my nerves, repeats again, almost robotically. "Otherwise I'm afraid security will have to remove you off the premise, Ma'am. You are starting to create a scene."

I feel as if I've been slapped across the face. I'm creating a scene? No, but if she really wants to see me create a scene, I will. I bite the inside of my cheek as both the two employees gaze at me unhinged, waiting for my reply. I couldn't blame them – they were merely carrying out their duties to the job.

I open my mouth to protest my case and desperate one last time but I'm cut off by someone's sharp order. "Katherine!" The voice booms. Katherine instantly abandons everything she's doing, panic darting over her eyes and she stands.

"Yes Mr Armani?" she breathes, stroking her arm in a nervous gesture.

I crane my neck to see a man crowding my space, his hands are placed on the marble and he seems stressed out. He's taller than me, dressed sharply in a charcoal suit and is fairly handsome with the tousles of his black hair. He has a tan-olive complexion, a well-groomed beard, and his whole demeanour screams authority and influence.

"I need you to get down to Brompton Road in Knightsbridge. Get in Harrods pronto and speak to the manager." He chirps sharply, making Katherine scramble. "Oh while your there grab him a coffee. Tell them it's for Dimitri Asterio, they have a tab." Katherine nods, leaving her desk immediately and scrambling behind her to grab her things. I'm left shocked and simultaneously impressed how this man can literally lift an eyebrow and all his employees would scramble at the command.

He snaps his head towards me after noting I've been standing next to him and staring the whole time. "Who's this?" he snaps to Katherine.

"No one important Mr Armani," Katherine remarks, shrugging on her coat. Excuse me bitch? No, no Bella. Keep it classy. "She was just leaving the premises. Mrs Avellino has not arrived yet."

I send her a sharp glare, narrowing my eyes at her. "Sir, I know I don't have an appointment with Mr Asterio but it is absolutely crucial that I meet with him today," I stress each syllable and letter trying to convey the urgency of the matter.

He just blankly stares at me, then his eyebrow furrow together silently asking me if I'm 'being fucking serious.' God, this was so unprofessional of me.

His eyes wash over me, studying my face and my clothes. Thank Christ, I choose something appropriate to wear. "You don't look like the type," he mutters under his breath, taking a good look at me again. I frown at his remark, beaten.

The type for what?

"What did you say your name was again?" he inquires, his face thinking about something.

"Isabella Romero."

At the mention of my name, something – a feeling I can't discover passes over his face. He raises an eyebrow, slightly surprised.

"Come with me." He commands instantly. Sending a disapproving eyebrow at Katherine who is flushed red. I'm surprised that he's listened to my desperate plea and without another word, I follow him as he summons the lift down.

————

Here we go... buckle tight!

— 𝓐.