1st Day

The car stopped. I let out a breath. Time to rock and roll.

My eyes widened the moment I saw the megastructure in front of me. It was 50 floor building covered top to bottom with trillions of tiny glass shards that reflected sunlight and transformed the entire space into a luminescent being. The effect was dazzling. But more dazzling than that was the bold AL symbol on top. Everybody in Los Angeles knew this building.

The House of Aslan-Lemaire

One of the oldest and most respected fashion houses in the world formed by the conjoining of Bilal Aslan and Jean Lemaire established in 1830, which was roughly 7 years before Hermes had even taken off. After the French invasion of Algeria,two unlikely people, one Turk and one French had bonded over an unlikely passion- cotoure. The bonds of friendship had long surpassed enmity. As the French colonized Morocco and the rest of the surrounding regions, the two friends moved to France where they set up the legendary house of Aslan and Lemaire in Paris. They made clothing for royalty. As generations passed, they started more vigorous experimentation with drapes and cloth. Aslan-Lemaire was famous for its blending of French and Turkish-Moroccan styles of clothing. Very few fashion houses had survived this long and this house was the pinnacle of creativity, history and change.

Only someone living under a rock did not know about them. They set the trends, they ruled the markets. Their designers were world famous for popularising unisex clothing. They were inclusive yet at the same time, the upholders of tradition and history.

And Jamal had sent me to work here.

I smiled dryly. This company had a bigger legacy than mine. I would have loved working here.

I walked into the building. The guards at the entrance must have done a double take at my outfit but were too polite and well trained to say a word.

They checked my ID and ushered me inside. What hit me in the face along with a gust of cold air from the ACs was a sweet floral fragrance. Lilies. Everywhere around the lobby, there were flower arrangements kept and all of them had lilies. Beautiful and hardy lilies that could survive the worst weather conditions. It gave the space a royal feel. Stepping into the lobby was like stepping into another era. Antique furniture was blended gracefully with warm inviting blues and yellows. The entire room smelled like an orchard in the summer.

It was beautiful and eccentric. Exactly as I liked it. The glass windows held mannequins in several sitting and standing poses showing off pieces from the latest Autumn-Winter collection in an array of jewelled tones. Eclectically dressed people sashayed in and out of the building.

I even saw an eighteenth century Marie-Antoinette gown on an editor here. My definition of Disneyland.

I reached the reception desk where a very pretty blond was handling a complex system of phones that kept ringing after one another. She mouthed an apology to me as she pointed at the phones.

"Take your time. ", I gestured with a shake of hand.

When she finally got off, the first thing she asked me was,

"Are you a lesbian?"

"Straight.", I said with a straight face. " At least I was last time I checked. I checked very thoroughly"

"Damn.", pretty, blond, girl muttered. "You look exactly like my future wife."

I smiled.

"Too bad. I am not into girls. Who am I kidding? I will be into girls if you are offering."

"I am.", she said with swoon worthy eyes. She was definitely my type. She wore a fabulous white flapper style dress, her long blind hair coiffed perfectly with a ribbon and light lipstick. Working at a fashion house definitely had its advantages. One could come to work in a kimono and nobody would bat an eyelash.

"Unfortunately, I don't have time to dilly-dally today. I have a meeting with your boss in about twenty minutes.", I informed her after checking my watch.

"What did you say your name was again?", she asked and looked over the appointments.

"Sana. Sana Bianchi."

Her eyes widened.

"The Sana Bianchi? The Boss Lady?", she asked, awe coating her tone.

"The very same.", I replied grinning.

"Can I take you out tonight?", she asked. " I really, really wanna show you off on my arm. Also I really want a billionaire girlfriend."

"Only if I am buying the drinks.", I said winking.

"Please follow me upstairs. It seems the boss wants to see you.", she said.

"After you, Miss?"

"Lola. Lola Mendoza.", she replied.

"Tu eres española?", I asked.

"Si. De Guadalajara.", she replied in fluent Spanish.

This time my smile was huge.

"Speak Spanish to me whenever we meet. God! It feels good to be near a native speaker. English is a rotten language. Absolutamente podrida."

I shook my head in mock disgust.

She summoned the elevator and we stepped in.

"So, what can you tell your future wife about your boss?", I asked hoping to sound bored rather than curious.

She gave me a faint smile.

"I suppose you will find out soon enough."

Damn! She wasn't talking so easily.

"So you want me to go in completely blind.", I countered.

"I want you to make your own judgements.", she said cryptically.

"Oh, by the way what's with all the lilies in the building?"

"Orders from the boss. If you are surprised by this, then wait till you see the 50th floor. It's like a god damned nursery in there.", she grumbled.

Hmmmm..... The mystery of my new boss kept getting more interesting by the second.

The elevator dinged at the 50th floor. It was empty. There was literally no one in here except for one huge single cubicle. I got a chill from the frigid air. There was an Arctic chill on the floor.

It felt like a cryogenic chamber from the zombie movies.

My dress was not not meant for this temperature.

And everywhere around me were bouquets of white roses with a soft pink hue. They were so beautiful, they took my breath away. There was something about white roses, about their sublime beauty, so transient yet their memory remained eternal.

"Dios mío....", I whispered in awe.

"Told you so....", Lola said wryly.

"How do you preserve such beauty?", I asked curiously fingering a soft white petal.

"We have the best florists and landscape artists here.", she said.

I gazed and gazed, my eyes drinking in my surroundings.

"It's time.", she said gesturing me towards the door.

"I really don't want to go inside and find Dracula in his crypt."

Lola's tinkering laugh echoed through the space.

"You won't find Dracula inside. Dracula is hideous. I can assure you Emir Aslan is nowhere near hideous. But he has claws and teeth. ", she said giggling like a teenager.

"This is not helping matters.", I said now nervous.

"Off you go, Tita Von Teese. He will be Dracula if you're late.", she said shoo-ing me away like a stray dog.

So much for respect.

"Will you at least kiss me good luck?", I teased.

"Not until the wedding night.", she teased back.

I sighed. So much for kisses.

Then, I opened the door and enter the Dracula's lair.

___________

"You're late.", said a deceptively soft voice from behind the chair. Scare tactics. So typical.

"Pardon me. I am not late, your clock is early. I am exactly on time according to my watch.", I said bluffing through my teeth. If Emir Aslan forgot who he was talking to, I would be happy to remind him.

The chair turned abruptly. I would have stumbled had I not been holding on to the back of the chair. Emir Aslan was all chiselled cruelty. There wasn't a ting soft about him. His Turkish heritage shone through his almond eyes, and sculpted jawline with a day-old stubble. His black, raven hair was swept back with gel and his gunmetal grey eyes revealed nothing. The navy-blue three piece suit he wore, gave him a dangerous edge. He was distant. He was frigid and the way he sat seemed as if the chair were his throne. So, this was Vlad the Impaler, Mr. Dracula.

He looked like a well-dressed mafia thug, with his broad build and rough features.

"The next time you are late, you can stay back home permanently.", he said.

I said nothing. Simply assessed him.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Aslan.", I said breaking my silence finally.

He gestured me to take a seat.

I did and crossed my legs relaxing.

This was familiar territory. It was a lion's den.

"The disgraced Boss Lady finally makes an entrance. I must say I am not impressed.", he said calmly toying with the paperweight.

"It was a mutual decision to end my tenure as CEO", I said noncommittally.

His gaze sharpened. He wasn't buying my bullshit.

"Let's cut the intimidation tactics here.", I declared annoyed. "Your company is drowning in a war between you and Clementine Lemaire. It's no longer a partnership. If this season, you don't produce something fabulous at the Fashion Week, you will out of the game."

The vein in his temple twitched.

"Yeah! I might have taken a break but that doesn't mean, I don't have my ear to the ground."

He said nothing.

"Jamal sent me here to help. I will help. Give me a job. Don't try 'I am the boss' speech with me. I am not good at following orders but I am ready to offer an olive branch.", I said getting to the point.

No CEO, no matter how big he was, could make me afraid. I had already been there.

He handed me a file.

"There are a 150 designs in the file. I want the individual colour coded fabrics, decorations and materials delivered to the atelier by tomorrow morning. Get me a modelling agency on the line with a number on the check. I want every dress accounted for. Oh, and a budget estimate too.", he said scanning through the five files.

"You are giving me to do the job of at least 20 people."

"Do you propose to give up?", he asked.

I smiled and took the files.

"It will be done. I adore it when people underestimate me. It's so fun to spoil their fun.", I assured him casually.

"If it isn't, then you are not fit for this job.", he said bluntly.

" I better get started then."

He looked back into his files.

"Oh, and Miss Bianchi, don't wear that dress to work. It's unprofessional."

I tried. I really tried to stop the anger coursing through me.

"You will have my resignation letter on your desk before I follow a dress code.", I asserted calmly.

"You don't follow orders we'll, do you?", he asked.

"I don't engage with bullies and I don't tolerate bosses who try to scare employees into obedience. Have a good day, Mr. Aslan.", I said, my tone as chilly as the temperature.

Dios mío! What a man!

Absolute asshole.

Well, as much as I wanted to trow my heel at his face, I had work to do.

And I knew the person who could help.