Elena Marquez stood in her Brooklyn apartment as the morning light glared through the window. She smoothed a thrift-store blazer over her slender frame as her hazel eyes wavered with nerves with her curly brown hair pinned tight. At 28, she was a graphic designer clawing her way up and today's pitch at Cross Enterprises was more than a job; it was a promise kept to her brother, Mateo.
" You are not a fraud, and you are ready," she muttered, although her reflection was not convinced. She grabbed her portfolio— a lifeline of sketches and dreams bound in leather, her ticket to the tech giant's rebranding project and rushed out. Mateo had dreamed of working for Cross Enterprises, his eyes sparkling as he raved about their cutting-edge tech. After his death, two years ago, Elena vowed to carry his dream forward, pitching to the company he'd idolized. This was her shot to honor him, to prove she belonged in his world. Doubt was a luxury she could not afford.
Brooklyn buzzed as the cars honked, kids darted, even vendors shouted. Elena's phone buzzed.
Carla's voice blasted. "Yo! You off to crush it?"
Elena dodged a biker, grinning. "If these heels do not trip me".
"You are going to own that room, Chica. What is the vibe? Are you nervous or hyped?" Carla asked.
"Both", Elena said, voice low. "What if i flop, Carla? It is not just a job, it is…everything".
"No flopping. You have come a long way to give up. Do not let any CEO spook you because they are all talk", Carla added in a convincing tone.
Elena's fist clenched. "Talk with money", she took a deep sigh. "Gotta go, the train is here".
"Slay, babe!" Carla hung up.
On the subway, Elena gripped her portfolio. Cross Enterprises was a giant, led by Julian Cross, a self-made billionaire. She had stalked his profile all through the night— sharp jaw, gray eyes and a smile that could charm or cut. His COO, Elias Navarro, was a smooth brain with an edge and his bio screamed cunning. She could not afford to trust either of them, no matter how smoothly they talked. Her jaw tightened as her fingers dug into the portfolio leather.
Manhattan hit hard, the skyscrapers loomed. Cross Enterprises gleamed with all glass, steel and power.
"For Mateo", Elena whispered. He had always been a fan of her art and always called it "magic". She has to do this for him.
The lobby was marble and light as her heels echoed with every step. A receptionist with a tight bun looked up.
"Name"
"Elena Marquez. I am here for the rebranding pitch."
The woman tapped her screen. "Tenth floor. Do not be late".
Elena nodded, stepping into the elevator as her reflection stared back, eyes wide. Get it together, she thought. You are not here to make friends. You are here to win.
The door opened to a sleek office, a man lounged against a desk, black hair tied back, brown eyes sharp yet warm. Elias Navarro blazer was tailored, but his open collar screamed confidence and not arrogance.
"Ms Marquez?" His voice was smooth, like he had practiced charm in the mirror. "I am Elias, the COO. And you are early, I like that".
Forcing a smile, she felt her pulse race. "Early is my thing, it keeps the nerves in check".
He chuckled, low and easy. "Nerves? You do not strike me as the type".
"Do not let the blazer fool you", she shot back, then bit her lower lip. Too bold? But Elias's grin widened as his gaze lingered a fraction too long. A trap, she thought, his warmth disarming when she needed to stay sharp.
"Fair. Let's get you set up. Julian's running late, but he will be here."
Her stomach flipped. Julian Cross, the man who would decide her fate. She followed Elias to a conference room, floor to ceiling windows framing the city. Her portfolio felt heavy, her shield against judgement.
"So," Elias said as he leaned back, "why Cross Enterprises? You could pitch anywhere".
His tone was casual, but his probing stare felt calculated, fishing for weaknesses. Elena straightened.
"Your brand is stale. It does scream money but not vision and I can help you fix that."
He raised a brow, amused. "Big talk. You think you can handle our world?"
"I have handled worse," she said, her voice steady but her heart screaming. Can I? She thought of Mateo.
Before Elias could reply, the door swung open. Julian Cross strode in all muscle and bespoke suit as his gray eyes locked onto Elena like a predator sizing up its prey. Her breath caught as he was sharper than his photos; chiseled jaw, stormy gaze with every inch radiating control. The air shifted, heavy with his presence.
"Elena Marquez", he said, voice low and clipped. "You are the one who thinks she can remake my empire?"
She met his gaze with defiance, sparking. "Not remake rather elevate, but that is if you are not scared of bold".
His lips twitched, not quite a smile, but his gaze lingered, tracing the curve of her jaw. A slow burn spread across her skin.
Dangerous, she thought, but damn if it did not stir something reckless in her. Men like him, charming and controlling, were trouble, yet her pulse betrayed her, racing with want. She cursed herself for it.
Elias cut in, lighter and broke the tension. "She has got fire, Julian. Give her a shot."
Julian's eyes flicked to Elias, a silent warning, then back to her like it had never left her. "Fire burns out fast. Let's see how long hers lasts".
Her jaw tightened. The jab stung, echoing past dismissals. She had overheard whispers in the elevator: Reed Innovations poaching talents, that guy never quits. A rival circling Julian's empire.
"I do not burn out," she said, her voice firm. "I always deliver".
Julian leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his cologne, cedar and spice, teasing her. "Then pitch. Now"
As she opened her portfolio, Elias's warm gaze steadied her, a contrast to Julian's intensity. One disarming, one devouring but both trouble, could she navigate their world without losing herself? Or worse, craving them both?
Her designs flashed on the screen; bold, vibrant and alive, weaving Cross Enterprises' tech dominance with a human touch. Elias nodded subtly, impressed, while Julian's unreadable gaze pinned on her. She was mid-sentence, confidence surging, when a television mounted on the wall flared to life, its volume cutting through her words. A news anchor's voice boomed: "Breaking: Cross Enterprises lab accident claims coder's life." The screen flashed a photo of Mateo.
Elena froze, her portfolio slipping. The dream she had chased for him… Cross Enterprises, was where he died?