The towering glass facade of Hastings Industries loomed over Charlotte as she stepped out of the car. She adjusted her blazer, taking a deep breath. This was just another meeting. Another negotiation. No big deal.
Beside her, Olivia Sinclair strode forward with confidence, sunglasses perched on her nose like she owned the place. "You ready?"
Charlotte exhaled. "As ready as I'll ever be."
She wasn't sure what to expect—well, actually, she was. She was bracing for the inevitable: walking into a room and coming face-to-face with Alexander Hastings.
And yet—
The meeting room was filled with corporate executives, none of whom had Alexander's familiar sharp blue gaze.
He wasn't here.
Charlotte felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over her.
She straightened her shoulders. Without him in the room, she was untouchable.
---
### The Deal: A Golden Cage
The meeting started smoothly, with Hastings Industries presenting their proposal.
A senior executive, Lauren Patel, clicked through slides on a massive screen. "We see great synergy between Hastings Industries' upcoming health-conscious product line and your brand, 'A Foodie's Journey to Fitness.' Given your rising influence, we'd like to integrate you into our promotional strategy."
Charlotte nodded along—until the details started rolling in.
Lauren continued, "As part of this partnership, you would exclusively feature our products in all your content. We will provide pre-approved meal plans, recipes, and scripts to align with our brand's nutritional vision."
Charlotte's stomach dropped.
She leaned forward. "Scripts?"
Lauren smiled. "Yes. Our marketing team will provide structured content to ensure messaging consistency."
Charlotte's fingers tightened around her pen. "So… you're saying I wouldn't have creative control?"
A different executive, Mark Whitmore, jumped in. "You'd have influence within the parameters we set. We believe your audience will appreciate the quality of our scientifically developed meal plans."
Charlotte resisted the urge to scoff. She had spent years studying food, testing recipes, and building trust with her audience. The reason people followed her was because she was real—because she didn't push fad diets or scripted nonsense.
She had worked too hard to let a corporation turn her into a puppet.
She glanced at Olivia, who gave her a subtle look that screamed, Play it smart.
Charlotte took a slow breath, then flipped the script.
"I understand your concern for brand alignment," she said smoothly. "But my audience isn't just looking for 'scientifically developed meal plans.' They want something real. Something sustainable."
Mark gave her a tight smile. "And Hastings Industries provides that."
Charlotte raised a brow. "Then why do you need me?"
Silence.
Lauren recovered first. "Because your authenticity resonates with people."
Charlotte clasped her hands together. "Exactly. And that's why my audience trusts me. If I start reading from a script, they'll know. They'll feel it."
She leaned in slightly. "If we want this to work, I need some creative freedom. I can incorporate your products into my content, but I need to do it in a way that feels genuine. Otherwise, you'll lose the very thing that makes me valuable."
Lauren frowned, exchanging a look with Mark.
Charlotte held her breath. Had she swayed them?
And then—
A low chuckle cut through the room.
A sound she knew too well.
---
### The Unseen Observer
Charlotte's spine stiffened.
Slowly, she turned toward the voice.
Alexander Hastings sat at the far end of the table, one arm draped casually over the chair, amusement dancing in his piercing blue eyes.
How long had he been there?
Her pulse stuttered. For a moment—just a flicker of a moment—she felt exposed.
But Olivia, ever the guardian angel, squeezed her hand under the table. A silent reminder: You got this.
Charlotte swallowed hard, then lifted her chin.
She met Alexander's gaze, steady and unflinching.
If he thought his presence would shake her, he was wrong.
---
### The Clash
The room fell into a tense silence as Alexander Hastings leaned back in his chair, his long fingers tapping rhythmically against the sleek mahogany table. Tap. Tap. Tap. A slow, deliberate sound—almost lazy, but Charlotte wasn't fooled.
He was playing with her. Testing her.
His piercing blue eyes locked onto hers with that same maddening intensity he always had when he was about to say something infuriating.
"Let me get this straight," he said at last, his voice calm, measured—too measured. "You want to use our platform—our resources, our brand recognition—" he gestured vaguely with one hand, "—but you refuse to follow our guidelines?"
Charlotte's pulse ticked up a notch.
He made it sound like she was ungrateful. Like she was some reckless amateur who didn't understand how the world worked.
Her fingers curled into her lap. Here we go again.
She knew this tone. She knew this look.
Alexander the Untouchable. The man who always believed he was the smartest person in the room.
She lifted her chin, forcing her voice to stay steady, firm. "I want a partnership, not a leash."
His mouth twitched—just slightly, like she'd said something amusing.
It made her want to throw something at him.
But instead, she gritted her teeth and continued. "Your proposal strips me of creative freedom. If I follow a script that's obviously not mine, my audience will see right through it. They'll stop trusting me. And if they stop trusting me, your brand loses credibility too."
Alexander cocked his head. "So, what? You want to do whatever you want and expect us to foot the bill?"
Her frustration bubbled up fast and hot.
"This isn't about getting something for free, Alexander. It's about creating something that actually works."
She saw it then—the flicker of a smirk.
Oh, he was enjoying this.
That familiar prickling heat crept up her spine.
How many times had they fought like this before?
How many times had she stood in front of him, red-faced and furious, while he remained cool, untouchable, unreadable?
She flashed back to years ago—standing in his family's grand dining room, arguing over the worst rejection of her life.
_"You're being childish, Charlotte."_
_"No, you're being an arrogant jerk!"_
_"Because I don't want to date you? You think throwing a tantrum will change my mind?"_
_"I don't want to change your mind! I just—"_
She had never finished that sentence. She had stormed out instead.
And now, years later, here they were again.
The topic was different, but the feeling was the same—like she was slamming herself against a brick wall while he stood there, smug and immovable.
She inhaled sharply, forcing herself back to the present.
She was not that girl anymore.
She would not let him drag her back into emotions she had long buried.
Charlotte squared her shoulders. "You think I don't know how business works, but I do. And I know this: if you force influencers into rigid molds, they lose authenticity. And when they lose authenticity, they lose value. Do you really want to risk that?"
For a moment—just a brief moment—she saw something shift in his expression.
Something like… consideration.
And then, his smirk disappeared.
He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his voice dropping to something lower, something almost… personal.
"You've changed."
Her breath caught.
It wasn't a compliment. It wasn't an insult.
It was just a fact.
And somehow, that made it worse.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. "People grow up, Alexander." Her lips quirked upward—sharp, defiant. "Even you, apparently."
Something flickered across his face.
And then, to her shock—
He nodded.
"Alright," he said, leaning back again. "We'll revise the contract. You get a say in content creation."
Charlotte blinked. Did she just… win?
Mark, one of the executives, looked utterly stunned. "Sir—"
"That's my final decision," Alexander said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Charlotte exhaled slowly, letting the victory sink in.
But even as the conversation moved forward, she couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over.
Not really.
Because when she glanced at Alexander one last time, he was already watching her—
And this time, it wasn't amusement in his eyes.
It was something else entirely.
"You've learned to fight smarter," he murmured.
Her breath hitched.
This was different.
Before, he had always seen her as a girl with big emotions and reckless dreams. Someone easy to dismiss.
But now—
Now he was listening.
And for the first time in years, Charlotte felt seen.
She wasn't sure if she liked it.