Mira

I flash him a broad smile.

"Do you ever talk about anything besides work?"

"Why would I? Work is my life."

My boss studies me like a scientist peering through a microscope.

"That's sad, Elliot. Even for you."

"I don't see why."

"What do you like to do for fun?"

"Fun? People still do that?"

Was that... a joke? If it was, he needs to work on his delivery. I laugh anyway, if only to encourage him to joke more often.

"We need to find you a hobby that doesn't involve watching the stock market."

"You don't just 'watch the stock market.'"

"I can't believe you said that seriously," I say, rolling my eyes. "Keep this up and you'll have one foot in the grave before you get your first gray hair. You're addicted to work."

His dark look makes my false confidence waver.

"I didn't ask for your opinion."

"No. But it's not like you can fire me for making an observation."

"Not while you're my winning ticket, anyway."

Winning ticket? I don't think anyone has ever compared me to something so... special.

My shoulders relax at the thought. How pathetic! After Victor, I've set the bar so low that I'm obsessing over my boss's offhand compliments.

A boss who kissed you like no one ever has before... But he's still my boss.

"Did you come to my office for a particular reason?" I ask, schooling my expression.

"Is that what we're calling an open-plan workspace the size of my shower these days?"

I give him the finger beneath my desk.

"Hiding your hand defeats the purpose of the gesture."

Why does he talk as though he drank milk from a china cup from the day he was born? Stranger still, why do I like it?

"My father taught me that if I have nothing nice to say, I shouldn't say anything at all."

"Shouldn't that rule also apply to offensive gestures?"

"Are you the type to get offended now?" I reply skeptically.

He grimaces, but I catch a spark in his eyes.

"Your file didn't mention your unfortunate habit of talking back to your superiors."

"You read my file?"

"Yes. I tend to research my investments."

I know he didn't mean for the remark to affect me, but my heart leaps in my chest anyway.

I'm more than an investment, the feminist in me protests.

But this tall, grumpy man spends his time researching me, the hopeless romantic counters.

I smile to myself. When I look up, I find Elliot staring at me with a pinched expression.

"What?"

"Nothing," he replies, shaking his head.

With that, he leaves my shower-sized office, abandoning me to a strange feeling that lasts the rest of the day.

I add the drawing Elliot dropped off yesterday to the final slide of my presentation. Grant managed to capture everything I dreamed of showing in his illustration.

Today, I feel much more nervous about speaking in front of all my coworkers. Despite Grant's gorgeous illustration of the mandap, I'm still unsure of myself: this will be the first time I've proposed a concept that didn't have Owen Vale's approval. I could have chosen one of the ideas Owen and I developed together, but I wanted to push my limits.

Now I'm not sure I made the right choice. What if my coworkers hate my contribution?

No, Elliot thought the idea was excellent.

I roll my shoulders back, trying to relax. If Elliot sees me as an investment, he must have a good reason. Maybe it's time I started acting as if I believe it, too. The worst that can happen is Tessa says no, or my boss decides the idea isn't so good after all.

I enter the conference room with my head held high. The director's chair remains empty as the room fills with designers. I take the same seat as last time, at the back of the table, where I can take notes away from prying eyes.

Despite Elliot's absence, Tessa begins the meeting. I keep checking the time on my phone as my coworkers take turns discussing their ideas for the week. When Tessa calls my name, I walk to the front and bring up my PowerPoint.

I try not to dwell on the odd feeling that comes over me when my eyes land on Elliot's empty chair. Why isn't he here? He didn't mention anything when he stopped by earlier...

I push him from my mind and focus on my presentation. The enthusiastic energy in the room eases some of my nerves, and my confidence grows as I explain. By the end, I'm exhausted, my cheeks are burning, and my heart's erratic rhythm still hasn't slowed.

One person's applause sets off the entire room, and then everyone smiles at me. They like my work.

I can't help grinning from ear to ear. If this is what believing in yourself feels like, I wish I'd had access to it earlier in life, before my ideas were stolen and my spirit was broken.

That experience is behind me now. From this point on, I refuse to let doubt stand in my way. I'm Mira 2.0, the version of me who no longer looks to the past when facing the future.

Even if Victor stole my first project, it's far from the last idea I'll ever have, and today's response tells me that the only person I need to prove my worth to is myself.

The moment I open the apartment door, Elise rushes at me.

"Mira!"

She wraps me in a hug and starts bouncing up and down.

"What is it?"

"I got a job!"

"Really? At the Royal Castle?"

Holy crap! I knew she was talented, but wow!

"Actually, no," she replies, scowling.

"Oh. I don't understand."

"Come on, I'll explain."

My friend leads me to the couch, where a bottle of cheap wine is already waiting for us.

"I completely blew my interview."

My smile disappears.

"Oh, no!"

"Everything that could go wrong did. I overcooked the chicken and undercooked the fish. Then my soufflé collapsed before I could even plate it, and to top it all off, I burned my hand on a skillet." She shows me her bandage, and I wince. "It was so embarrassing! The sous-chef threw me out in the middle of the interview after yelling at me for wasting her time. I felt like a complete failure."

"I'm so sorry, Elise. I feel responsible for pushing you into that interview when you weren't ready. I thought,"

"No, don't be sorry! Because of you, I managed to land an even better position!"

"What do you mean?"

She pours me a glass of wine.

"I ran into the chef outside afterward."

"How did you know who he was?"

"That's the funny part. I didn't know who he was then. He thought I was an injured animal when he heard me crying."

"No! Really?"

I clap a hand over my mouth to keep a laugh from escaping.

"Yes, really. I don't think he was prepared for the Pandora's box he opened when he asked if I was okay. It was like every emotion I'd been holding back exploded. He was incredible with me. He just stood there quietly while I told him how I'd blown the most important interview of my career."

"And?"

"He asked me a few questions, then told me to cook his favorite meal!"

My jaw drops.

"Stop!"

"It was like something out of a movie! So I made him the best grilled-cheese sandwich and tomato soup he'd ever tasted! His words, not mine."

"His favorite meal is a sandwich? Isn't that a little... basic?"

"There is nothing basic about me, girl."

Elise takes my hand and pulls me into the kitchen. Even though our kitchen is far from professional-grade, she makes it work by arranging the tiny space her way. She gathers utensils and ingredients, then starts preparing the food on the narrow counter.

Right on cue, my stomach growls. Today's lunch was barely enough. Besides, I worked later than usual: I was on a roll and didn't want to stop.

My friend points at a stool, and I sit beside her.

"What happened next?"

I pull the vintage headband from my hair and massage my temples.

"He offered me a second interview after practically having an orgasm over my masterpiece!"

"Seriously?" I say with a giggle.

"Okay, fine, I'm exaggerating. But he looked like he'd reached nirvana," she adds with a broad smile.

"So what's your new job?"

"Mr. Vale put him in charge of a new restaurant project. He'll be leaving the Royal Castle soon. And I'm going to be part of his team! The restaurant doesn't have a name or anything yet, but I have a guaranteed spot in the kitchen!"

"Elise! That's huge!"

Her entire face lights up with her smile.

"I know!"

"We need wine!"

After I retrieve our still-full glasses from the living room, we toast.

"Without you pushing me to try, I never would have bombed that interview. And if I hadn't burst into tears by the dumpsters, I never would have gotten this incredible opportunity! So there you have it: I believe in fate now. You were right all these years."

Elise turns her attention back to the skillet on the stove.

"So meeting me hadn't already convinced you that fate exists?"

My friend rolls her eyes.

"No. I thought you were just some annoying girl who crashed into me because she was trying to steal my parking space."

"One person's accident is another person's destiny..."

"Tell that to my insurance company."

We laugh until we cry before calling my parents to tell them the good news.

Then Elise serves me the most wonderful grilled-cheese sandwich. Wonderful because of everything it represents, on top of being unbelievably delicious.