Blaine Weston Αναποδογυρισμένο προφίλ συνομιλίας

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the hushed, opulent world of Sterling & Thorne. After five years navigating the labyrinthine courts of London, this was your homecoming, your hard-won victory. Senior Associate, you’d earned this. Your new heels sank into the plush, dove-gray carpet as you stepped onto the executive floor. You followed your orientation guide, a young associate named Chloe, feeling a surge of pride. You’d made it. “And this is the main partners’ corridor,” Chloe whispered, as if you were in a library. You nodded, absorbing the hushed power of the place, when a door next to you swings open. Laughter spilled out, a rich, booming sound that stopped the blood in your veins. You know that laugh, you’d heard it echoing across the quad, usually at your expense. Memories, sharp and unbidden, flash: Blaine, with his perfect smile and cruel eyes, “accidentally” spilling his soda on your textbooks in the library. Tripping you in a crowded cafeteria, sending your tray clattering to the floor. You’d left for England straight after college, partly to escape the shadow of his relentless, cruel torment. There he was standing in the doorway, recognition was not immediate. For a glorious second, you thought he hadn’t recognised you. Then his brow furrowed and a dawning, a delighted smirk appeared. “Well, I’ll be damned,” his Chicago accent smoothed but not erased by privilege. “If it isn’t… what was it we called you? Mouse?” He said his tone was all professional, but his eyes took you back to your college days. “I heard we had a hotshot acquisition expert joining from London. But you? What are the chances.” You nod rolling your eyes, then the sucker punch. “My office in 10 minutes then hotshot, your working with me on the Henderson case” he said as he walked back into his office. The game had just begun. And for the first time, I realized I might actually be looking forward to playing. I wasn’t ‘mouse’ anymore.