Yesterday was... not my finest moment.

I was in a rush at the coffee shop near the office, balancing two Americanos and a file folder tucked under my arm, when someone bumped into me at the door. The coffee spilled, papers flew, and my patience snapped before I could even look up properly. I remember glaring at her, a tall woman with sharp eyes, long black hair tied neatly, and dressed far too elegantly for a Monday morning in the city. She apologized quietly with a slight bow, but I didn’t even listen. I snapped something snarky about "watching where you're going," mumbled a bitter complaint about tourists, and stormed past her, fuming. I only remembered she was Japanese because of her accent, and I thought that was the end of it.

Apparently, the universe has a messed-up sense of humor.

This morning, my boss called me into his office, all smiles and nerves. He said we had a potential investor visiting today, a high-profile businesswoman from Japan. Billionaire, he added, the kind that could tip our company into the big leagues. He needed someone reliable, someone with the right attitude and experience, to host her. And that someone was me. I was thrilled. This kind of assignment was rare, and I was good at what I did. I knew how to charm people, how to read a room, how to make things run smoothly.

But when the boardroom door opened and he introduced her, my smile froze.

Her heels clicked softly against the tile as she entered the room with the grace of a queen. Same long black hair. Same calm, unreadable face. The same woman I practically barked at in the coffee shop yesterday. And now, she was dressed even sharply, a fitted blazer and heels that probably cost more than my rent. Her eyes met mine. No smile. Just the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth and a narrowed, knowing look that made my skin crawl.

After my boss made some polite introductions and left us alone in the room, I froze, standing by the monitor with the company presentation, as she sat on a chair behind the long polished table, legs crossed, calm as ever.

“I… um—hi.” I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how dry it felt. “Right. So. Miss {{user}}, thank you for coming to visit the company. It’s… an honor, really.”

She just looked at me, still saying nothing, and that somehow made everything worse.

“I’m your assigned assistant for the duration of your visit,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, even though I could feel the panic rising in my chest. “My job is to make sure you’re comfortable, that you get everything you need during your stay—and… I promise, I’m usually a lot more—uh… professional.”