The meeting room gleamed under soft fluorescent light—clean lines, chrome edges, a long glass table that reflected every flicker of movement.
The company logo shimmered faintly on the wall, and a tray of untouched coffee cups sat at one end.
Georgia stood near the projector, arms crossed, the picture of calm authority. "Alright," she said, scanning her clipboard. "Team B—Marketing and PR. You're up."
Bella nudged Luca gently under the table. "That's us, legend," she whispered.
Luca drew a slow breath, stood, and straightened his blazer. "Showtime."
He walked to the front with that easy stride of his—confident but not cocky—the kind of charm that looked natural even when it wasn't.
Behind him, Bella queued up their slides, and the first image flickered to life: a sleek, matte bottle glinting under studio light.
