Three days later, Charles actually called me back. He'd also arranged a limousine to take me to KE's headquarters.
The headquarters wasn't just a single building. It was a massive campus that screamed luxury from the outside in.
I felt like an outsider walking in with my comfy sweater and jeans. Everybody there was either wearing tailored suits or quirky, fabulous outfits that looked pulled straight off some high-end runway.
"Your name, please," the receptionist said, eyeing me up and down with a judging look.
"Kaija Sepala. I'm here to see Charles Kosonen."
She shot me a skeptical look, before lowering her gaze again to the computer, typing something. A few seconds later, she suddenly shot up from her seat.
"Ms. Sepala." She bowed deeply. "I apologize for not recognizing you sooner. This way, please!"
I blinked at the sudden change in her tone, but I followed her to the elevator anyway. When we reached the top floor, she led me into a luxurious waiting room.
The room wasn't empty. Someone was already there. He sat at the long black leather couch, dressed in a white suit with some questionable cutouts along the sleeves.
I recognized him instantly. Stylish platinum-blond hair. Mesmerizing turquoise eyes. With his pale skin and those elegantly defined features, he looked like an angel sent to Earth by God himself.
Karl Hanski.
KE's ultimate moneymaker — and S Country's most beloved superstar. He was only 28, and yet very album he dropped made it to the top charts within a day. Every tour sold out, even at sky high prices.
I must admit, I'd been his fan once, back when he first debuted. I used to listen to his albums nonstop, when I was still in high school and he still did hip-hop.
Later on, he switched to pop, and his music just... lost me. Still, part of me still regarded him as one of the most talented artists of my time.
The receptionist bowed deeply toward him, her tone shaky. "Karl, I'm very sorry, but Mr. Kosonen is expecting a... special guest this morning. I'm afraid you'll have to wait another hour before seeing him."
"What nonsense are you talking about?" Karl shot back indifferently.
His voice was the deepest, raspiest timbre I've ever heard from a man — a total contrast to his baby face. It matched the singing voice I knew, though. That gritty quality was what made his music one of a kind to me.
The receptionist stammered, "Mr. Kosonen made it clear that... Ms. Sepala is to see him immediately when she arrives, I'm afraid."
His head tilted toward the receptionist. "Sepala who?" Then his turquoise eyes shifted past her and landed directly on me. "You?"
"Uh...yeah." I raised a hand awkwardly. "That'd be me. Hi."
His lips curled into a sneer. "Who are you?"
"I'm here for, uh... an interview," I said. And possibly for signing myself up for a slave contract with your boss.
"Name?"
"Kaija."
"You've slept with Charles?"
My brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"
"That old fox let you in before me," he said lightly, "What other reason could there be?"
"Look, I didn't sleep with anyone," I retorted. "I'm not an escort, mister."
"Of course, you're not. You dress a little too cheaply to be an escort."
Well, what can I say. At that point, the image of the great and talented Karl Hanski that I looked up to, whose songs drove me through endless late-night study sessions, completely shattered into pieces.
"It's quite refreshing to see that old fox had changed his taste these days, I must say," Karl went on. "How long did he last, though?"
I turned to the receptionist. "Sorry, but is there a different waiting room?" I asked with my brightest smile. "I don't enjoy breathing the same air as scums."
Karl's angelic face darkened at once. "What did you just say?" He leaned forward, glaring up at me, his tone dropping to a guttural growl. "Listen, cutie. You're not the first woman to come here begging for that old fox's attention. Don't think so highly of yourself."
"And you," I shot back coldly, "don't think you're such a superstar that I'd let you rub your dirty slanders in my face. You think you're so great yourself? Sorry, but your music is only good for putting me to sleep."
Karl shot up from the couch, storming toward me with a face that screamed, "I'm going to kill you right here, right now, with my bare hands".
I met his murderous glower head on. With that towering height, he did intimidate me a bit, but honestly his baby face wasn't helping him. It felt more like facing a toddler throwing a tantrum because his mommy didn't give him enough attention.
The receptionist quickly jumped in between us. "Please, please! There's another waiting room," she said, then turned to him. "Karl, please wait here." Then back to me again. "Ms. Sepala, please come with me!"
I gave him one last pitying look before following her out of the room. I wished I could see what kind of face he was making behind my back.
In the large conference room, Charles sat waiting at the head of a long table. He looked every bit the powerful executive he was, in his black suit and that usual icy expression, but he seemed more tense today.
Before I'd entered, a few guys in black suits had filed out. Maybe he'd just had some high-level board meeting.
"Kaija." He gestured me to come closer. "Make yourself comfortable."
I walked over and took the seat nearest to him. I didn't know whether I imagined it, or his expression seemed to ease a little once I sat down. That musky, leathery scent still clung onto him.
"What do you think of our facilities?" he asked, fingers laced together, studying me intently with those silvery eyes.
"Everything's top quality, Mr. Kosonen," I replied. "But I have to admit, I'm more interested in what you wanted to discuss with me."
His lips curved faintly. "I like that straightforwardness."
He pressed a button beneath the table. A few seconds later, a woman in her thirties entered.
Her umber hair was twisted neatly at the nape of her neck, her face even more severe than Charles's. She placed two thick stacks of papers onto the table, bowed deeply to him, and left the room just as quietly way as she'd come.
"That was my assistant, Camille," Charles said, pushing one document toward me. "Here's my adjusted offer, Kaija. I'll settle that S$200,000 for you upfront as a down payment, if you agree to sign with KE."
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer, Mr. Kosonen."
His face tightened.
"Here's my offer," I continued, "I'll sign with KE. But I want to pay off that debt myself."
A smile spread across his lips. "Then let's proceed that way," he said simply.
I gave him a smile back. "So, how do I start?"