"I'm sorry, Sir," Krystal starts. "You are not allowed in this part of the establishment if you don't have any appointment. And you have to make a schedule first before you demand for my service. I can sue you for ignoring my office's security staff."
The man scowls at him. "Yeah, I want to see you try. Don't you know me?"
Ah, Krystal thinks in mild annoyance and grimace. She hates dealing with privileged people demanding everyone's favor and service just because they are 'on priority list'even if they are not.
Krystal crosses her arms in front of her torso. "Am I supposed to? Know you, I mean?"
The man's brows furrow. "No. But I want you for this job. Or this wedding. Make suit and my fiancé's wedding dress. Whatever she wants or something."
In nearby, Krystal can hear the receptionist chokes and gasps at the supposedly romantic declaration of this man for his soon to be wife. Of course, hopelessly romantic people like her would think it's sweet that a man –a person, really– would do anything just to please their partners when it's just the bare minimum, the basic human decency.
"You don't even have an appointment with me. And how do I know you're not just any delinquent trying to distract us and then pull out a gun?"
The man practically growls at this point. "Why do I need to rob a fashion brand headquarter?! I'm a business man, I make more money than all of you combined!"
The designer sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Even so. I don't have to believe you or not, the deal here is you stepped inside my headquarter even the refusal of my security staff. And you don't have any appointment with me. Yet you forced yourself to trespass in my headquarter and make a ruckus by demanding something to me. Something that could have been easily discussed if you just have made an appointment. You're all to blame here, and I can sue you if I so please."
The man is not one bit affected by the warning. Instead, he has the gall to look around the office, to check the hallway he just stormed from, the intersection hallways left and right where they are standing now, and even the ceiling.
Even without a word, Krystal is mildly affected by the man's scrutinizing stares. Finally, the man turns to her and shrugs.
"Okay. Then give me an appointment. I'll be free tomorrow and if you are too, let's talk. I'll bring my fiancé with me."
Krystal checks the man. And finds herself disappointed that the man is actually looking like a model. He's the model type, not the one that would grace a cat walk, but his face is attractive enough to be an ambassador to luxury brands and he can pass to be photoshoot model. He has natural tanned skin, and no doubt his skin is soft despite the visible goosebumps in their wake. He has a bit of cleft chin, and his nose is roundish, not the pointy high bridge she usually sees on male models. She kinda reminds him of a leopard. A cheetah. And it's not really a good idea to check out a man for possibly chance of recruiting when her disappointment is not without a base.
There's a reason why Krystal is disappointed upon seeing the visual type of the man, and it's because this man is not in the fashion world. Because if he is, Krystal would've find out. There's no way a man with this look wouldn't be popular, even if he doesn't pass the catwalk model standard. He can be a photoshoot model, though. Promotional type. But no, because she should have known him by now.
Her conclusion got confirmed when the man shoves a hand gracefully in his breast pocket –and oh, would you look at that blazer, it's definitely Thommy Pords, which means this guy must be really loaded base on his clothes and how he confidently ask everyone if they don't know him at all as if he expected the world to know him– and pulls out a calling card to hand him. When Krystal only stares at the calling card, and only because she's a bit taken aback by the forceful way the man has entered the headquarter, the man probably took her stalling as refusal.
It's clear the man doesn't know how to say no, for he rolls his eyes and turns to the receptionist. The receptionist is flustered by the sudden attention to her, but takes the calling card nonetheless.
"Make me an appointment with her, will you? Tomorrow is desirable, but anything within this week is fine. I'll probably be busy by next week, so I hope you can work out a free time that matches with me."
Men, Krystal wants to shakes her head in indignation.
"And why would I adjust my schedule for you?" she asks, a bit snappish, and she sees how her employees turn to her in surprise. They know how chill she is about things, she's so understanding and considerate, after all. So hearing her getting pissed, it's probably a shock for her employees.
Not that the man will notice. He just give Krystal a deadpan look and says, "Because I'm a potential client? And I make demands because I'll pay?"
Krystal straightens her gait, vaguely remembering the man claiming to be a business man himself. And the calling card, despite haven't seen it yet, is one of the proof.
"Do you have any idea how this works? I'm a designer. You dont just pay for the expensive materials I'm going to use on that suit and dress you want to make me create."
"Of course?" the man says almost asking, and a bit unbelieving, as if he thinks it's ridiculous that Krystal asked that question. "I'm gonna pay for the suit and dress. And I'm also buying of service and time and brand, don't think I don't know how buying a service works."
Krystal checks the man out again. He's not smiling, he actually look a little pissed, but finding that he's harmless, Krystal lets herself sigh.
"Okay," she relents. "I'm not saying yes, I'll think about it. But I need a name. Tell me your name and you estimated budget for the suit and dress so I'll know with materials to use."
The man, snorts. Snorts. A very unattractive thing, but he makes it like scoffing and smirking, not annoying at all. He's graceful. He's probably really loaded if he has grace in everything he does.
"I don't do budgeting," he doesn't sound so condescending and proud, he's just stating facts. Krystal knows how to differentiate the sound of boasting to just stating fact. And this one's the latter. "My estimate is limitless. Do whatever the hag wants."
Krystal frowns. "The hag?"
The man rolls his eyes. "My fiancé."
Krystal wants to glare. "I need names."
"I'm Christian. Christian Giannini," the man –Christian– introduces himself. Krystal hears Sarah musing to herself, probably thinking if she knows Giannini or heard of it. Krystal is clueless. She's not familiar with him.
"Okay. And the fiancé?" she asks.
"Dolore. I'll bring her tomorrow."
Krystal, who is tired of all the stuff she's done today, doesn't really have any ounce of power to refuse the one sided decision. She's reached her limits even before entering her car leaving Daunt's studio. The bonding with her beloved couch is short-lived, and she hasn't recharged yet. She even doesn't know if she wants to take the job or not. Vaguely, she likes the idea of being told by what to do, what to create and having a limited time to create something. It's been so long that she's been in charge of everything she does.
She somehow likes the idea. But she also knows she's not rational enough to decide. She can decide tomorrow, and it's better option because the fiancé will be there. Meaning, she can reject them of she deem it a waste of her time.
She doesn't really care about the man's limitless budget, Krystal is doing fine on her own. If she finds herself liking the offer, she will gladly take it.
"Okay," she says with a heaved sigh. "Come by tomorrow before or after lunch. Please, inform my assistant your time of coming because I have demonstration tommorow by 2 in the afternoon." Krystal points her thumb towards Sarah. "Be nice to my assistant. I don't care if you're a mogul or not. And we're still not in professional arrangement, I can tell you off how much I want to."
The man –Christian– shrugs. "Clearly, you can. I'll be surprised if you won't. You're a designer, after all. Probably used to lead a bunch of people. But whatever. I need to go. My calling card's here," Christian points to the receptionist. And looks around for the security staffs still lingering. The man purses his lips and turns to Krystal. "No need to escort me off. I'll go by myself."
The man gives them a salute, and even pats the nearest security man's shoulder in his way. The three security staffs follow suit, not escorting but watching. The man can be a business mogul all he claims, but the fact that he just trespassed still stands.
Once out of sight, Krystal groans and pokes her index finger in the middle of her brows. A headache is starting to manifest in her head. It's not supposed to be a headache day for her today.
"I was asking for coffee, earlier," she says to no one.
"You did?" Sarah asks. Krystal just groans in answer. "I didn't know. I would have give you now."
Krystal wants to crawl under the ground from exhaustion. "I asked her–" she turns to where the receptionist is supposed to be standing, but sees no one. She's probably back to her place in the reception area.
Krystal's headache wants to have its own headache.
"Okay," she says, almost to herself. "Okay. I need that coffee now. Can you give me a grande one? And don't suggest vodka. I will definitely say yes which is a bad idea."
Sarah gives her a sympathetic smile. "I will. You should rest. Your couch's been waiting for you the whole day."
Krystal gives her ever so patient assistant a appreciative sound. One day, maybe after three months, she'll give her a raise. And she would have done it right now if she hasn't raised her wage few months ago.
Just like what Sarah suggests, Krystal goes to her office and slumps on her couch. This time, she feels tired tenfolds than her previous encounter with her couch not even an hour ago. The man's –Christian's– trespassing is just sinking in, and the exhaustion from the thought alone is giving Krystal things to overthink. Who is that man? Who does he thinks he is storming in on a place without appointment and schedule? Without a notice? And if he's saying is true, if he's a business man like a legitimate business man, then she surely knows how trespassing in a establishment is highly unappreciated. He's a businessman himself, he has an empire to take care of. How come he has the gall to do whatever he wants that he knows he won't appreciate if was done to him?
As the question grows, Krystal is getting pissed off as time goes by. It's so frustrating, now that she'd thought of it.
An idea enters Krystal's mind. And if she's going to work with this man, it's only appropriate to know who is Christian Giannini, right? And even if she won't take his deal and offer of commission, it's basic and normal to check up on her possible future client's background, right?
Pulling her laptop near her with much difficulty because she refuse to stand up because hey, she is allowed to be lazy sometimes, okay? And scrambles to open the laptop. She's almost lying on her couch, with her laptop on her stomach.
She immediately goes to internet site, and types the man's name.
Christian Giannini.
Not even a second passes and handful of the familiar man's photos load on her laptop screen. Multiple articles, and would you look at that.
The man has his own Wikipedia page. So he's a real deal, huh?
Krystal scrolls through the Wikipedia page. And finds out the man is in late 20s. 28, to be exact. His Wikipedia page is also devoid of potential lover, for he is single in his Wikipedia status. Which gives Krystal the idea that the man getting married is a confidential information.
Krystal can't help but think that the man's an idiot. How come he demands a service for his wedding without a non-disclosure agreement? Isn't she supposed to be a tactical businessman? How come a basic stuff with dealing such legal agreement is not the first thing he offer and just demand a suit and dress for his apparent wedding, a marriage that is not known to public? And Christian also needs to mind that he was inside a designer's headquarter.
Fashion may not be Hollywood, but rumors fly fast in this field. Like how models are seen and constantly put on pedestal, the fashion industry is almost similar to idea of idolization. And that means rumor is a frequent stuff in this industry.
Christian Giannini practically claimed loud and proud that he's getting married. And they're not alone in the office.
There was Sarah, who Krystal knows won't rattle a word. The receptionist and the security staffs, though. She's not sure. But it's on Christian if the word comes out. It's his idea to storm in Krystal's headquarter in the first place and outed himself.
As Krystal ventures more into Christian Giannini's search result page, she comes into some informations that she actually finds interesting.
Such as the man being in top 100 successful bachelor under 30. And that Christian Giannini is actually son of business mogul Christiano Giannini, a well known French architect and artist; and Sofia Giannini neé Suarez, a French-Spanish-Filipina who's a business and corporate agent with background of industrial engineering. Sofia is also a part of Spanish-Filipino politician clan.
Krystal really needs to background check this one, if possibility of politicians being involved. She's paranoid like that. And no one can really blame her for it, right? She's just being careful and she bets anyone would be, too.
Krystal also finds out that Christian Giannini is not a liar. He's really a businessman. And he's a CEO himself, and also acting as the head owner with 71% share holder of the company.
Christian Giannini owns Ground Zeta, the most successful and most exported mill in this generation. His company has worked with multiple luxury brands of cars, and even Desla, who has its own steel manufacturer, is competing with Ground Zeta's quality of steels and metals, all materials Ground Zeta can offer.
So he's really impressive, and no wonder he expects anyone in the 'luxury scene and field' to know him. Because he is really well known and he really has no limit with his money.
Very understandable. But still not enough reason to infiltrate a headquarter like he owns the world and everyone's lawns and backyards.
Krystal jolts out from her musing when a series of knocks resonates in her office. She looks up to find Sarah with her grande coffee.
And bless her, because Sarah also carries chiffon cake. And it's green. Which means it's macha flavored. Krystal could cry from appreciation.
"Thank you," Krystal almost cry. Sarah just giggles at her. "You're a savior."
"Well, after that unfortunate meeting with mister Christian and whatever his surname is, you deserve that, at least."
Krystal is really thankful for Sarah. She doesn't know what her life would be if she doesn't have Sarah as her personal assistant. She really has to raise her wage.
She then turns her attention to her laptop. Christian Giannini's profile image printed on a magazine with red background is in her laptop screen. He looks powerful, immaculate like this. Like he knows his business, very unlike of the man who demanded for her work earlier.
Krystal sighs. "Unfortunate, huh?"
She can't help but muses to herself, and agrees at the thought.
