1- I will love my new job

I have never really liked celebrating my birthdays, as my birthdays are a reminder that my grandmother Marie is no longer with me. However, I love celebrating the birthdays of my family and loved ones. On my father's 53rd birthday, the business man Collin Miller, owner of Acusica Records, one of the multimillion-dollar companies that represents artists worldwide, I had prepared something special for him. I would give him my application letter for the internship at the University.

I walk towards the elevator and press the penthouse floor, dressed in a green Louis Vuitton velvet dress that fits my hips perfectly. I am 21 years old, currently in my second year of studying Business Administration and Financial Leadership at Yale, and my father is very proud of me. One day, I will run his companies because I am his only daughter. I look at myself in the mirror, looking elegant and beautiful. The elevator door opens and I step out towards the birthday celebration. But what I never imagined was that daddy would be the one to surprise me during his birthday this night.

"Dad, this is a recommendation letter issued by the dean, saying that I am more than prepared to take on a leadership position," I say, exasperated, as he holds the letter and loosens his tie, hangs his coat on the hanger, and closes the office door.

"Anais, I am not going to argue about this with you. You are not ready."

"The professors at Yale think I am."

"One thing is theory, and another is the real world. Here, if you make a mistake, you can lose millions."

"I am the owner of the company, and I will not leave a new music sales department in the hands of an inexperienced person."

"I have spoken to my good friend Salvatorri, he arrived from Italy this week, and he is more than willing to take on the position as soon as possible," my father adds.

"I see that you have already made your decision," I say sharply, and leave his office, indignant.

"Sweetheart, don't get upset. Everything I do is for your own good, to protect you."

"Happy Birthday, Daddy," I say dryly.

At that moment, a group of executives and company partners approach my father and shake his hand. He stops to talk to them, pushing our conversation aside. Frustrated, I leave the hallway and take the elevator, going down to the gardens surrounding the building.

A waterfall carved in stones remains lit, and two rose bushes sprout from the center of the waterfall, giving the impression that water is flowing from the roses.

In the garden, I see a bald man observing the scenery, with another group of executives by his side. They seem younger, but still exude an air of grandeur and confidence when they speak, a confidence that only money can give. Then, he is not a young guy, He seems a mature man but still looks young, the man who is observing the scenery looks at me intensely, but not in the way every woman desires to be looked at or admired. He just sets his eyes on my face and barely glides his gaze over my entire body.

We then lock eyes for a moment. He engages in animated conversation with a group of people, and I completely forget about my father.

After taking a deep breath, I go back up to my father's birthday party, knowing that it's already shocking enough for him to be without my mother on his birthday. My parents are getting divorced and neither of them have been doing well with this situation, but the only one of the three of us who is enjoying and having orgasms, it is my dad.

As I return to the birthday party, I momentarily forget about the atmosphere. Everyone is dressed in elegant dresses and suits, and even though it's only just past 7 o'clock in the watch, most people are drinking champagne and alcohol. It's the birthday of the company's owner, my father, and everyone is celebrating in his name, not seeming to care about work.

I approach the snack table.

"Excuse me, does this have meat?" I ask one of the waiters positioned on the sides of the big table.

"No miss, you can try this delicious jam and cookies, or if you prefer, the vegetarian sushi."

"Wow, thank you very much," I say, taking a meatless snack.

As I enter the main hall, where a large piece of furniture decorates the room, I see a collection of Van Gogh's works surround the place in a very elegant and sophisticated ambiance. In addition, the music from the piano fills the air and enchants us. I then notice the bald man I had seen earlier, among the rose bushes, now playing the piano. His hands glide quickly over the musical notes, barely blinking as he reads the sheet music on the piano. His eyes are gentle and light, but his gaze remains fixed and determined, as if he could read sheet music, Mandarin or French effortlessly. I think people who play the piano are extremely intelligent, as it is one of the most difficult instruments to master from my perspective.

At that moment, the music is delicate and firm, like a lover's caress. I take a sip from the tray held by a waiter with champagne glasses. The waiter stops, and I smile and thank him as I take a glass between my fingers. At that moment, the pianist stops playing Claude Debussy's "Clair de Lune" and starts playing a piece that I don't recognize.

Everyone applauds the pianist.

"What song is he playing?" I ask to myself as I watch his hands slide across the piano.

I feel my diaphragm expand, and I breathe so easily, letting the music expand and envelop me. The songs seem to shine like emeralds. I intensely watch him play the piano and approach him. Unconsciously, as if enchanted by the music, everyone seems to be talking animatedly at my father's birthday party, but I don't see anyone as fascinated by the music as I am. I feel that everyone should sit down and listen to him plays, as if he were giving a free concert in my father's name, the billionaire magnate Collin Miller, with the concert of a breathtaking pianist celebrating his 53rd birthday.

The sunlight continues to illuminate, now with its last flashes before fading and giving way to the night. The first stars are already shining in the sky, my father's company is in one of the tallest buildings in the city, from these heights it feels like we can reach the stars when we're in his office. I walk confidently and sensually towards the pianist in my pink heels, both sure and cautious, like a cat in search of caresses. I am enchanted by the music.

"Hello," I say in a soft voice when he finally stops playing the song and people applaud politely for his performance. The pianist looks at me with great curiosity, and his eyes sparkle with surprise, at that moment my cheeks blush.

"I was wondering the name of the song you just played… it's a beautiful song," I finally add.

"Thank you very much," he says, smiling. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"The song is called Blue Time in Rome."

"Wow, what a beautiful name."

"Yes, There is a time in Rome called the blue time, and this music reminds me of that."

"Why?"

"Because if my music could have a color, it would be blue, blue, so intense and protective, like the blue of your eyes," he said to me.

"Oh thank you," I said, and I can feel my cheeks and skin burning as he looks at me.