2- The pianist, the hatefull CEO

I feel time stop passing while He is staring at me, and suddenly I can notice, He is pretty handsome, maybe he is 10 years old than me. He looks more mature than guys I used to date. He is definitely a gentleman; I can feel it in every one of his expresses.

"Blue?

Why blue?” I wonder

“In fact, it is actually called the blue time. All of Rome turns into beautiful blue sunset skies colors, it is wonderful. He said to me, 'I wish you could see it one day, with me.'

'Oh, I would love to see it,' I admit.

'But more than that beautiful view and landscape, I believe it is the color I can feel to describe the music, do you understand?'

'That's what I feel, maybe another pianist could express a totally different color,' music and feelings are so unique.

'C'est très unique,' he says to me.

'Do you speak French?' I wonder.

'Just a little bit.' He says, and his eyes pass from my eyes to my lips.

'I understand what you say,' I explain, feeling his intense eyes on me, and I can also feel my hands, holding my champagne coupe.

'Maybe my hands could feel a different color if I play the piano or if I touch a cat, than you could feel,' I say.

'Exactly.'"

"Is like musical synesthesia, you feel what you perceive, the essence within your music," I explain to him. His eyes have a special and beautiful brightness under the office lights that are turned on.

"I perceive it like electricity, like something connected to my soul and my ears."

"It's a perfect way to tune in with music."

"Should I assume that your favorite color is pink?" He wonders and smile in a sweet way.

"Because my purse is sweet pink, or my high heels are sweet pink? Or because I am blonde? Why could you possible think I like pink color?"

"Actually, I don't like to use stereotypes to define people. You can be blonde and your favorite color can be white or black. But I wonder because of your nails and your purse. When you came down to the living room this afternoon, you were carrying a pink purse."

"Yes, I remember," I said with a smile. "Yes, pink is my favorite color," I added, staring at my long pink nails. "I got a manicure yesterday. Thanks for noticing."

"It's easy for me to talk with you," I suddenly said.

"Don't you feel comfortable talking with strangers?" he wonders.

"By the way, my name is Ignacio. Nice to meet you."

"My name is Anais. A pleasure to meet you too. And I do enjoy meeting new people, but this particular party is a mess."

"Why?"

"My father is hiring some arrogant guy to be my boss instead of giving me the chance to take on a higher position in his company. In my college letter of recommendation, it says I would be suitable for the position."

"May I ask which position you would like?"

"International Marketing and Sales Management," I said. "I wanted to work here, just for a few months, while I do my internships at college."

"I see. It's an important position. It would be a great experience for you."

"I know. Thank you for saying that," I said.

"But he doesn't trust you enough to give it to you," he adds.

"Exactly." And suddenly I feel I am really sad about it. But it feels nice to talk with someone about it.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," says Ignacio, and I can see kindness and understanding in his eyes.

"It's okay," I say, and take a slight pause as I take a deep breath.

"Would you like some snacks?" he asks, as another waitress walks by with some snacks.

At that moment, a slim blonde woman in a tight red dress approaches us and grabs a snack. She warmly smiles at us, and I am captivated by her magnetism. I take a snack and thank her.

"I love that you are joining the company," she says, "My name is Irene, I am your father's personal assistant."

"Oh, thank you very much," I say surprised. I am not used to everyone knowing my name just because I am a billionaire's daughter.

"By the way, Anais, I am very happy to finally meet you." Ignacio thanks her for her kindness and attention as she smiles and walks away from us.

"So, you are a friend of my father?" I ask sweetly.

"More than close friends, I met him before you were born," says Ignacio.

"Oh really, how old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know, maybe you are in your thirties," I said, and he laughs.

"No thank you, but no actually I am forty-two. Your dad is a little older than me. He was like my big brother at the Conservatory of Music"

"Conservatory of Music, oh my god. I think dad told me he was studying to be a musician in his twenties."

"Yeah, I was almost seventeen when I met your father."

"Well, luckily you don't look forty. You seem like a young guy starting his thirties," I said.

"Oh God, I wish I could go back to my thirties," Ignacio says.

"Did you lose someone important when you were thirty?" I wonder, he seems to be very affective about his past.

"Maybe, I did, and when I regretted it, it was already too late."

"I understand” I say to him, and he stays in silence for a couple of minutes. In meditation, but finally he adds:

“Everything you can't control teaches you to let go, and everything that abandons you teaches you to stand on your own. Everything that has power over you teaches you to regain your worth," he says.

"These days, I am brave. If I see an opportunity, I take it, without fear."

"I know what you mean. My mom taught me to face my fears. Everything you fear gives you courage to overcome your fears." I explain to him.

"Your mother is a very intelligent woman."

"Yes, she is. Although right now, She and my dad are getting divorced."

"I know. Your father has told me about it."

"Wow, so you guys are really close friends."

He smiles.

"You know something I have learned? Everything that makes you angry teaches you to forgive and be compassionate. Maybe you just have to be compassionate with your father, and with your new boss."

"I am not interested in getting to know him. I already hate him without even knowing who he is," I tell him. Ignacio laughs out loud.

"Maybe he can't control your father's decisions."

"I just feel that I hate him," I murmur. His eyes then stare at me firmly and warmly, and I feel a burning sensation in my body from the way he looks at me.

"But you are right, I have to learn to love from the bottom of my heart, especially when I hate a situation. How old are you? You sound pretty mature."

"I am Buddhist."

"I like that age."

We laugh.

"I am 21."

At that moment, a kitten walks towards us. It comes out from the hallway, between the offices, and purrs, wagging its tail delicately between Ignacio's legs.

Ignacio leans down and pets the kitten, no one else seems to notice that he's affectionately stroking an animal, I smile at his gesture of affection.

“I remember that I used to have a kitten in my rehearsal space.”

“Really?” I ask as I also pet the kitten and lean towards his side.

“Did you rehearse in a garage or something?”

“A garage?”

“ No Jesus, I don't play in a garage since I was in my twenties” he explains.

“Well, I am in my twenties.”

“And you make me want to go back to the garage just to dream about dating a girl like you.”

“Come on, are you romantic?”

“I'd like to think I am when I see you cuddling the cat.”

“That's sweet.”

“So, you wasn´t a casanova when you was younger?” I want to know

“Never” He says. I smile at him.

“Oh, but you're a pianist, musicians are usually like that.”

“Not all of them, mostly we are just artistic and romantic.”

The kitten walks away from us and walks among the guests, who pet him tenderly. He is adored by everyone and steals the attention. My father looks at the cat with a surprised look, then sighs disapprovingly, looks up at me and walks away.

"Darling, I see you've met Ignacio," my father says.

"Ignacio Salvatorri, my beautiful daughter Anais De Miller."

"Ignacio will be your new boss, in charge of international sales and marketing at the company," my father explains. I look at Ignacio, surprised, and my heart skips a beat. He has been mocking me all this time, listening to me complain about my boss, and he was my boss. I look at him ashamed but filled with hatred towards him.

"You have an amazing daughter," Ignacio says, and I hear him talking to my dad while I feel myself fading away and my eyes become dull.

His dad and a new woman, blonde and sensual, the splendid assistant who introduced herself to me when we had snacks, approaches us, smiling, like a dental ad model. She tells us it's time to go down to the restaurant on the first floor for dinner and to celebrate the birthday. Then my dad introduces me to her.

"Darling, this is Irene, Irene and I are dating."

"Ignacio, this is Irene."

Ignacio extends his hand and kisses her hand in a gesture of chivalry, but I barely look at her without saying a word. Then my father and Irene turn their backs on us and walk towards the elevator to continue the evening. Irene, with her advertising model persona, tells everyone to go downstairs for dinner. And I feel like the life I live is a movie, and that I really don't belong in that place. I should be in Rome, feeling the blue hour, turning the entire city blue, forgetting the smile of the perverted pianist, and becoming part of the music.

Ignacio seems to notice my change, as he stares at me and asks,

"Are you alright?" he says, looking at me intensely, with that gaze that made my body burn just a moment ago. But I don't respond anymore, he has stopped being a potential friend and has become the tyrant CEO, my father's best Italian friend.