CHAPTER 6 - THE ARCHITECTURE OF MEMORY
Bella's POV
The elevator climbed. Twentieth floor. Twenty-first. My stomach dropped with each number. What was I doing in this glass tower that scraped the sky?
My reflection stared back from the polished doors. Navy blazer that felt cheap. Hair I'd spent forty minutes straightening because... because why? This was just a job. With a boss who made my knees weak when he touched my hand.
No. Stop.
"Authentication department?" The woman next to me had perfect everything.
"Yes. First day."
Her eyes did this quick up-down thing. "Good luck with that."
The doors opened before I could ask what she meant.
Sandra waited at reception. "Ms. Martinez! Let me show you to your office."
Office. I had an office.
We walked past cubicles where heads turned. Whispers followed. "That's her?" and "Already?" and "Must be nice."
"Don't mind them," Sandra said. "Change makes people nervous."
My office had real windows. A desk that wasn't sawdust. Computer equipment worth more than... everything I owned.
"Mr. Blackwood asked me to ensure you have everything you need." Sandra set down folders. "The authentication lab is on seventeen. Dr. Yamamoto will give you the tour at ten."
"Dr. Yamamoto?"
"Head of authentication. He's... traditional."
Great.
My computer chimed. Email from Alex. Mr. Blackwood. I had to think of him as Mr. Blackwood now.
"Welcome aboard. Senior staff meeting at 2 PM. You'll be presenting your initial vision for The Gilded Rose collection."
Presenting? Today?
Another chime. Dr. Yamamoto. "Lab tour postponed. Find your own way."
Friendly.
Ten thirty came. No Dr. Yamamoto. I grabbed my key card. Seventeenth floor.
The authentication department was sterile white. Machines humming. A man in a lab coat looked up. Asian. Sixty-something. Eyes like ice.
"You must be the new hire." An accusation, not a question.
"Bella Martinez."
"Tour's canceled. We're busy with actual work." He turned back to his microscope. "Everything's labeled. Try not to break anything expensive. Though I suppose you can just ask for a replacement. Must be nice, having that kind of... support."
My face burned. "I earned this position."
"I'm sure you did."
I found the spectrometer. Latest model, like Alex promised. I touched the controls, remembering his hands on that tablet. How he'd leaned close...
"Careful with that."
I jumped. A woman in the doorway. Suspicious eyes.
"It's calibrated for infrared. Very sensitive."
"I know. I wrote my thesis on infrared spectroscopy."
Her eyebrows went up. "Rebecca Liu. Senior authenticator."
"Bella Martinez."
"I know who you are. Everyone does."
"And who am I?"
"The CEO's special project. Hired without proper channels. Private office while we share space."
"I see. What else?"
Rebecca moved closer. "That you're Roberto Martinez's daughter. That Mr. Blackwood's known you since birth. That this stinks of nepotism."
"Right. Anything else?"
"Yeah. You're in over your head. When you screw up, we all pay for it."
She left me with beautiful machines and ugly truth.
One forty-five. Conference room. Glass and intimidation. Twenty faces turned when I entered.
"That's Mr. Blackwood's seat," someone said.
I moved. Tried another chair. The woman next to me shifted away.
Two o'clock came. Went.
"Typical," someone muttered. "He's been distracted lately."
"Ever since the new hire."
The door opened at two fifteen. Alex walked in and the air changed. Electric.
Grey suit today. Darker. Made his eyes look like winter ocean. Dangerous.
"Apologies. Let's begin. Ms. Martinez, would you share your vision?"
Every eye turned. My mouth went dry.
I stood. "The Gilded Rose represents more than luxury property. It's a chance to redefine hospitality art."
"Meaning?" Skeptical eyebrows from across the table.
"Meaning we stop treating art as wallpaper. Each piece should tell a story. Make guests Instagram our walls, not just our beds."
Alex's lips twitched. I'd said those exact words at the coffee shop. When his knee had brushed mine...
"Sounds expensive."
"Investment. Social media drives bookings. The right art creates shareable moments."
"What's your hotel experience?" Silver-haired man who looked predatory.
"None. But I have seven years in authentication. I know what makes art valuable. More importantly, meaningful."
"We're not running a museum."
"No. You're selling experiences. Art is part of that."
Silence. Too much. I'd overstepped...
"She's right."
Alex's voice cut through. Everyone turned.
"We need differentiation. Ms. Martinez understands that."
Our eyes met across the table. The way he looked at me. Like he saw ME. Not Roberto's daughter. Me.
The moment stretched too long. Someone coughed. Alex looked away.
"Next item," he said.
But I felt it. The shift. The line we couldn't cross but kept walking toward.
Meeting over, I escaped to my office. Pressed my forehead against the window. Twenty stories down, normal people lived normal lives. Not watching their boss like water in the desert.
Computer chimed. Alex again.
"Well done today. Don't let them intimidate you. PS: The spectrometer records all usage. In case you need to document your work."
He knew. About Yamamoto. Rebecca. Was watching. Protecting.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. What could I say? Thank you for defending me? For looking at me like that? For making me forget what I should remember?
I closed the email without responding. Safer.
But gathering my things, I felt it. Eyes on my skin. Someone watching.
I looked at the ceiling, toward his office three floors above.
Was he thinking about me too?