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"Lina," he began, a soft sigh escaping his lips, "I admire your idealism, but we can't lose sight of our goal. This car, as great as it is for the environment, is still a product we need to sell. And to sell it, we need to appeal to what our audience wants. Luxury, high-performance, success—that's what they're after."
"But isn't that why we're here?" I countered, my voice a whisper in the darkened office, "To tell stories that matter, to create an impact. Isn't that why you got into advertising in the first place? I know I did."
Hank's usually calm demeanor began to waver. His fingers drummed impatiently on the blueprint spread before him, his eyes flickering with a tinge of agitation I hadn't seen before. "You know," he said, his voice taking on a new edge, "Not every project is your personal platform for saving the world."
I was taken aback. My ideals, my beliefs, suddenly felt like stones being hurled back at me.
"And you," I shot back, my voice trembling slightly, "You've turned everything into a commodity, everything reduced to dollar signs. Is that all you see in this world? Profit margins and balance sheets?"
"God, you're so naive," Hank spat out, his jaw setting into a hard line. His eyes were filled with a mix of frustration and disappointment, "Your principles, your idealism. It's isolating you in a bubble far away from the realities of this business. And let me tell you, it's profits, not your ideals, that keep this place running."
His words struck like a slap. Could profit and principles not coexist? This was no longer just about an ad; it was about the very fabric of our beliefs, the principles that guided us in our work and our lives.
I took a deep breath, my fingers clutching the blueprint as if it was a lifeline. "You're just running," I spat out, my voice quivering, yet firm, "Running from the complex issues, hiding behind your profit sheets. But I am not afraid. Not afraid of the truth, not afraid of our responsibility. Our actions have consequences. And I refuse to turn a blind eye."
Hank shot back, his eyes blazing. "You think you're the office's savior?" he retorted, the sarcasm in his voice sharp enough to cut, "Your ideals, they're unrealistic in the cutthroat world of business. Your insistent idealism could cost us Liltech. It's not just about you and your worldview. We've all invested a lot of time and effort here. Mike... you... even I have."
"No, Hank," I shot back. "You're the one jeopardizing Liltech with your worldview. And not just Liltech, but every project we ever undertake. Your incessant focus on profit, your refusal to connect with the values of our clients, that's the real threat here."
Hank's resentment seeped through his composed exterior. I could see it in the furrowed brow, the tight jaw - his annoyance at my refusal to prioritize profit over purpose. His voice, previously so steady and controlled, now wavered under the weight of a truth too bitter to remain unsaid.
"God, I can't stand working with you, Lina," he blurted out.
His admission caught me like a slap, the sting of his words sinking deep beneath my skin. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, a dull echo against the throbbing pain of his rejection. My breath hitched in my throat as I stared at him.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I summoned the remnants of my courage. "Well, Hank," I retorted, my voice sharp as I reflected his animosity back at him, "the feeling is mutual."
Silently, I berated myself for ever entertaining the thought that I could have had fond feelings for Hank. Now, I was sure that any semblance of liking I'd felt for him was nothing more than masked aversion. With a determined strength, I began to gather my belongings.
"I think it's best if I call it a night," I told him, my voice resolute.
As the office lights dimmed, I stepped into the elevator, leaving the remnants of our heated dispute behind.
Chapter 15: Lina
Just as the elevator doors were about to kiss each other goodnight, a hand shot through the narrow opening. They parted with a reluctant sigh, revealing Hank, breathless but determined. He squeezed himself into the small enclosure.
I angled myself towards the elevator panel, my gaze fixed on the glowing number counting down the floors. But no amount of distraction could suppress the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside me. The close proximity to Hank was the last thing I needed.
"Lina," he began, his voice surprisingly gentle, "it's late. I can give you a ride home."
I blinked at him, my brows furrowed in disbelief. Was he seriously offering me a ride home after confessing that he despised working with me?
"I would rather take a cab," I retorted.
Ignoring the chill in my tone, Hank forged ahead, the corners of his mouth pulling downward. "It's not safe to take a cab this late at night."
"Really, Hank?" I shot back, my voice steeped in irony. "You despise working with me but you're concerned for my safety? Stop this pretense. You've made your feelings clear."
He was quiet for a moment, his jaw clenching as if he was wrestling with his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice carried an unexpected intensity. "You have no idea how much I care about you, Lina."
His words hit me like a ton of bricks, sucking the air right out of the elevator. I could only stare at him, his words reverberating in the confined space, leaving me utterly stunned.
Then, without warning, Hank punched the emergency stop button, jolting the elevator into a sudden stillness. My heart was hammering against my ribcage like a trapped bird, while he took a step closer to me.
His hand rose to cradle my face, and before I could fully process his intention, he closed the distance, claiming my lips in a searing, unexpected kiss. His touch set off fireworks. I stiffened initially, taken aback by the surprise attack, but his gentle persistence gradually melted away my resistance.
His lips were warm and firm. A soft moan escaped me as he pulled away slightly, a sound of longing that resonated in the silent elevator. I didn't wait for him to initiate again. With a newfound boldness, I reached for him, bridging the distance he'd created. I pressed my lips against his, meeting his passion with my own. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, and mine moved of their own volition to cup his firm ass. The heat between us rose, our bodies swaying in sync with our shared rhythm.
