The morning sun streamed through the massive ss windows of the Las Vegas office ire was temporarily stuck in. She didn''t even try to hide her irritation as she red at the tablet in her hand. Her perfectly nned day, packed with robotics meetings and design sessions for herpany''s sci-fi-themed project, had been hijacked. Why? Because Alexander, in all his wisdom, had dumped his hotel-rted responsibilities on her while he schmoozed an investor.


    "This was not part of the deal," ire grumbled to herself, swiping through the endless designs on the tablet. She had already sent Alexander about ten passive-aggressive texts, but he hadn''t bothered to reply. The sound of her phone vibrating broke her muttering. She picked it up to see his name shing on the screen.


    "Finally," she snapped as she answered. "Alexander, care to exin why I''m suddenly managing your hotel project? I don''t recall signing up for this."


    His smooth, rxed voice came through the line, soundingpletely unbothered. "ire, you''re a CEO. Surely, you know how these things work."


    ire blinked at the audacity, her grip tightening on the phone. "I''m a CEO of Metacortex, not your personal assistant. I don''t know the first thing about running a hotel."


    Alexander chuckled, which only made her angrier. "You''re doing fine. All you need to do is keep an eye on things and make sure the designs match what the interior designer promised. Just check the tablet. Easy."


    "Easy?" ire shot back. "Alexander, I have robots to build and deadlines to meet. This isn''t my-"


    "Look, I''m handling the investor," Alexander cut her off, his tone shifting to one of pleading seriousness. "I really need this deal to go through. Just... help me out, okay? I trust you." ire opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself. His tone, annoyingly earnest, left her no room to argue. She let out a dramatic sigh instead. "Fine. But you owe me, big time." "Thanks, ire. You''re the best," Alexander said, his relief palpable before he hung up.


    ire stared at her phone in disbelief. "The best? More like the busiest," she muttered, rolling her eyes. With no other choice, she turned back to the tablet.


    The next few hours were a blur of meetings, emails, and half-hearted nods as designers exined their visions for the hotel''s sci-fi-themed interiors. ire couldn''t care less about the cement of glowing wall panels or the "immersive alien ambiance" in the lobby. One designer, a man in thick-rimmed sses and a dramatic scarf, waved his arms around as he spoke. "This chandelier, shaped like a UFO, represents the convergence of human curiosity and the cosmos! It''s the pièce de résistance of the lobby." ire tilted her head, unimpressed. "Does it light up?"


    The man blinked, thrown off by the blunt question. "Well, yes, but-"


    "Great. As long as it works and doesn''t fall on anyone, you''re good," she interrupted, gesturing for him to move on.


    By lunchtime, ire was running on fumes. She slumped into a chair in the corner of the office, rubbing her temples. The tablet beeped with yet another notification about the "space diner" concept, but she ignored it.


    Her phone buzzed, and she nced at it to see a message from Matthew: How''s Vegas? Alien invasions yet?


    ire smirked and typed back: I wish. At least that would be interesting. Alexander dumped his hotel nonsense on me.


    The reply came almost instantly: ssic Alexander. But hey! You are the ire Peterson. You can handle anything and everything.


    ireughed. Thanks for the confidence. Really appreciate it.


    She shoved her phone into her pocket, determined to get through the day withoutpletely losing her sanity.


    Later that afternoon, Alexander


    finally breezed into the office, looking smug and far too pleased with himself. He was still in full charm mode, his smile wide as he pped his hands together. "ire! How''s my favorite stand-in CEO?"


    ire, seated at the desk and clearly unimpressed, raised an eyebrow. "Your investor better be signing a multi-million-dor deal, or I''m billing you for emotional damages."


    Alexander grinned, unbothered by her sarcasm. "Don''t worry. It''s all going ording to n."


    "Great. Meanwhile, I''ve been drowning in spaceship-themed nonsense all day." She gestured to the tablet on the desk. "Do you even look at this stuff, or do you just let them go wild with LED lights and metallic paint?" Alexander leaned over her shoulder, scanning the tablet. "Ooh, I like the glowing floor panels. Very futuristic."


    ire smacked his arm with the back of her hand. "Focus, Alexander. Are you actually checking this, or am I doing your job and mine now?"


    He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I''ll review it tonight. Promise."


    "You''d better," ire muttered, crossing her arms. "And next time, try not to dump your entire workload on me. I''m not your backup CEO."


    Alexander''s grin softened into something almost apologetic. "I know, and I really appreciate you stepping in. I owe you one."


    "You owe me ten," ire corrected, standing up. "Now, if you''ll excuse me, I have actual work to do."


    "Sure, sure," Alexander said, waving her off. "Thanks again, ire. Really."


    Back in London, Sandra tapped her


    pen against her desk, ncing at the clock. It was nearly noon, and she had already been through a whirlwind of tasks. Still, one thing nagged at her-Matthew. Picking up her phone, she dialed his number, her brows furrowing as she listened to the ringing.


    "Hello?" Matthew''s voice came through, slightly strained.


    "Matthew," Sandra started, her tone brisk. "We''ve got a meeting with a potential client tomorrow, and you need to be there. It''s important."


    There was a long pause on the other end, then Matthew sighed. "Sandra, I can''t. I''m... not feeling well."


    Sandra''s frown deepened, her pen freezing mid-tap. "Not feeling well?" she echoed, her voiceced with doubt. "Matthew, it''s been four days now. You''re never sick. What''s going on?"


    Matthew bit his lip, leaning against


    the arm of his couch. He couldn''t tell her the truth, not about the wounds he was carefully hiding. Instead, he forced a light chuckle. "It''s just a bug or something. You know how it is. I''ll be fine in a few days."


    Sandra wasn''t buying it. She leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes as if she could see him through the phone. "A bug? Matthew, you''re practically built like a tank. I''ve never even seen you catch a cold." "Well, even tanks need maintenance," he quipped, hoping humor would deflect her suspicion.


    Sandra didn''tugh. Instead, she sighed, the sound heavy with both concern and frustration. "Fine. I''ll reschedule the meeting. But seriously, Matthew, if something''s wrong, you need to tell me."


    "Thanks, Sandra," he said quickly, eager to end the conversation before she probed further. "I owe you one."


    As the call ended, Sandra stared at her phone, her unease growing. Matthew wasn''t just being evasive he was hiding something. And Sandra didn''t like mysteries, especially when they involved people she worked closely with.


    Her gaze drifted toward the calendar on her desk. ire would be back in London soon. Maybe she''d know what was going on with Matthew. Sandra made a mental note to bring it up with her as soon as possible.