Adrien Agreste squinted at the paperwork before him on his sleek, modern desk. How he had even gotten himself into this situation, he didn't know. One moment, he's a model for his father's stupid brand and the next he's struggling to run it with only the help and training of the senior staff.

Adrien wished he hadn't let his father decide his whole life for him. Because of Gabriel's encouragement, Adrien had attended the top university in Paris for four years to get a Business degree. If only he had known the reason behind majoring in Business was so he could take over the company.

With Gabriel Agreste going into semi-retirement, Adrien was learning how to run the whole damn corporation before his father left for England. Despite his father's rather seclusive behavior, Gabriel's sudden plan for departure came as a surprise to both Adrien and the public. As far as Adrien knew, work was his father's life. Gabriel had hardly spent any time with him, let alone eat dinner. And now he was to take over the company in such a short period of time?

"M. Agreste, you have another letter from Mme. Tsurgi." Nathalie, his father's assistant, came into the large office and set a crisp envelope on Adrien's desk on top of the already toppling stack of mail. Although, technically, she was his assistant now.

"I told you, Nathalie. You can call me Adrien. Addressing me as M. Agreste is weird, and quite frankly, a bit creepy. I'm not my father."

Nathalie Sancour is just about one of the best people he had ever known and had been like a mother figure to him ever since his mother passed when he was younger. He knew how she would put up a fight for him back in lycée whenever he wanted to go out with his friends and if it weren't for her, his father probably would've never allowed him to attend public school at all.

"Adrien, I must be professional." She squints through her glasses to read something on her tablet. "I have that new business rule you wanted sent out and it will be put into motion at the start of next week."

"Thank you." He reached for the letter on the top of the pile and slitted it open in one, smooth motion using a mother-of-pearl envelope opener. While he slid the paper out carefully, Nathalie shifted from one foot to another.

"Speaking of your father, he wants to see you in his office at the end of the day."

Adrien looked up and stared at Nathalie for a few moments before sighing and continuing to skim the important notice about the upcoming gala. Of course Mme. Tursgi would want this holiday event to be successful, because if it does well, then it's good not only for Gabriel, but for Tsurgi Industries as well.

Tomone Tsurgi was their best business partner, and much of the mansion and office security systems are made by her company. The technological advancements that have been made were quite extraordinary, not to mention her beautiful daughter, Kagami.

Adrien had competed against the talented Japanese girl back in lycee. They had become close and even dated for a short while. It ended when Kagami wanted to kiss him on the lips and realized Adrien wasn't so sure about anything. She had understood he had feelings for another bluenette.

The one who destroyed his heart.

"It pertains to the gala, I presume?" Adrien looked at his Rolex and saw it was already a quarter past one. His stomach rumbled and he gave Nathalie a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that. I keep forgetting about food."

Nathalie's brow furrowed. Adrien hasn't even officially started as CEO and he was already becoming like his father, slaving over his work until the end of the workday only to keep at it in his home office in the mansion.

She looked at her soon-to-be boss earnestly. "Adrien, you need to take care of yourself. You're starting to act like your father."

Adrien's face flushed at this remark. "I am not my father!" He banged his fist on his desk in frustration. "I will never be like him." His emerald green eyes held her gaze as if he were trying to tell her something with his mind.

While Nathalie knew she might have crossed a line, Adrien needed to face the facts and deal with the reality that's what was happening. "You haven't even started the job yet, and here you are swamped with work," she continued, a bit more subdued. "You're young. You shouldn't be here doing all of this yourself."

"What do you expect me to do?" Adrien stood up and walked over to the window, staring out to the busy streets of Paris through the one-way glass.

"Get married, start a family," she prompted. "See the world. There's so much left for you before you have to become a slave of adulthood."

"I'm twenty-five. I've been a slave for over six years."

"At least you were living, Adrien. Please," Nathalie pleaded. "Don't do this to yourself. I know you want to please your father, but—"

"You're dismissed." He waved her off before he could say anything worse to her. Adrien felt guilty for snapping at Nathalie the way he just did, and she could see the regret in his eyes. Her only hope was that he'd listen to her.

After Nathalie composed herself and left, the blonde sank into his leather office chair wearily. All of this, the training, the stress, his father...it was wearing on him. Perhaps Nathalie was right. He knew she was. But he couldn't give in to it now.

Adrien would never have a family of his own, so at least no one will get hurt with him working all the time. He was single and has been since Dupain-Cheng and her outburst. What she said to him was unspeakable, and she was mad at him for something that wasn't even his fault in the first place!

All he wanted was a friend, someone he could trust. Instead, he got a girl who wasn't who he thought she was. She was shallow and quick to blame him for...he doesn't even know what anymore.

Seeing that he still had admirers, he could probably marry somebody, but it wouldn't be real love. Not the kind he thought he once had. If he thought what he had with Dupain-Cheng was real, how was he supposed to discern which relationships with other women weren't fake?

"M. Agreste," the intercom on his desk buzzed and Adrien rolled his eyes at being called 'M. Agreste' again. He'll never get used to it. "You have a visitor."

"Who is it?"

"Mlle. Rossi."

Adrien internally groaned. The last person besides a certain bluenette he wanted to see was Lila. He straightened himself in his seat and tried to compose himself before telling the employee to send her up.

Two minutes later, a slim, Italian woman sashayed into his office. Lila's attitude and behavior were more arrogant than usual and Adrien took this as a bad sign.

"Hello, Adrien." She said, shoving the stack of papers aside and making herself at home on his desktop. "I'm sure your father has already informed you about the team that'll be organizing and managing the upcoming gala?"

So his assumption had been correct.

"No, he hasn't yet. It's probably why I'm needed for a meeting in a few hours." He resisted the urge to push her off his desk, but that would be inappropriate. "What do you want now, Lila? Or are you here to mess with my head again?"

A smirk appeared on her full lips. "It's not my fault you used to be so gullible. It was some good fun, watching you two dance around each other only to break up after some sort of incident."

"You," Adrien leaned forward, "do not get to speak of her."

"Oh? Are you saying you still love that bitch?"

"I won't tolerate that kind of speech in my office, Miss Rossi. Just because I share the same sentiment, does not mean it's called for."

A hint of embarrassment flashed over Lila's face for a moment before she quickly masked her emotions. Her features changed to a calm expression, which somehow unnerved Adrien even more.

"You don't have to do that," she purred, leaning closer to him. Adrien sat back and raised an eyebrow, hoping she wasn't about to jump on him.

"Do what?" Her perfectly manicured hand picked up the letter he had been reading.

"Try and act professional." She smiled at him sweetly. "I know its because you don't want people thinking we're together—"

"That's because we aren't dating Lila. And we never will be."

She laughed, a shrill sound. "We'll see about that, Adrien." Lila uncrossed her legs and began to skim the letter. Adrien was tempted to snatch it out of her hand but knew that wouldn't be wise. He was just about to ask her to leave when she spoke up.

"I know what you're probably thinking. 'Who's managing the Gala?'. It seems that I may have accidentally brought this list with me." She pulled a folded sheet of legal paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. "I'm sure your father will tell you all about it at your meeting."

Adrien carefully unfolded it but didn't read any of the names. He didn't want to know yet whether or not Marinette was on the list.

"So, what? You bring me this list but what does that get you?"

Lila ignores the question. "I know you've had that hole in your heart since Marinette, but luckily for you, I'm just the thing to fill it."

Adrien scooted his chair under his desk and crossed his arms. "I thought I told you not to speak of her," he spat, his patience wearing thin. "Please remove yourself from my desk or I will have to file a report stating your unprofessional, and quite erratic, behavior."

This was enough to get her to stand up, but didn't diminish her smirk in the slightest. She was getting under his skin and knew it. Lila had many motives and never liked Marinette back in lycee, but her craze for attention made it so that she was always involved, always the cause of the new trend, new gossip.

Why was that woman so keen to make his life miserable?

"Think about it, Adrien. You know I'm right."

Adrien stood up and took her arm, escorting her out of his office. "It's Mr. Agreste to you. Good day, Miss Rossi," he said, closing the door in her face with a loud bang.

He could hear her muffled, exasperated grunt, yet somehow knew she was still smirking. Yes, she definitely was because she had managed to get him riled up, that sneaky fox. Lila seemed to be the cause of half his problems these days.

"What am I going to do with her?" he mumbled, shaking his head. He worked on tidying the room a bit before he had to meet with Gabriel. The fact his father demanded for him to go to his office made his eye twitch.

Slipping Lila's list into his breast pocket to read later, he locked the door and headed to the other side of the building where Gabriel Agreste's somewhat larger studio.

Adrien hesitated then rapped his knuckles against the door twice.

"Permission." He heard the cold reply. Adrien opened the door and stood before his father, more nervous and subdued than an adult should be.

"What is it this time?" he asked, already having an idea.

"Adrien, have a seat." Gabriel gestured to the modern chair in front of his desk and the blonde slowly sat down. M. Agreste stood by the window, his back to his son, hands folded neatly behind him as he looked at the Eiffel Tower.

"As you're aware, we are hosting the second Christmas Gala. The Bourgeois have done a marvelous job five years ago, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, must you remind me?"

Adrien didn't want to remember that night. He was twenty then, and Chloe had gotten him drunk. He of course, dealing with a recent run in with Marinette and got love-sick all over again, which Chloe took advantage of.

"I should hope," Gabriel said carefully, "that you won't be...dancing this year, unless it is with a proper partner."

Adrien's face flushed slightly. "Of course not."

Gabriel cleared his throat. "I have the team selected and I know that you've requested to not be involved, so I have Louis taking the lead on the strategic side in your place."

"Thank you, Father."

"Here is the final list. You are to inform everybody of their new job and that it will take effect in three business days."

Gabriel handed Adrien a list and he anxiously scanned the list. Down at the bottom was the dreaded name.

Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng - Head Designer.

"Father, are you sure—"

Gabriel was fully aware of Adrien's dispute with the talented baker, but paid little attention to it, tagging it as someone frivolous, a petty schoolboy grudge.

"The list is final," he said sternly, turning to face his son. "You're dismissed."

At least Louis would be managing the project instead of him.