The song at the top here is what Milo hears Emery play ❤

Milo's POV:

"Can you explain how this happened?" I snapped, my fists resting on the desk as I glowered at the idiot in front of me.

"Sir, It just wa— "

"God help you if you are about to tell me this was a mistake," I hissed.

"Milo, for God's sake. Get out of here, Keith," Owen, my COO, ordered the idiot out.

Keith. I would need to remember that when I fired the dumb ass.

"Milo," Owen started, reaching his hands out in surrender. "This is fine, we can figure something else out."

"Owen. Go fire your assistant before I do. I won't be as nice as you," I said falling back on my chair and pressing my fingers to my temples.

"Milo," Owen pleaded.

"I'm not kidding," I snapped.

"Milo, come on," Owen tried again, standing on the other side of my desk. "It was an accident, they happen. He's a good kid, we'll fix this," he reasoned.

"That's right. You and I will fix this, he is out of here," I said, pointing to the door. "This wasn't some small mistake. When I made this gala happen I promised a world famous classical musician. That musician was Estele Maribela. He asked her for the wrong fucking day and that prick," I stood up and slammed my hands on the table again, "snatched her up for the right day, knowing it would fuck us up."

"Milo, there are other great classical musicians out there, and I'll keep trying with Estele. Even if we don't get her, you never said what famous classical musician would be there," Owen tried, plopping in the chair across from my desk.

"You really think you can get her now that Mason has his hooks in her? What with her stupid agent in the way, it will never happen. And don't be an imbecile, everyone knew who I referred to when we started this whole thing," I grumbled, walking over to my bar cart.

I poured some whiskey into a glass and downed it before pouring another.

"All right, slow down for a minute. You haven't eaten all day, you dumb ass," he walked over and put the lid on the whiskey.

I glared at him as I downed the second glass. He was much too comfortable with me.

"You can't just call the owner of this company a--"

"Dumb ass? I can if he's being one," he said simply. "Come on, let's get some food so that's at least one less factor in your brewing rage," he said, walking towards the door of my office.

He locked the door of my office and we made our way to the elevator. The doors dinged and we stepped in. Owen leaned against the elevator and stuffed his hands in his pockets. I stood straight in front of the door watching the numbers descend with my arms crossed as the elevator lowered.

"What is your obsession with having Estele be the one that's there? I know she's great, but there are other great musicians. Do you have a thing for her?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I cast a sideways glance then rolled me eyes. "Of course not. She just has the gift," I said, refocusing my eyes on the descending numbers.

"Lots of people have the gift, pick someone else," Owen said with a shrug.

"No, it's not the same," I sighed. "I don't mean the gift as in she's good at playing. Plenty of people are good at playing. It's something else," I explained.

The elevator dinged as we reached the garage and my driver stood ready and waiting with the door to the limo open. I nodded at him and slid inside.

"Evening Luis," Owen greeted with a smile.

"Good evening, sir," Luis responded.

"Owen, Luis. No need for that sir crap Milo puts you through," Owen said with a wink before getting in the car.

"If you undermine me in front of one more person I swear to God I will fire you and make sure you never work in business again," I threatened after the door closed.

"No you won't. But I'll back down," Owen said, settling into his seat. "Now what the hell is this about something else? What else is there besides being really good?

"Your simple mind that enjoys country music couldn't begin to understand," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Milo, I'm sorry," he sighed. "I see you're upset, I know you're angry, I'll stop with the teasing. Just explain it to me so I can try to find you a replacement," Owen appealed.

"I can't explain it to you. It's a feeling- shut up," I glared as Owen quirked a smile at my use of the word.

"Sorry, carry on," Owen said with a mock bow.

"The gift is the ability to not just play the instrument. Anyone can do that, a robot can do that. What a realmusician can do is take you into their space when they play, make an entire room shift its perspective and feel deeper than they've ever felt towards another human. Estele has that, it's not just that she plays well mechanically. It's the way she plays. At an event like this, we need that. Someone that can manipulate the room into deep feeling so they're more willing to drop money as the dopamine in their brain takes over the logical part," I explained with a sigh.

"Geeze. I mean I guess I know what you mean. We'll find someone else with the gift, don't worry," Owen said with a defeated sigh.

The car came to a stop and we exited. We stepped into the unfamiliar dimly lit restaurant and the hostess immediately sat us at a table. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Owen.

"I like this place, they know me," he shrugged.

We followed the hostess to our table and I glanced around, noting the red décor and turned my gaze towards Owen.

"Did you take me to a fucking romantic restaurant?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Would you relax? Trust me, no one thinks we're on a date. They have good food, good wine, by the grace of God it might just put you in a slightly less shitty mood. For Fuck's sake, Milo," Owen groaned.

I glanced around the room once more and noted a grand piano and a cello on a small stage as we passed.

"They have live music?" I asked, looking around.

"See why I brought you? I know that shit calms you. They must just be on break," Owen explained.

The server took us around the corner with the instruments out of view. As much as I enjoyed the music, I preferred this table because it was isolated. No other people around to drive me insane. I was on a short fuse as it was.

I paid no attention as the server came and left. Owen knew what was good to drink. I sighed and looked through the menu as the server brought us a bottle of wine. I drank the glass too quickly and poured another.

"You know, you're not the only one pissed Mason did this," Owen said, shaking his head as he glanced over the menu. "Not only did he make his charity event the same day but then stole our star. I'm aware it's not good for us. But we will fix this, somehow," he grumbled.

"He just knows I need this publicity more than he does," I scowled, setting the menu down and sipping on the wine.

"You mean because you're an asshole and your poor PR manager can no longer portray you as anything else?" Owen jabbed.

I narrowed my eyes and shrugged.

"You really need to work on the personality thing," he said, leaning back in his seat. "This huge charity event can only do so much to improve your image as an empathetic person. People like Mason because he makes them feel relaxed and interesting. You make everyone feel uncomfortable and small," Owen said, finishing his first glass and pouring another.

"I'm aware of how unpopular I am," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Well, you could start with the tone you take with people. Kinda like that one you just had, it doesn't really work," Owen said with a sly smile.

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped, tapping my fingers against the table.

"See, that's also no good. Clearly we won't get anywhere with the personality issue. What we need is someone that grabs attention," Owen said, tapping his glass thoughtfully.

"Yeah, someone like Estele," I retorted with annoyance, finishing my second glass and pouring another.

"No. Not Estele. Think about this," he said, leaning forward and giving me that look he always did when he was about to pitch an idea. They were either genius or complete shit. "Estele is old news. We need someone new and exciting," Owen said, his eyes lighting up. "Someone that more people want to see because not that many have seen them before. Think about it, it has the effect of those bullshit exclusive things people always want to get in on. An air of mystery could go a long way."

I rolled my eyes. He always got big ideas that were a lot more work to execute than they were worth a lot of the time.

"I'm being serious, think about it. Everyone has seen Estele, maybe we should be looking for someone, with the gift," he emphasized, "that hasn't been discovered yet."

"Owen, anyone worth being discovered has been discovered. The internet makes that simple now," I argued, snatching up the bread the server dropped off.

"Stop being so negative and actually listen to me," he said, narrowing his eyes. "This is a good idea. People can go to Mason's event and get Estele, the talented, but maybe slightly overdone musician, or they can come to our event and be entranced by someone new," Owen said, clapping his hands together as if he just solved the greatest mystery of the world.

"And everyone is just going to take our word for it I suppose?" I said doubtfully. "This mystery person just being incredible without being heard?"

"Of course not, we would have to market it like any new product," he shrugged. "We would get them into big concerts until word got around and everyone got excited. We'd have the big names in classical music give them positive reviews. Then the big debut performance would be at our charity," Owen reasoned, his voice growing more excited by the minute.

"And you plan to hire another genius to search out this undiscovered diamond for us?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"What do we need to hire someone for? You are all into that shit," he explained, taking a hunk of bread and biting into it. "You're obsessively into that shit. You'd be able to scout out someone better than anyone else would."

"I don't have time to just listen to multiple untalented people that think they have talent play," I snapped. "Are you aware that anyone can post videos online or play on the street or audition? They don't have to be good. What are the odds I would find someone in a reasonable amount of time?" I reasoned.

Owen rolled his eyes and nodded towards the server.

"You ready to order, grumpy?" He sighed, inclining his head to the server.

"Saltimbocca," I responded, pouring another glass of wine.

"He had a please in there he just left it off with his manners," Owens said sweetly. "I'll take the chicken parmigiana, please," he ordered, handing the server our menus. "And another bottle of wine when you have a chance."

I sipped on the wine and nibbled on the bread but I was distracted. I was completely screwed. PR said I needed to improve my image, it was the only thing holding me back from skyrocketing past Mason's pathetic company. This whole charity was supposed to show off a soft side of me and make me more appealing to the general public and the ass hats that wrote in the paper and magazines. Without Estele, I didn't see how anyone would come, they certainly wouldn't be coming for me. I sighed and slumped my shoulders slightly.

It was fucking hopeless.

"Maybe we should practice, I don't know, not being a rude human being," Owen suggested.

I glowered at him.

"Yeah, starting with that. Do you even know how to smile?" He asked.

He continued on with a slew of jabs and I ignored him as I finished my glass of wine and poured another. It wasn't that I didn't know I was generally disliked, I knew it, I just didn't care. I'd spent years trying to learn how to be a likable person and all it ever got me was suffering. I was done being nice to people that most likely just wanted money from me. People weren't nice to me because they were genuine, they were nice to me because they wanted money from me and I was done pretending that I didn't know their motives. I was lifting the glass to my lips when music started.

It was The Swan from the musical suite by Camille Saint-Saẽns. It started with the piano before the cello started. The moment the cello joined I felt it. The swell in my heart. I released a breath and stayed where I was for a moment, to make sure it wasn't just the wine.

The music continued and it was definitely not just the wine.

"Milo, are you listening to me?" Owen asked.

"Hush. Listen," I said, waving my hand at him to make him shut up.

I stood up and slowly made my way around the corner towards the sound. I paused when I saw her. If I felt the music in my every limb, she felt it in the depths of her soul. I could see it and feel it as she played. She pulled me into her realm until it seemed like nothing but the music was there, surrounding us. I watched her fingers move, not expertly, but fluidly, as if she was part of the cello and part of the music she played. It was as if she embodied the song itself.

"The gift," Owen whispered next to me.

I hardly heard him. I continued to watch her, her eyes remained closed. She was lost in this realm, too. Nothing had ever looked or sounded so beautiful. As if that wasn't enough, her blue eyes fluttered open and it was as if we somehow had an understanding that we were both feeling that moment the same way.

As her song came to an end I felt deflation. I never wanted to stop listening to her play. Then they started another and her eyes slid shut again. She was just as lost in the next song, taking me with her into another realm, feeling every note played, as if her fingers were dancing along my soul itself. I couldn't move away from her, I couldn't stop listening. I wasn't sure how much time went by before they stopped

Her eyes opened again and those blue eyes met mine briefly before she blushed and looked away from me. She smiled slightly, nodding to the pianist. She pushed back her golden hair and rose to let him take over.

I strode over to her quickly. She jumped as she turned and nearly bumped into me. She gazed up at me and I found myself unable to explain myself as her blue eyes went wide at my sudden presence.

"That was magnificent," Owen said, holding a hand out to her.

"Oh, thank you," she said, smiling.

When she met Owen's handshake he covered her hand with both his and tugged her away from me, giving me a dirty look in the process. It wasn't until then I realized I had trapped her unintentionally.

"How long have you played?" Owen asked.

"Oh, forever, since I was four," she answered, glancing towards me curiously

"Wow, so young. You play beautifully, what's your name? Where else do you play?" Owen asked.

"Oh, uh, this is the only place I play," she stuttered out.

It was strange that I, the person with less people skills, noticed how uncomfortable we were making her. I cleared my throat and nudged Owen.

"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves, I'm Milo Sanders, this is Owen Merker. It just so happens we were just discussing finding a new musician and here you are," I explained.

"Oh God, terribly sorry. I just got so excited. Milo was entranced by your playing and you rarely see him that close to a good mood, I was ready to hug you for getting him to chill for a few seconds. But yes, I'm Owen," he added with a smile.

"Uh, well, hi. I'm glad you enjoyed the music..." she said sweetly, furrowing her brows.

"Right, I'm sorry. Let me try this again. Milo is the owner and chairman of his electronics company, I'm the COO. We are having a charity event where we planned to have a concert featuring Estele Maribela—"

"Wait, Estele Maribela?" She asked, her eyes widening.

"Yes, but the thing is, she was sort of stolen under our noses and we were left with, well, nothing, until we heard you, like a god sent cellist angel," Owen said, gesturing towards her in a very grand way.

"Wow," she breathed out. "See it almost sounds like you're saying I could play at a concert where people are expecting Estele Maribela, and I know that can't be right. Are you messing with me as a joke or something?"

"Absolutely not. It just so happens our new plan was to find fresh, talented blood with the gift," Owen gestured to her, dramatically, once again, "to make things more exciting, and here you are, as if fate had destined it to be."

All right, his flowery words were starting to annoy me.

"All right. Enough with this. What's your name?" I asked.

Her eyes shot to mine and she still seemed suspicious of us.

"Emery," she responded, meeting my gaze.

"Just Emery? You're not a part time stripper are you? Come on, I don't have time for this one name nonsense," I asked impatiently.

Her eyes narrowed and she turned so she faced me head on with squared shoulders. Her eye bore into mine and she cocked her head to the side.

"No, I'm not but I'm sure you'd know that since you seem like the type that spend all his time in strip clubs, unable to get a woman to spend time with him without paying," She snapped back.

Owen bust out laughing and I glared back at her.

"I think you're perfect for this. Miss, please, ignore my colleague, he's more than a bit rough around the edges," Owen explained in an apologetic tone.

"I'm still not totally sure what you're asking of me," she responded to Owen, never breaking eye contact with me.

It was annoying and refreshing, someone that wasn't afraid to back down from me.

"I, uh," Owen glanced between us then grabbed my arm and jerked me over, breaking our eye contact. I could've sworn I saw the smirk indicating she believed she won that standoff, and that pissed me off. "Milo, for fuck's sake, back down," Owen hissed before smiling at Emery. "Emery, such a pretty name, we would love to work with you, get the exposure you deserve, and do a sort of debut of your talent at our charity gala. We would, of course, provide compensation for it," Owen explained, continuously nudging me to silence when I opened my mouth to speak.

"Forgive me, you can see how this seems a little too good to be true," Emery said, smiling lightly at Owen.

"I understand," he nodded. "Here." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card. He offered it and she took the card into her hands, glancing over it. "The third number is my cell. Call me and we'll set up a meeting at our office, I can show you how legitimate the company is, the plans for our charity gala, we can work on a contract, what do you say?" Owen asked, opening his arms out as a show of surrender to her.

I rolled my eyes and looked towards Emery.

"All right," she agreed cautiously.

"Fantastic. For business' sake, I'm Owen Merker, and you are...?" he asked, offering his hand once more.

She seemed to contemplate for a moment then sighed and smiled, reaching her hand out to shake his. "Emery Barner," she said.

"Emery, I so look forward to hearing from you. So does Milo," Owen said, nudging me again.

I glared at him but gave it my best shot to give her a polite smile and nod.

"Nice to meet you," she said, still eyeing us suspiciously.

Owen gave her a bow and grabbed my arm, pulling me back to our table. "Shit, Milo, I won't let you into the meeting with her if you're gonna be a rude dumb ass like that!" He hissed.

"Who introduces themselves by only their first name?" I pointed out.

"Uh, I don't know, maybe a girl who was aggressively approached by two men who were over enthusiastic about her to a creepy degree? Just a thought," Owen said, plopping onto our table.

I paused and considered his words. I remembered the way her music moved me and looked at Owen seriously.

"We need her," I stated.

"I know, we'll make it happen. Don't worry," Owen reassured.

A/N:

Well hey there awesome readers! I am overwhelmed by the support I already got on this book because somehow it's already at 1K reads?! I love you guys so much 😭😭😭 Let me know what you thought of this chapter!

Thoughts on Milo? 

Thought on Owen?

Ooof, that first meeting between Emery and Milo was a little rough, methinks they're going to be butting heads a bit 😏

Until Saturday loves, have a great rest of your weekend!