Adrien knew if his father wanted to see him twice in three days, it wasn't a good sign. Oh, it was definitely a terrible one.

"What is it this time, Father?" he sighed. "I don't remember you having me come over here just so you can see me."

Gabriel sat at his large desk and was signing some papers.

"Adrien, remember how I told you that Louis would be managing the gala?"

"Yes," the blond said through gritted teeth. "I also remember you saying that I wouldn't have to be involved in this whole thing."

Mr. Agreste handed Adrien a sheet of paper. It was a print-out of an email, with someone saying that they are sick and can't come to work.

"Mr. Thompson is unable to come to work for the next two weeks. With that being said," Gabriel stood up, "you are to take the lead in managing the gala."

"What?" Adrien crumpled the printout and threw it on the desk. "No. I refuse to be a part of organizing this event!"

"Why? Because your ex girlfriend is the second lead for organizing the gala? Honestly, Adrien, I would've thought that you'd man up by now and stop being so childish."

Adrien felt his cheeks warm. "I am not being childish, I'm simply unable to support such an event that frowns upon the middle and lower classes who are unable to fend for themselves."

Gabriel froze. "Ah, I see." Of course his son had to go there. Its not his fault that the lower classes didn't think of merging to survive. "Well, regardless, you are to work on the team. Understood?"

Adrien simply scowled and left the room.

Sometimes Gabriel wondered why his son had to be so much like his wife.

Marinette had gotten an email the afternoon before saying that she was to meet in the boardroom to discuss things with the team. She was both thrilled and nervous to be starting this project, but had faith that they would be able to achieve such an accomplishment as throwing an entire event in a month.

Camille and Genevieve were happy for her, unlike some of the others, who, thanks to Lila, now have a sort of hatred for her. As if she were stealing their spot. Marinette had to keep reminding herself that she deserved the job and the reason she was chosen was because she wasn't just good, but amazing at what she does.

"Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, please sit down." Nathalie pointed to the nice leather office chairs that surrounded the T-shaped table. A projector in the front of the room showed the Gabriel logo, but instead of silver, it was gold.

"Nathalie, you can call me Marinette." She smiled. It was only Nathalie's nature to act so professionally, yet Marinette felt as if she'd known the woman long enough-since the early years of being with Adrien. Nathalie was the one who'd help Adrien organize and acquire the things he needed for the romantic dates he took her on, who was always humble, giving credit to the hard-working assistant.

If only she had known Adrien was a two-faced jerk. Never trust the rich kids.

"If that's what you wish, Mlle. Marinette," Nathalie replied before leaving the room, no doubt going to escort more people to the boardroom.

"So, you're rather new, aren't you?" a voice drawled. Marinette jumped. She hadn't realized that she wasn't alone.

"Yes, about five months. And you?"

"Two weeks ago," the man said. "I'm Donald. Donald Wilson." He stood up and offered Marinette his hand. She took it and gave it a firm shake.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You're not from here, are you?" she asked.

He chuckled, smiling with white, pearly teeth. "You're rather perceptive," he stated. "I like that. No, I'm from the good 'ol USA."

Marinette couldn't help but return his contagious smile. Her parents have dreamed of moving to America to open up a bakery there where there were less oppositions getting in their way of business. Taxes were certainly lower, but right now things aren't too great for businesses with the current president.

"So you're the foreign designer we've all heard so much about. Your French is amazing," she said in English, making him grin even wider.

"You speak English!" he bellowed, laughing. "I wasn't expecting many people here to know the language, but then, I shouldn't be so surprised."

"We're taught it in school. What languages do you learn in America?"

"There are options. Number one would be Spanish, next would be French and German. In college, it really depends on what you want to do with your life."

Marinette appreciated his intelligence and kindness. "I took English as a minor in college because I know there's a good market for America and England."

"Have you always known you wanted to go into design?" he asked, looking at the clock. Donald was trying to stall.

"Yes, since highschool. How about you?"

"Same. It's the reason I took French so I could attend the top fashion university and get a great job in the industry. I think I recognize your name, being the top in your class."

"You graduated in '21 too?"

He nodded and sat back down in his seat when he saw the door open.

"Please take a seat everyone," Nathalie said to the small queue of people filing in. "M. Agreste will be here any moment."

As if on cue, Gabriel strode into the large room, looking at the 30 or so people that sat before him. He took a seat at the head of the table, the horizontal part of the T, and cleared his throat.

Nathalie flicked off the lights and a powerpoint presentation started to play.

"Here at Gabriel, we strive for excellence, to be the best of the best," Mr. Agreste began.

Slides showing awards and headlines for Style Queen flipped on the screen. Fashion shows during Fashion Week and special company events. Then it went on to show the same gala they'd be planning, but five years ago, hosted by the Bourgeois.

Red seemed to be the theme, accented with white and silver. Rich red tablecloths were on the long rectangular tables. Silver platters of desserts were on the food table, and it looked like you could just order food from the Hotel's bar.

And the drinks.

So. Many. Drinks.

They were supposed to beat this? The slides faded into images of a Christmas corporate party a few years ago, in celebration of a successful line. Images of models walking down a runway glittered in.

"We can do much better than this..." Gabriel stood up. "I have faith that the two people I've chosen are more than capable of leading us to a successful night. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and my son, Adrien Agreste, will be organizing a Gala that will not only be better than five years ago, but will showcase the creativity and originality we have here at Gabriel."

Everyone turned to look at the two and Marinette realized that Adrien must've slipped in just before his father entered the room. She caught Donald's gaze from the corner of her eye and saw him wink at her.

Wonderful.

"Each of you has a designated task in terms of getting the gala's line done in time for the showing. Nathalie." Gabriel nodded to his assistant who started to pass out packets.

"Mlle. Dupain-Cheng and Adrien will be taking care of the event itself, such as venue, theme, ect. The rest is up to you all."

After Nathalie finished passing out papers, she turned on the lights and Gabriel dismissed everyone except for Adrien and Marinette.

"It was nice meeting you, Marinette," Donald said with a wink.

Gabriel waited until everyone else had left the room before sitting down again, gesturing for the two to join him.

"Marinette, first, let me just congratulate you on winning the local design competition," Mr. Agreste started.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. "I never entered any competition," she said, confused.

"Ah, but you did!" Gabriel handed her a manilla envelope with a certificate and $500 gift card for her favorite fabric store. "Your friends may or may not have entered you."

Marinette found herself covering her mouth. "I-I don't understand...Is this why I'm here right now? Because I won a contest?"

Adrien rolled his eyes. So emotional.

"On the contrary. You are here because I've seen your work. You have experience. I told you that if you kept up the good work, you'd be seeing a promotion. Here it is."

"How is the Gala a promotion?" Adrien asked. "Any idiot off your staff could help plan this thing."

Mr. Agreste ignored his son, continuing, "I find your taste to be new, fresh, and unique yet somehow traditional at once."

"I-I don't know what to say."

"Nothing needs to be said, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng."

"Oh come on," Adrien muttered. "She's not that good."

Gabriel cleared his throat, glaring at Adrien. "I apologize for my son's behavior. He's been out of sorts lately."

"He always is," Marinette replied cheerfully, earning herself a scowl from her ex.

"Your pay, of course, will be tripled. Here is your Christmas bonus early since my son has decided to be so...unpleasant." Gabriel took a check from his jacket pocket and handed it to the bluenette, whose eyes went wide with surprise. Five thousand dollars.

Mr. Agreste picked up two folders, handing them to the two. "Here are your portfolios. I expect nothing less than the best. Nathalie, please show Mlle. Dupain-Cheng the door." Adrien was about to leave but Gabriel stood up and looked out the window.

"Adrien, I thought I told you-"

"Yes, I know Father, but she's just so-"

Gabriel quickly turned around to face his son, anger flashing through his eyes. "Welcome to the real world. I don't care about this little...feud. Sometimes you have to work with people you dislike. Period."

"But-"

"We are done with this conversation!" he barked. "You are to work with Mlle. Dupain-Cheng whether you want to or not. Do I make myself clear?"

Adrien lowered his gaze, but didn't dare to sound so submissive. "Yes, Father," he said through gritted teeth. Gabriel simply waved his hand, dismissing his son without another word.

He would learn to get along with Marinette. Adrien has to, Gabriel thought.

Or the company is screwed.

His computer dinged with an email and he skimmed through it, Louis having gotten back to him.

"Mr. Agreste,

Thank you so much for the two week vacation. My wife and I greatly appreciate it. Look forward to coming back in time to help settle things before the New Year.

Best regards,

Louis Thompson

"Wait," Gabriel said, stopping Adrien in his tracks. The blond turned around expectantly. "Marinette left her bag here. Hurry and give it to her before she leaves." He gestured to the small, pink, handmade purse that Marinette has carried with her since she was thirteen.

Adrien said nothing, grabbing the bag and quickly walking out the door. Like hell does he want to give that horrible woman her bag, but Adrien knew if he didn't, his father would eventually find out and be furious.

God only knows that wouldn't be good.

He hurried outside without a coat, and it was just his luck that small snowflakes were falling from the sky, his hot breath visible in the frigid air. He looked around and saw the bluenette in her pink handmade scarf, quite reminiscent of the one his father gave him for his birthday all those years ago.

"Hey! Dupain-Cheng!" he shouted, gaining her attention. "You forgot your bag!" He waved the small purse in the air and he could've sworn he saw Marinette blush, although that just might be from the cold wind.

"Shoot!" She lingered outside the taxi, the door slightly open. Adrien handed her the purse and Marinette took it, offering a terse thank you before getting in the cab.

Adrien watched as the white car drove away and wondered if she had left her bag on purpose so she could see him again.