Liana

My day is off to a shit start: I've spilled coffee on my brand new fucking skirt and I'm supposed to be meeting with Zayn Malik and his manager in half an hour. It doesn't help that it's cold as brick out and the coffee that was iced—mind you, has spilled through my skirt, past my stockings, and into my underwear. Honestly, fuck whoever gave me the evil eye this morning.

Maybe having the coffee in my lap while I was in the car wasn't a good idea, however, to my defense, I had a million things going on in my head and when the phone rang, it happened to be Zayn's manager. I rushed to answer it and didn't even think to place the coffee in the cup holder like a normal person.

Today, unfortunately, had to be the one day where I didn't have extra clothes in the car. I was already close to the office so I couldn't ask the chauffeur to turn back around for me to go and change my ravaged clothes. The funny thing was, it wasn't even my coffee, because who the fuck drinks iced coffee in this weather? Sophie, my annoying ass best friend, that's who. So now here I was, literally freezing my ass off as I walked into the building with a big wet stain on my skirt.

"Good morning, Ms. Ali!" Deana, the receptionist greets me from her desk.

"Morning Deana!" I greet back as I head towards the private elevators where Jacob, the security guard, greets me with a nod. I click the 4th-floor button, which is where my office is. Soigné consists of several floors. The first floor is just a general receptionist and waiting area, the second floor is the boutique, the third floor is the workshop, and the fourth floor is the offices.

The elevator comes to a stop and the ding signals the opening of the doors.

"Have a good day ma'am," Jacob says.

"You too, Jacob."

I'm greeted by the buzz of chatter as the employees start their usual work routine. I had buttoned the long coat I was wearing in order to hide my skirt but I was still soaked and scented heavily of coffee. I try to rush to my office with both my coffee and Sophie's coffee still in my hands. My assistant, Olivia, rushes to open the double-doors that lead to my office.

"Good morning, Ms. Ali. Do you need any help?" She asks quickly as she opens the doors.

"No, thank you, Olivia. I've got it. Is Sophie here?"

"Yes, she's waiting inside. She got here a little bit ago."

"Perfect, thank you." I step into my office, instantly spotting Sophie resting in my swiveling chair, which is one of her favorite things to do. Her tiny self has got her legs crossed on the chair, as always, and she smiles when she sees me but then looks at me warily because I'm sure she's picked up on the murderous expression plastered on my face.

"First, off my chair. Second . . ." I place her iced-coffee in front of her which still seems full even though it feels as though half of it has fallen on my skirt. "Here's your damn coffee."

"Damn, what's got you in a mood this morning?" She grabs her coffee and gets up from my chair, walking over to the chair opposite my desk.

I put my bag and my coffee down as well and begin to remove my coat.

"Sis! What happened to your skirt?" she practically yells.

"You!" I groan loudly. "Your coffee spilled on me in the car. Next time, get your own coffee, will you?"

She guiltily looks away and continues sipping on her coffee through the straw.

Sitting down at my desk, I grab the office phone and call Olivia.

"Yes, Ms. Ali?"

"Hi Olivia, can you run up to the workshop and grab me a skirt, a pair of black stockings, and underwear? My clothes are currently drenched in coffee and I have a meeting in 15."

Olivia's seen me at my worst so asking her to get me underwear is not a big deal at this point. She also knows exactly what I need so I never have to tell her.

"Of course! I'm on it."

"Thank you."

While I'm waiting, I decide to take a sip of my own coffee which is now warm instead of being hot. I sigh and Sophie pulls the straw away from her mouth to talk.

"I love you, thank you for the coffee." She tries to cheer me up by smiling big enough to show me her dimples.

I shake my head and laugh. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love me." She sticks her tongue out at me.

That I do.

I met Sophie our freshmen year at Parsons when we'd been paired as roommates. Sophie majored in architectural design and minored in interior design while I was pursuing fashion. Sophie was a New York local while I'd moved into this bustling city from a simple town in Texas. Although Sophie was a small Italian girl, standing at 5 foot nothing, she was not someone you wanted to pick a fight with. Because of Sophie, I'd picked up on some New Yorker behavior over the years and even picked up on her slang and accent that would pop up whenever she was pissed. As I grew into the person I am today, Sophie was the one and only person who made me feel less self-conscious and less sorry for myself. Sophie made me believe in myself when no one else did.

I wish I could say I had a good upbringing but that would be a total myth. My father had married my mother, who was white, and his family never really accepted it. For that reason, there would be constant arguing. I was also an only child yet my mother never made an effort to build a relationship with me but I still loved her, however, it was my father who gave me all of his love and attention. Sadly, when I was 6, he passed away from a sudden heart attack: the doctors couldn't understand how it happened, but I personally think it was a cruel trick that the universe was playing on me. After he passed, things had never been the same at home. My father's family constantly fought with my mother and so when I was 10, she walked out. I knew she wasn't happy there but the fact that she didn't even ask me what I wanted is something I won't ever be able to forgive her for. My father's family told her that if she left, she couldn't ever contact me and she agreed. She felt they would give me a better upbringing than she would, but that shouldn't have been her choice to make. From that day on, my mother was also dead to me.

I really tried to get along with my father's family. They tried to bring me into their religion but I couldn't understand it. I couldn't understand their explanations as to why my father had been taken away from me and why my mother had walked out on me. I couldn't understand any of it. Things only got worse as I got older. They didn't think my choice of fashion as a career was practical nor did they want me to go to New York. They would've rather gotten me married off to some stranger. That was why I worked my ass off in High School, earned a full-ride scholarship to Parsons, and moved to New York City without ever looking back once. I have zero regrets and haven't felt more liberated. I achieved exactly what they said I couldn't.

I got a degree in Fashion Design at one of the best design schools, went on to design my own clothing line, and got it to where it is now: one of the most recognized and praised clothing lines in all of New York. Soigné means to be well-groomed or dressed elegantly in French, which is exactly what my clothes embody. At age 26, I am one of the only designers to achieve such success at my age: my achievements have only made me feel humble. I've worked hard to get where I am right now and I am extremely grateful for everything that has happened in my life these past few years.

I'm mostly grateful for Sophie because I wouldn't have gotten here without her constant motivation. I honestly don't think I'd even be alive if it wasn't for her. Which is why I continue to tolerate her no matter how much of a pain in the ass she can be. We have that kind of relationship where we'll argue and say we won't ever talk or see each other again but then we miss each other too much and always make up. I can't go a day without her which is why even when we're both busy we make an effort to at least facetime or we show up to each other's works just as Sophie was currently doing.

Although Sophie is an architecture major, she took up interior designing as her profession and she loves it. Her office is a few blocks away from mine and it opens later than mine does, which is why she usually starts her mornings here and I never mind, even though I may act like I do, just to annoy her.

I'm looking through emails when Olivia finally arrives with my fresh clothing. I have less than 10 minutes. I run to the bathroom that's attached to my office, rid myself of my boots and the coffee-drenched clothing, and wipe away the remnants of sticky coffee from my legs. I put the new underwear on, followed by the black stockings, and finally the light orange colored velvet skirt Oliva had picked out. Not bad. I then tuck the white sweater I'd worn this morning into the skirt, thanking the universe for not letting coffee spill onto it. I put my boots back on and look at myself in the mirror, making sure I look presentable. I fix a few loose strands of hair and then I grab my perfume out of my purse, spraying it a couple of times in hopes that it'll mask the smell of coffee. That's about as much as I could do in this amount of time. I take a few deep breaths to relieve the stress that I wasn't sure why I was feeling.

Right as I step out of the bathroom, Olivia lets me know that Malik and his manager have just arrived in the lobby.

"Perfect timing." I let out a sigh of relief. "Tell Deana to go ahead and let them up."

"I'm gonna head out then. Good luck with your meeting with Mr. Hottie." Sophie winks at me while taking a sip of her coffee on her way out and I purse my lips to keep from laughing. Olivia follows her out to greet Zayn and his manager at the elevator.

I'm not going to deny Soph's comment because Zayn Malik, is in fact, hot as hell. I've never met him but I most definitely know of him and his work. He's known for his looks, why else would be one of the biggest models in the industry? He's also known to look good in literally everything he wears. Therefore, I knew no one could pull off my new line of eastern/western fusion as well as him and that is why I requested him personally for this photoshoot. Through pictures, there's just something about him that seems intimidating and knowing that makes me nervous about meeting him: this feeling is new to me. My palms are actually sweating and I'm quick to wipe them on my skirt.

What the fuck Liana? Get it together.

I sit at my chair and hear Olivia's voice approaching as well as another female voice which I recognize as Leah, Zayn's manager.

"Ms. Ali," Olivia gets my attention as she enters my office once again. I stand up from my chair. "Mr. Malik, and his manager, Ms. Williams."

"Thank you, Olivia."

Once Olivia steps aside, I see Zayn.

I don't know what I had expected but it definitely wasn't this. I feel as though all the air has been knocked out of me and my lungs are no longer functioning. Everything feels like a blur: time has slowed down and no one else exists except him. It's like the world revolves around him, his presence is so enthralling that people near him cease to be relevant. He's enigmatic, mesmerizing, and so much more to the point that I feel drawn to him.

He walks like he's a king and he knows it. His hands are in the pockets of his charcoal colored coat, underneath which he has a black zip-up shirt and black jeans. To finish off his look, he's got on black boots, a pair of round silver eyeglasses, and his black hair is in that famous updo of his. The man has style.

I begin to feel delirious as I take in his presence. I am unsure of what's going on and what's caused this effect. Is it his appearance or is it something else? Something about him is so familiar as if this isn't the first time I'm meeting him. There's this strange sense of deja vu that I can't seem to comprehend.

I notice I have been staring too long due to the longevity of my thought. I blink and finally hold my hand out.

"Welcome, Mr. Malik." I greet him and I notice that he's been looking at me as well.

He smiles warmly and when he takes my hand in his I'm suddenly overwhelmed with emotions. I feel my body tense – my spine straightening. I can hear the frantic beating of my heart.

"Ms. Ali." He says lowly. His eyes are still on mine and my hand is still being firmly held in his. He then bends down to place a kiss on my hand and when his lips meet my skin I feel my whole body warming up.

I feel relieved when he lets go of my hand. I can finally focus without the distraction of his skin on mine and him being so close that I can smell his expensive cologne.

"Please, call me Liana," I say, to which he nods. I'm surprised I was able to form a coherent sentence after that.

Next, I turn to his manager and shake her hand as well. "Ms. Williams, It's so nice to finally meet you. Hope you guys were able to find your way easily."

"Oh, it was no problem at all. It was quite easy to find. You've got quite an office, by the way."

"Thank you." It means a lot whenever someone compliments my office because it was Sophie who decorated it. "Would you both like anything to drink? Tea? Water?"

"Water would be good," Zayn speaks up.

He's leaning back in the chair, his hands clasped and one of his legs crossed over his thigh. That's when I notice the sleeves of his coat are rolled up and his tattoos are peeking out. I'm suddenly overcome with the thought to reach out and touch them. His fingers are adorned with rings and his wrists are clamped with bracelets and a watch.

One thing about me is that I tend to pay attention to every single detail of someone's appearance and I also never forget an outfit. It's the designer in me.

Olivia is quick to bring in a glass of water for both Zayn and Leah. He instantly grabs it and takes a sip while watching me from over the rim.

I feel self conscious.

"So, I hear you personally requested me for this photoshoot," He begins. "I also heard that you never usually request anyone so I've got to say I'm quite intrigued as to what this project entails."

I swear even the way he talks is so hypnotizing that I almost don't catch any of what he just said.

"Right, as I said to Leah over the phone, I felt it would be best to meet with you in person and discuss the project," I explain. "My new line is a fusion of Eastern and Western cultures. It's something I've envisioned for a while and culture is not something you can screw up. There aren't a lot of mixed Pakistani male models in the industry. Because of the fact that you are biracial and aren't afraid to embrace it, I think you would perfectly embody my vision."

My stress is relieved when I notice that Zayn is smiling. "That's a pretty sick idea you've got there. I'm honored to be apart of it."

"That truly means a lot to me, thank you." I'm smiling as well. I'm so happy I could cry.

"I'm guessing we can go ahead and sign the contract now," I say questioningly. "Then I can give you a tour of the boutique and also take you down to the workshop so that I can get your sizes and measurements down."

"Isn't it a little early to get my measurements?" Zayn teases with a smirk and when the understanding of what he's referring to sinks in my eyes widen and I feel myself heating up.

Leah catches on as well and gives Zayn a grimace, which he just shrugs off.

"I- I meant my tailor will get your clothing measurements down for the the... you know for the photoshoot wardrobe."

Oh, the man's got some nerve. I'm beginning to think I won't make it through this project with my sanity intact.

***

A/N:

Hello! My girl Liana has been introduced and I hope you love her as much as I do. Her and Zayn have also met and this ship is slowly but surely sailing. In this chapter you got to see Liana's reaction to him, but soon you'll get to see his reaction to her. The upcoming chapters are gon be gooooood.

Btw, if y'all can't figure out what exactly Zayn is wearing in this chapter, aka one of his most iconic looks, here you go:

Let me know your thoughts on this chapter! Comment and vote! x

-E