I step out of the shower, the water still warm as it slides over my skin, and wrap a towel around myself.
The room is quiet.
Too quiet for my taste.
I look around to see where Leila is, but she doesn't seem to be here.
So I head to the dressing room to get dressed.
I choose something simple: a long light-pink dress, slightly fitted, perfectly outlining my curves.
I already know what she's going to say.
She's going to want to go out.
Shopping, ice cream, a walk… I know her too well.
That girl is incapable of staying still.
Once dressed, I stand in front of the mirror to dry my hair.
At that exact moment, the door opens.
Leila walks in, carrying a tray of food in her hands.
— Ah, finally! You're out!
I don't answer and keep drying my hair.
She places the tray on my desk, then walks back toward me with a wide smile on her lips.
— Esther… you're going to love this, she says mischievously, waving her phone.
— Go on, I'm listening, I reply without looking at her.
She grabs the chair from my desk and sits very close to me.
— Tell me… the name Arrison rings a bell, doesn't it?
I nod while running the flat iron through my hair.
— Well, let me tell you that Master Gonzalez is their family lawyer.
I drop the flat iron and turn to her, shocked.
— Are you serious?
— Yes. And that's not all.
She looks down at her phone and starts tapping on it.
— What are you doing? I ask suspiciously.
— I'm downloading a photo of Tony Arrison.
— What? No, Leila!
— What? You refused to give me details, so I want to see what he looks like.
— But I thought you had already seen him… since you work with Master Gonzalez, I say sarcastically.
She looks up at me.
— Yes and no. I've heard of the Arrisons, nothing more. I never really paid attention.
She pauses.
— But now that he's going to marry you… I need to know.
Her phone suddenly vibrates.
She looks at the screen, and her expression changes abruptly.
— OH MY GOD.
I jump.
— Why are you screaming?
She stares at me, her mouth slightly open.
— It's him. Tony.
She hands me her phone.
A photo appears on the screen.
I look at it for a few seconds, then lift my head and shrug.
— Yes, that's him. Why did you scream like that?
She blinks several times, as if her brain refuses to process the information.
— You… you're going to marry this man.
— Uh… yes.
— Esther… this guy is literally a Greek god.
I look at her, completely lost.
— Leila…
— No, no, let me finish, she insists, standing up. Short black hair, styled perfectly backward, slightly wavy on top. A clean, controlled haircut, reflecting the image of a perfect man.
His face is defined by a strong, square jawline, perfectly sculpted, softened by a carefully trimmed beard. Not sloppy. Not excessive. Just enough to enhance his natural charisma.
His light mixed skin contrasts with his deep brown eyes—calm, observant. Full, pink lips that rarely smile.
Even Zeus would ask him for advice.
— So you're telling me you analyzed him just by looking at a photo? I ask, incredulous.
— And that's not all. There's even an article about him. Do you want me to read it?
I don't answer.
The truth is, I barely know anything about him.
She looks at me with her big, shining eyes, waiting for my response.
— Esther? So?
I sigh, then nod.
She clears her throat and reads aloud with theatrical seriousness:
— Tony Arrison commands silence and respect without saying a word. His imposing build dominates the space without ever raising his voice. One meter ninety-seven. A solid frame, broad shoulders, powerful arms. He stands straight, confident posture, like someone who never learned how to doubt himself.
She stops for a moment and looks at me.
— Wait… she says, frowning.
— What?
— Tony Arrison. One meter ninety-seven.
She walks a few steps around the room, deepening her voice ridiculously.
— Dominant presence. Posture of a man who never needed to raise his voice.
— Leila, stop… what are you getting at?
— First, stand up.
— What? But—
— No buts. Stand up.
I stand.
She looks me up and down, then positions herself next to me, right at shoulder height.
— One meter sixty-six.
Silence.
Then she bursts out laughing.
— Esther… he could literally rest his chin on your head.
— That's not funny, I say in an almost childish voice.
— Okay, okay, I'll stop. Do you want me to continue?
— No. I don't want to anymore.
— You sure?
I don't answer.
She understands.
— Alright…
She continues anyway:
Born into the powerful Arrison family, Tony grew up in an environment where excellence was not an option, but a requirement.
His father, an influential figure in the business world, passed on a rigorous strategic vision and relentless discipline. Their relationship, long described as cold, now rests on trust built through results and mutual respect.
His mother, meanwhile, runs one of the most coveted luxury fashion houses of the moment. A woman of authority and creativity, whose influence can be seen in Tony's sharp sense of detail and elegance—applied both in business and in his public image.
Very discreet about his private life, Tony fiercely protects his sisters, who are rarely exposed to the media.
In the Arrison family, family is a pillar—not a spectacle.
Beyond Arrison Holdings, Tony co-manages a chain of prestigious hotels alongside his longtime friend, Samir Elkacem. Together, they have developed establishments where luxury is not just about appearance, but an experience designed down to the smallest detail.
Another key figure in his close circle is Ethan Haidara, a bold entrepreneur and strategic partner. His company works closely with Arrison Holdings, reinforcing the group's influence across several major sectors.
Despite personal ties, Tony enforces a clear boundary: professionalism always comes before emotion.
— Honestly, your fiancé is—
— Don't finish that sentence. I know what you're going to say.
I grab the tray, sit on the bed, and start eating.
— You don't want to hear the rest?
— Leila, put your phone down for a moment and come eat.
She sits next to me, then adds anyway:
— For several weeks now, a persistent rumor has been stirring economic circles: Tony Arrison may be preparing to launch a new company—independent, ambitious, and potentially revolutionary.
No official confirmation. No denial either.
A calculated silence.
As always.
Tony Arrison is not simply the heir to an empire.
He is a man of control, strategy, and vision.
A man who moves quietly, but whose every step leaves a lasting mark,
she whispers.
I lower my gaze.
My heart beats a little faster.
— You can't deny that he commands respect, Leila adds softly, laughing. And not just because of his money or power. Look at him—he gives off something. A quiet strength. A presence. Even on paper, you can feel it, right? And he has that elegant side… his haircut, his clothes, his posture… You've seen him in real life. Even with his serious gaze, he has that dimple on his cheek—that little detail that softens everything. It's… intriguing. And he's the kind of man who attracts girls like a magnet, without even trying.
— That's enough, Leila, I say, raising my voice.
She looks at me, amused.
— No need to get mad. I'm just telling the truth.
She bursts out laughing.
I shoot her a murderous look.
— Okay, okay. We eat, she says, raising her hands.
— And stop talking about him.
— Promise. But after that, we're going out for ice cream and shopping.
I knew it.
I simply reply:
— Okay.
And we keep eating, between laughter and silence, while his name stays stuck somewhere in my mind.
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