Chapter Text
A Berlint Proposal | Chapter 1 | The Blind Date Solution
✦ ✦ ✦
The air in the coffee shop was tense. George Glooman, the twenty six-year-old heir to Glooman Pharmaceuticals, and Becky Blackbell, also twenty-six and heiress to the powerful Blackbell Industries, were sat together at a corner table.
George was sweating. How on earth had his father arranged this—a blind date with the Becky Blackbell?! Even as the future chairman of a large company, his status seemed far below hers. Blackbell Industries was colossal, and it was mind-blowing that Becky wasn’t already married. His hands trembled as he tried to hold his coffee cup. Even on a normal date, he was nervous; this was too much!!
“Are you okay?” Becky asked, twirling a lock of her long, highlighted hair. Her head was tilted, and her large green eyes, thick with dark mascara and eyeliner, stared straight into his.
“Y-yeah! I’m fine!” George replied, probably too loudly, trying to mask his nerves.
“Hmm…it’s chilly here, isn’t it?” Becky said mischievously, adjusting her jumper and drawing George’s eyes.
Her attire was surprising: a matching burgundy skirt and jumper set, with the skirt’s hem well above her knee. Years of attending prestigious schools had taught George that such attire was frowned upon. Both the skirt and jumper had strategic holes for an edgy, revealing look.
Topping off her outfit were black, spiky knee-high boots with towering heels. George could have sworn Becky Blackbell was quite tall already? Wait...so was she actually more on the short side?
Before he could dwell on it, he noticed her makeup. She was wearing a lot of it. Though it didn’t detract from her beauty, it was excessive. If he didn’t know better, he might have mistaken her for a professional escort. Or something of that kind of nature...
“So…George…” Becky began, pursing her lips. “What is it that you d-” She abruptly stopped, her voice caught in her throat as her eyes widened and she suddenly turned pale staring behind him.
George turned to the window behind him, scanning but seeing nothing unusual. No one was on the street, and the windows of the building opposite were empty.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“T-there’s…s-something…” Becky mumbled, before screaming, “A GHOST!” She collapsed out of her chair onto the floor. George stood up to help, but Becky jumped up, shrieking, “It’s possessing me!” She then began jumping frantically, knocking her coffee cup to the floor, which shattered. People started to stare.
“What?!” George was horrified.
Becky, still shaking, suddenly stopped and pointed behind him. George turned to see a ghost in the window! A pale figure dressed in white with long, unruly black hair, their arms dangling, clearly focused on him!
“R-run, George! B-b-before she gets you!” Becky rasped, clutching her throat as if being choked by the ghost. She fell back into her seat, helpless.
“Ahhhh!” Completely freaked out, George fled without a word.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Becky removed her hand from her throat and sighed with relief. The shop bell chimed as someone entered and sat next to her.
“Well done, Anya!” said the woman dressed as the ghost, grinning.
“God, honestly, Becky…” the woman posing as Becky—actually Anya—sighed, removing a wig. “This is going to be the death of me.” She unpinned her natural long pink hair.
The real Becky Blackbell had already removed her messy ghost wig and was touching up her immaculate shoulder-length brown hair. “No, it won’t be,” she teased, applying lipstick. “Besides, you get paid handsomely for this.” She handed Anya a pack of wipes from her bag.
As she cleaned her face, Anya sighed, “I just feel bad for him. You’ll apologise, right? He didn’t seem like the others… It was his father and yours who set this up; George had nothing to do with it,” she pleaded, using her third wipe.
“Yes, yes, I’ll apologise to George. But his father and mine should know better,” Becky said, crossing her arms.
For context, Anya Forger, twenty-five, and Becky Blackbell, twenty-six, were best friends. They met at Berlint University. Despite their different social backgrounds—Anya being more average, the daughter of a family doctor and a secretary—their bond was unshakeable.
Becky, the only child of Blackbell Industries CEO Bernard Blackbell, had an icy relationship with her father. He wanted her to represent Blackbell Industries fully and had tried for years to pair her with someone of similar status. This led Becky to enlist Anya’s help.
Initially, Becky tried to be normal on these dates and decline politely, but most men couldn’t accept rejection and wanted to prove themselves to their own CEO fathers. Their desperation made Becky turn to Anya. After one too many drinks, Anya suggested posing as Becky and turning the men off with absurd situations, leading to their current scheme.
“Seriously, Becky, we can’t keep doing this forever,” Anya said as they left the coffee shop. Luckily, they knew the owner, Danielle, who found the situation hilarious and allowed them to carry out their schemes there.
“I know, I know. My father has to get the message by now. Besides, I don’t think there are any eligible bachelors left in Berlint anyway,” Becky said, grinning. “Anyway! Let’s go celebrate! My treat! I escaped another blind date, and you’ve got an award at work!” Becky began skipping ahead happily.
Anya followed, knowing she had no choice. If Becky wanted to celebrate, they would. Bracing herself for a long night and a rough morning, she explained, “It’s not an award! They just chose my idea for the next Bondman episode, but they’ll probably make tons of changes.”
“Whatever! That’s amazing, Anya! You deserve to celebrate! Maybe they’ll make you a head writer!”
“That’s definitely not going to happen. With my luck, Bondman might even be cancelled,” she said, defeated.
“What??” Becky stopped in the street. “How could they?”
“It’s what everyone’s saying. They’re bringing in a new president at Berlint TV, and who knows what shakeups that’ll cause,” Anya said, looking around. “Wait… Becky…” Seeing the building ahead, she sighed. “Really? Here?”
Becky stuck out her tongue and did a little dance. “Yep, we’re going karaoke, baby!”
✦ ✦ ✦
“Bossman, how are you finding this office?” Ewen asked, fiddling with his hair, which he had styled tall since childhood.
“You mean your office? Are you going to take my offer?” Damian asked, smirking as he straightened his tie.
Damian Desmond, the twenty-six-year-old new president of Berlint TV, had recently been appointed after the Desmond Group, owned by his family, acquired the station. His father, Donovan, was the CEO of the conglomerate, and his brother Demetrius headed several of its larger companies.
Damian had studied abroad with his best friends, Ewen Egeburg and Emile Elman. After graduation, he worked various jobs at foreign subsidiaries of the Desmond Group to gain diverse experience. Now, he was given the chance to lead one of the group’s main companies and was determined not to mess it up.
“And be your assistant? I don’t know… I don’t think I know anything about TV…” Ewen whined, though with a slight smile; he already knew he would take the job.
“More like my right-hand man. I need someone I can trust,” Damian stated proudly, nose in the air.
A knock at the door interrupted them.
“Come in,” Damian instructed, recognising the secretary.
“Sorry to disturb you, gentlemen,” she said, stepping in. “Chairman Desmond has made dinner reservations for you next Tuesday night at The Royal Berlint Hotel restaurant at eight o’clock sharp.”
Damian sighed. “All right, thank you,” he said without looking up.
Ewen whistled. “Nice place. I’m guessing this dinner isn’t with him?”
Since Damian’s return to Ostania, his father had been pushing him to date. Demetrius had married at twenty-one, and Damian, now past that age, found his single status unacceptable. Donovan even speculated about Damian’s relationship with Ewen, who was also single, after Emile married and joined his family’s enterprise. Amused, Damian had to endure his father arranging blind dates for him.
“No, it’ll be another pointless blind date with some woman I won’t give a second thought to.”