Page 23 of Best In Class
It’s insane how good he is at working in a team, and I bet he’d be just as good as a team leader as he is a member. He doesn’t step on toes, he’s always kind and respectful, andknows when to back off a discussion and when to push ahead.
“This is the atrium.” I use the red laser pointer on the clicker to circle the area on the blueprint on the screen. “South-facing to maximize daylight harvesting. We’re using electrochromic glass to reduce glare and heat gain without sacrificing visibility. And this—” I tap the edge of the screen with the pointer, “—is the vertical garden that’ll serve as both an air purifier and mental health anchor for the pediatric wing.”
One of Tommy’s clones murmurs, “This is a bit too ambitious.”
I hold back a sneer.
Tommy leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers. “Luna, I like the optimism, but let’s stay realistic. We don’t need boutique concepts. We need a hospital.”
I keep my face carefully neutral. This is the damn plan he signed off on—and now he wantswhat? Some sterile, gray-walled monument to mediocrity?
Well, fuck that.
“Thisisa hospital. One that heals people using light, nature, and science. This isn’t boutique—it’s evidence-based design,” I clarify calmly, no heat.
Not about to give these assholes the satisfaction. This isn’t my first rodeo. I work in a male-dominated industry, where being undermined with words like ‘fluffy’ or ‘boutique’ isde rigueur. If you’re a female architect, men like Tommy reframe your strength as decoration.
Dom clears his throat right when Tommy looks like he’s about to speak. “Luna’s right; the upfront investment in energy efficiency pays for itself in under six years. Plus, research shows patients recover faster in biophilic environments.”
Tommy frowns. “Still sounds like fluff.”
“Tommy, this is what you signed off on,” Dom reminds him patiently.
What I notice about the grown-up Dom is that he doesn’t lose his temper, doesn’t fly off the handle. There is an intrinsic calm about him, like he can’t be rattled, and he also can’t be moved without a good argument.
He’s a mature thirty-two, while I feel like I’m just cosplaying adulthood at thirty-one—masking the fire, the fury, the sheer frustration of moments like this. What I want to do is rip Tommy a new one. What I do instead is stay composed, breezy even, and keep pushing my argument forward. I know I’m right. But I also know that Tommy’s the client, and clients with money tend to think that makes them architects, too. My job isn’t just to be right—it’s to make him feel safe choosing my way.
Tommy shrugs. “Yeah…but what looked good as a plan—I’m not sure it can be implemented. And the budget isn’t endless, Dom, you know that.”
“Luna, want me to pull up the cost analysis?” Dom asks casually.
I nod, appreciating the gesture. He’s deferring to me without making it a show—reminding Tommy exactly who’s leading this project.
I walk through the calculations with crisp precision, ending with, “As you can see, we’re on scope, on schedule, and on budget.”
Tommy grunts, unconvinced.
Dom leans back in his chair, steeples his fingers, and smiles just a little too pleasantly. “Tommy, you said you wanted timeless. Hard to build a legacy if you’re sweating over every fuckin’ nail.”
I couldn’t get away with saying something like that—not without being labeled emotional or difficult. But Dom, as a man, can.
I can’t swear in a meeting with a client; I’ll be seen as rude. But Dom can.
I can’t challenge the client; it’ll be perceived as insolent. But Dom can.
It’s not fair.
It’s not equitable.
It’s just how things are.
In another meeting room, I know Dom—half-black in a room full of white men—would face the same silent, insidious power dynamics I do. But not here. His Pritzker Prize, his portfolio, the way he walks into a room like he belongs there—it’s earned him something rare: their respect. It’s astonishing what he’s accomplished. And now that I’m watching him handle Tommy with a surgeon’s precision—disarming, guiding, never pushing too hard—I get it. It’s not just that he’s an exceptional architect. It’s how he manages people, reads a room, and plays the long game.
This is client management at its finest—and I’m here for it, learning.
I take my seat next to Dom. I glance at him. He meets my eyes, his expression gentle.
He winks at me, mischief in his eyes, like we’re sharing a secret, like we know he’shandlingTommy, and he’shelpingme handle him as well.
