Chase comes in, and I turn my attention to him.Son of a gun, he looks fine.
He glances around the room, his eyes pausing a bit longer on me than others. I take a deep breath and try to remain unaffected.
“Okay, it seems everyone is here. Great. Let’s get right to it.” Chase doesn’t sit but stands at the head of the table, looking toward the men and women across from me. “As you know, I’ve taken over the day-to-day operations of Moore’s, having been given complete control by the majority of the shareholders. And you’ve probably heard that I’ve made some extensive changes as to how the company is run.” He tips his head in my direction. “Denise Hampson, this is Campbell—”
“Dougherty,” Denise fills in, using a name I haven’t gone by in eight years. I can see her brain finally working out how she knows me. Her slick, red lips twitch into a smirk.
Last time I saw Denise Hampson was eight years ago at Douglas Marketing, the marketing firm I worked at directly after college. She was my cube-mate and colleague—the one who took credit for all my work, then accused me of sleeping with clients. I sat in front of our boss in silence, too blindsided to defend myself. This time I will not be silent.
“It’s King, actually. Campbell King,” I say, staring her down, giving her nothing. She blinks, eyeing my bare ring finger, my correction confusing her.
“Yes,” Chase continues, with a slight frown pinching his brows, “of King Marketing. Ms. King will be developing a separate marketing department for Moore’s and overseeing what you’ve been doing for Moore’s through Warren and Baron as well as the new direction we’ll be taking on our own.”
There’s a pregnant pause, one in which Chase simply lets Denise and her cronies marinate on what he just said. “King Marketing’s main focus will be building up Moore’s social media marketing, which has been sorely lacking. Ms. King and her team”—he smiles and nods to Alice, who flushes—“will be working with you to guide us into this next step. They will act as both consulting and marketing firm.”
I have to give it to old Denise; she still has a great resting bitch face. “I see.” A small tick by her left eye starts as she looks at Chase. When she finally deigns to look at me again, the tick stops as she narrows her eyes.
Well, shit. Here we go.
“I was at Douglas Marketing with Miss Dougherty.” She pauses, trying and failing to look apologetic. “I’m sorry, I mean Ms.Kinghere, a few years ago.” There’s a gleam in her eyes as if she’s enjoying remembering our brief association all those years ago. “And though I didn’t have the pleasure that some of my colleagues and our firm’s clients had by working with her…one-on-one, I heard she isverycreative in what she does.”
People around the table are definitely picking up a weird vibe. Brows are furrowed, heads are tilted, trying to decipher the innuendo Denise is throwing around. For once, I’m not betrayed by my fair skin, and my face remains cool. Probably because whatever embarrassment I thought I’d face at Denise’s words isn’t there. Instead, cold rage fills me.
How dare she? How dare she show no remorse for her actions all those years ago? How dare she have the audacity to insinuate less than admirable things about my work? Just how fucking dare she.
“She is,” Chase says. And when I look at him, I’m surprised to see his usual affable demeanor gone, his eyes hard and focused on Denise. I’ve never seen him so tense. “Ms. King is so creative that in the past week, since I first contacted her, she and her team have already put together a digital presentation, complete with financial gain predictions for the new modes of marketing for Moore’s. Something that Moore’s has failed to see from Warren and Baron even though they were contracted over a year ago.”
They say you should rise above, take the higher road, not get pleasure from your enemy’s failings.
To hell with that.
I smile widely and brightly at Denise, her poker face slipping as her red lips pucker like a spasming asshole.
Picking up the boardroom projector’s remote from the table, I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. “On that note, I think we should begin the presentation. I’ll get everyone up to speed,” I say to the room. I look back at Denise. “It’ll be mypleasure.”
Chase
Campbell’s voiceresonates clearly through the room as she flips through the slides and goes into the details of her marketing plan. Funny, her voice doesn’t sound so Southern now. Her distinct twang is nearly undetectable, and I wonder if that’s a conscious thing. There is obviously some bad juju between Campbell and Denise.
Not that I blame her. Since taking over, I’ve detested every moment working with the woman. It isn’t just her incompetence, which makes me wonder how she’s stayed so long on such a high-profile account. Her whole demeanor grates on my nerves. Both as a business associate and as a person. As I said to the table, Warren and Baron has been doing the bare minimum for Moore’s. That, in addition to every unwanted advance Denise—amarriedwoman—has thrown my way, would have had Warren and Baron fired in a heartbeat if it hadn’t been for the damn contract.
I’m well versed in King Marketing’s plan at this point, so I pretend to watch Campbell give her presentation, though I’m really just looking her over. Something I’ve been trying not to do since I walked in here today. I even arrived a bit late, striding in and immediately starting the meeting just to keep my eyes (and my dick) from lingering on her too long.
It’s a good thing I waited, as she looks fine. Damn fine. Between her red hair and her green suit, Campbell looks like Christmas in spring, and I’d very much like to unwrap her while she tells me what a good boy I’ve been.
Fuck. This is not going to end well for me.
Denise interrupts Campbell mid-sentence. “It’s nice of you to put this little show together, Campbell. But Warren and Baron has been handling the marketing at Moore’s for years, and with our extensive experience, I’m sure Mr. Moore”—she glances at me—“seniorwill be more comfortable with what my team and I have already put together. This is New York, after all, not Kansas. Moore’s needs—”
Before I can jump in and tell Denise exactly where her and her team can stick their unwanted and unasked-for presentation, and probably cost Moore’s a mint by dissolving the contract with Warren and Baron early, Campbell steps in.
“What exactly does Moore’s need, Denise? More outdated ads? Lackluster website interfacing? Are y’all at Warren and Baron content to sit back and watch Moore’s get buried beneath your limited, traditional strategy while it sinks further into the red?” The more she talks, the heavier her accent falls, and my mind immediately goes to what she’d sound like all worked up in bed.
Focus, Chase.
“Because if that’s what you think Moore’s needs, then yes, by all means continue with your antiquated marketing plan,” Campbell continues. “Maybe that’s what the senior Mr. Moore wants, as he is, after all, closer to your generation.”
Denise gasps, and Ben and Chris smile into their laptops.
