Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Charlie
"Morning, boss!" She drops a folder on my desk. "Final deck for the Adrenaline Athletics call at eleven. I also added those competitor stats you wanted."
"You're a lifesaver." I flip through the presentation, nodding with approval. "This looks great."
She perches on the edge of my desk. "They'd be crazy not to go with us. This campaign concept is killer."
"Let's hope they think so too." I tap my pen against the folder. "Adrenaline could triple our sports portfolio if we land them."
"You've got this." She fiddles with the stack of sticky notes on my desk. "So... did you talk to the new guy yesterday?"
I keep my expression neutral. "Sebastian? Just briefly. Why?"
"No reason." Her attempt at casualness fails spectacularly. "He just seems...interesting."
"He's a colleague, Zoe."
"Yeah. A hot colleague." She shrugs. "Those blue eyes of his are ridiculous. Like, illegal-in-seven-states ridiculous."
I don't need the reminder. "Can we focus on Adrenaline, please? I want to review their competitive landscape before—"
A knock interrupts us, and I look up to find the owner of those ridiculous blue eyes standing in my doorway, looking annoyingly good in a navy button-down with... yup you guessed it… the sleeves rolled up.
"Morning," Sebastian says, his voice neutral but his eyes searching mine. "Sorry to interrupt."
"Not at all," Zoe chirps before I can respond. "I was just leaving."
Traitor.
Sebastian steps into my office, holding up a coffee. "Amelia caught me in the break room. She wanted me to let you know I'll be joining the Adrenaline call at eleven."
My stomach drops. "Excuse me?"
"She thought having some sports marketing expertise in the meeting would help seal the deal." He places the coffee on my desk. I look down and yes, it’s the exact order I mentioned to him Friday night while we were dancing all hot and heavy and talking about coffee. A peace offering I’m assuming that I have no intention of accepting.
"I've worked with similar brands before. "
"I've handled Adrenaline's preliminary meetings myself," I say, measuring each word carefully. "I'm familiar with their needs."
"I'm sure you are. I'll just be there for support."
Zoe glances between us, clearly sensing the tension crackling in the air. "I'm going to head back to my desk. Buzz if you need anything for the call." She slides past Sebastian with a poorly concealed smile.
Once she's gone, I level my gaze at him. "This is my account."
"I know that." He takes a seat across my desk, too comfortable for my liking. "Amelia wants me involved because of my background. That's all."
"And when exactly were you planning to review the pitch materials? The call is in less than two hours."
"I was hoping we could go over it now?" He gestures to the folder on my desk. "Unless you'd prefer I go in blind?"
I bite back the sarcastic response dancing on my tongue. "Fine."
We spend the next hour reviewing the deck, and I hate that his suggestions are actually good. He knows the sportswear market inside out, offering insights about athlete endorsement strategies I hadn't considered. It would be easier if he were incompetent.
"Your concept is solid," he says, flipping through the competitor analysis. "But Adrenaline's demographic skews are younger than Apex's. We should emphasize social platform integration more."
"I've got that covered in the second phase rollout," I reply, turning to the relevant slide. "See?"
He nods, looking impressed despite himself. "That's... actually perfect."
"Try not to sound so surprised."
A hint of a smile plays at his lips. "I'm not surprised, Whitaker. I'm just—"
"It's Charlotte," I correct him.
"Right." He meets my eyes. "Charlotte."
The way he says my name sends an unwelcome flutter through my chest. I clear my throat and close the presentation. "Meeting's in the Zoom room at eleven sharp. Don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it." He stands, hesitating for a moment like he wants to say something more, then thinks better of it. "See you at eleven."
I watch him leave, then drop my head into my hands with a groan. Two hours with Sebastian in a high-stakes client meeting. This day just keeps getting better.
By 10:55, I'm in the Zoom room setting up the meeting. Zoe has arranged the space perfectly with water bottles, notepads, the presentation loaded and ready. I adjust my blazer and run through my talking points one last time.
Sebastian arrives at 10:58, sliding into the chair beside me. He smells like cedar and something citrusy, and I hate that I notice.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Born ready," I mutter, clicking to admit our clients to the virtual meeting.
Four faces appear on screen: Jason Kendrick, Adrenaline's marketing director; Ava Martel, their brand manager; and two executives whose names I've memorized along with their backgrounds and preferences. I launch into introductions, my professional mask firmly in place.
"We're excited to walk you through our campaign concept today," I say, sharing my screen to display the deck. "As we discussed last week, Adrenaline has a unique opportunity to position itself as both performance-focused and lifestyle-relevant."
The presentation goes smoothly for the first twenty minutes. I outline our strategy, highlighting the multi-platform approach and influencer partnerships we've identified. Jason and Ava nod along, asking the occasional question.
"What sets our approach apart," I explain, advancing to a key slide, "is how we're integrating product performance with aspirational lifestyle content. Our research shows that your target demographic responds to authenticity over polish, which is why—"
"If I could just clarify something," Sebastian cuts in, leaning forward. "The research actually indicates a split response. The 18-24 bracket values authenticity, but the 25-34 demographic—which makes up 43% of your customer base—responds more strongly to achievement-oriented messaging."
I freeze, my hand halfway to the keyboard. He just publicly corrected me. To my client.
"Sebastian raises an excellent point," I recover smoothly, though my heart is hammering. "That's precisely why our campaign includes both elements. The execution varies by platform and target segment."
I advance to the next slide, which details exactly this strategy—the one I was about to explain before he interrupted. "As you can see here..."
The rest of the call proceeds without incident, but I'm seething internally. When Jason mentions Sebastian's previous work with Red Bull, I want to scream. By the time we wrap up with promises to send additional materials, my jaw aches from forced smiling.
"That went well," Sebastian says as soon as the call ends.
I stand, gathering my materials. "My office. Now."
He follows me down the hallway, maintaining a careful distance. I close the door behind us with a controlled click rather than the slam I'm feeling.
"What the hell was that?" I demand, turning to face him.
"What was what?" His brow furrows in what appears to be genuine confusion.
"You undermined me in front of the client."
"I didn't undermine you—I added context."
"Context I was literally about to provide before you jumped in to 'clarify.'" I make air quotes with my fingers. "You made it look like I missed a crucial detail."
"That wasn't my intention."
"Then what was your intention? Because from where I'm standing, it seemed like you were trying to show off your expertise at my expense."
He steps closer, frustration evident in the set of his shoulders. "I was trying to help land the account."
"I don't need your help. I've been managing this client relationship for months."
"And Amelia brought me in because my background adds value. That's it."
We're standing too close now, the small confine of my office is forcing a proximity that feels dangerous.
"Next time," I say, my voice dropping, "wait for me to finish my point before jumping in with yours."
"Next time," he counters, "maybe include me in the whole prep so I know what you're planning to cover."
"I did include you! We spent an hour reviewing the deck this morning!"
"An hour isn't enough to get fully aligned on a presentation of this importance."
"Well, I didn't know you'd be on the call, so forgive me for not scheduling a full-day workshop!"
We're practically toe-to-toe now, both breathing hard, neither willing to back down. The air between us is crackling with something that isn't just anger.
"You're being unreasonable," he says, his voice low.
"And you're being arrogant."
"I'm trying to do my job."
"So am I!" My hands clench at my sides. "A job I was doing perfectly well before you showed up."
His eyes drop to my lips for a fraction of a second, so quickly I almost think I imagined it. "Look, Charlie—"
"Don't 'Charlie' me like we're friends."
"Fine." His jaw tightens. "Look, Charlotte, I'm sorry if you felt undermined. That wasn't my intention."
"If I felt undermined?" I repeat incredulously. "You literally cut me off mid-sentence!"
"To add relevant information!"
"Information I was about to provide!"
"How was I supposed to know that?"
"By trusting that I know what I'm doing!"
His eyes are blazing, intense in a way that sends a treacherous current down my spine. For one wild, insane moment, I'm not sure if I want to slap him or grab his shirt and pull him closer.
Before either of us can speak again, a knock interrupts the tension.
"Charlie?" Zoe's voice filters through the door. "Amelia needs the follow-up files for Adrenaline ASAP. And your 1:30 is waiting in the conference room."
I step back, reality crashing back into the heated bubble we'd created. "Be right there."
Sebastian runs a hand through his hair, creating that tousled look that's both irritating and unfairly attractive. "We should finish this conversation later."
"There's nothing to finish," I say, heading for my desk and start straightening papers that don't need straightening. "Just don't undermine me again, please."
"I wasn't—" He stops himself, exhales slowly. "Fine. I'll be more mindful next time."
"Great." I grab my tablet and move toward the door, desperate to escape the confines of this space and the confusion stirring in my chest.
His hand catches my wrist as I reach for the handle, his touch gentle. "For what it's worth, you were brilliant in there. The way you handled their questions about ROI metrics was impressive."
The compliment catches me off guard, deflating some of my anger. "Thanks," I mutter, pulling my arm free.
"Charlotte." His voice drops, almost reluctant. "About the other night—"
"No." I shake my head firmly. "We are not discussing that here." My anger flaring again.
"You can't just pretend it didn't happen."
"Watch me."
I slip out the door before he can respond, the ghost of his touch still burning on my skin. Zoe gives me a curious look as I stride past her desk.
"Everything okay?" she asks.
"Peachy," I reply, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just a small difference of professional opinion."
"Didn't sound small from out here."
I ignore that comment and change the subject. "Can you get me a coffee please?"
"On it!" She scurries away towards the break room.
As I pull up the documents on my tablet, my mind replays our moment in my office.
The intensity in his eyes, the electricity between us, the pull I felt even through my anger.
It would be so much easier if I could just hate him completely.
But something about him keeps slipping past my defenses, finding the cracks in my carefully constructed walls.
That's exactly why I need to reinforce them. Being burned by Ethan taught me life lessons. I won't make those mistakes again—especially not with someone who's walked away from me once already.