Chapter 8
Eight
Ava
Dagen Fox is a beautiful man, but I already knew that.
He’s the most eligible bachelor in the city.
Every socialite foams at the mouth at the mention of his name.
So, of course, I expected a beautiful man.
What I didn’t expect was his smooth command of a room, how his presence takes up the space of the room and owns it.
I’m in his domain, and every part of this office demands I know that.
While that makes me nervous to some extent, it doesn’t scare me.
This is my element. I know how to pitch a plan, and I’ve come prepared.
“So, you see, if we approach it from this angle, we can guarantee a sixty percent success rate,” I explain as I scroll through the information on my laptop. He has the file with copies of my information in front of him that he flips through.
“Sixty percent?” he repeats. “That’s high.”
“We’re confident in our numbers and in our marketing plan.
We’ve run through every scenario and Goliath is prepared to stand behind this promise,” I nod.
“Every point of contact has been created to increase visibility. You have an excellent product. This new security system will be a game changer in the security circuit, so we’re leading with that. We change the game to match.”
I’ve done a lot of meetings with CEOs, some of them just as powerful as Dagen Fox.
Many of them barely listen to my words, focusing on other things while they’re supposed to be meeting with me.
Not Fox. He hangs on my every word. He makes eye contact every time I look over at him.
He asks questions when appropriate. It’s by far one of the best presentations I’ve ever had the pleasure of giving, and it’s because of his engagement.
I detail our plan for his new security system, and when I finish the marketing side, I launch into potential weaknesses with the system itself that may need addressed.
He blinks at my words as I mention the tech side of things, including the coding.
I don’t have a degree in it, but at some point, I’d studied code and learned enough to try and impress Ric. He’d never been impressed.
“I’d like to ask for the information about your plans to prevent security breaches as well.
Code like this can be intense, and with the use of AI, clients will want to know you’ve thought of everything.
Besides that, I think we have plenty of information to begin a marketing campaign you can be proud of.
We’re projecting a one hundred and seventy-three percent increase in profits if we approach it from this direction.
People want safety. You sell it to them.
We just make you look good while doing it. ”
He studies me, those bright green eyes taking in my face before glancing back at the information in the folder in front of him. After a few moments, he meets my eyes.
“You’re exceptionally good at your job, Ms. Hutcherson. I’ll give you that,” he says. “You seem to have found every vulnerability in a quarter of the time it usually takes marketing teams.”
I beam. “My team is great.”
“I’m sure they are,” he nods. “But I think it has a lot more to do with you personally. I’ve worked with Goliath before, prior to your employment, and while I liked the previous woman well enough, I find your approach much more refreshing. And, you clearly know the tech side of things.”
I blush at the clear compliment. “I appreciate your. . . appreciation,” I answer lamely and immediately want to slap my forehead.
Compliments are one of my weaknesses, something I don’t know how to handle anymore, not after Ric.
Every compliment had been backhanded from him, often coming right before some sort of pain, so by the time I’d left, I’d been conditioned that compliments bite.
While I know the issue thanks to my online therapist, healing is a strange thing.
Knowing where the problem originated doesn’t magically make the problem go away.
His eyes crinkle at my response. “Being humble is an honorable trait, Ms. Hutcherson.”
“You don’t have to call me, Ms. Hutcherson,” I say, changing the subject. “We’ll be working extensively together. Ava is just fine unless you prefer to remain formal.”
“You’re right,” he nods appreciatively. “As long as you call me Dagen.”
I nod and open my briefcase, preparing to put my laptop back inside by picking it up.
My eyes catch on the other folder with Dagen Fox’s name that had been sitting under my laptop.
I must have accidently pulled it out with the computer without realizing it.
I hesitate, forgetting for a moment that it had even been there.
I shouldn’t. This meeting has gone well.
Pulling that folder out now will ruin everything.
I’ll just have to come up with a different plan.
There’s gotta be a better plan than this.
I set my laptop in the briefcase and cover the folder with my hand, preparing to slide it off and hide it away, but Dagen holds his hand up and reaches for the folder.
“Is that other folder for me, too?” he asks. “More information?”
I immediately cover the name further with my hand as if that’ll somehow hide it. He’s already seen his name on there, but panic seizes me so suddenly, I forget every smooth line I could have possibly said. He reaches for it when I try to slide it toward me and his large hand pulls it back his way.
“No, wait!” I say, standing from my chair and leaning over the desk in an attempt to take it, my fingers wrapped around the top edge as he lifts it. The manila folder crinkles.
He looks up at me, pausing, his brows raised as he waits for an explanation for my sudden lack of professionalism. I’m practically splayed across his desk right now, but my fingers refuse to let go of the file.
“I. . .” I begin, not sure what to say. “I shouldn’t have even brought that in here. It was unprofessional of me. Please, give it back.”
His brows shoot up impossibly higher, but his eyes darken with interest, his gaze taking in my panic before falling down to the folder. When his gaze flicks back up to mine, I know I’ve just fucked everything up.
“Ms. Hutcherson, what trouble are you stirring?” he purrs, and it shoots through my body like a threat. Problem is, I kind of like it. The dampness between my thighs pools despite my panic.
“Don’t open it,” I rasp. “Please. I’ve changed my mind.”
But he gently tugs the folder from my fingers, careful not to hurt me. His eyes remain on me as he flips the folder open and then he looks down, and. . .
That’s it. I’m going to lose my job.
Fuck. What the fuck was I thinking?