5. Felicity
FELICITY
Ihoped I didn’t look as overwhelmed as I felt.
Of course, I knew I looked good in the outfit Nina had helped me pick—new gray pants that showed off my assets and a yellow blouse, both from Ann Taylor—even if everyone else in the room was probably wearing labels I’d never heard of.
But what really had me rattled was the fact that I was sitting elbow-to-elbow with some of the most powerful people at Veritique, in a window-filled conference room that looked down on the skyscrapers around it.
We were so high up I swore I could see Pennsylvania on the horizon.
I was now in the big leagues.
I’d been rushed through the onboarding process so I could be a part of this strategy meeting. Apparently, Cameron not only wanted me to be a part of the team, he needed me.
It was nice to know I had a bit of power in the situation…
but it was scary, too. Cameron was putting a lot of faith in me.
Screwing up was not an option. The mood in the room was tense, with everyone frowning and talking in low voices.
We were all waiting for our fearless leader to get the meeting started.
Sandrine slid into the open seat next to me.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here,” she leaned over and whispered. “You’re a fresh voice with a really interesting take on our direction. With you here, we definitely won’t be making any more missteps like that #AskHer disaster.”
My stomach twisted at the responsibility of it. I was totally excited to rise to the challenge, but I would have liked at least a few days to settle into my new position. That wasn’t going to be an option.
“Wow, no pressure or anything,” I laughed awkwardly.
She was about to answer me when Cameron’s assistant Alessandra rushed into the conference room, which was clearly the harbinger of the grump to come, since everyone quickly made their way to their seats. The whispers stopped when he breezed in.
The vibe in the room shifted immediately, like a thunderstorm was brewing. Based on the straight backs and serious faces around me, we all felt it.
“Good morning,” Cameron glanced round the room at everyone before sitting down.
There were a few murmurs in response, but no one wanted to say anything loudly and risk drawing attention to themselves.
“Is everyone ready to brainstorm?” he asked, clapping his hands together once.
I finally glanced at his face and realized he was staring directly at me. My cheeks went hot, and I focused on the new tablet I’d been given while everyone around me mumbled more indistinguishable words that sounded vaguely like agreement.
“Before we get to it, I need to make sure we all show our newest employee some appreciation. Felicity Rhodes, will you stand up please?”
There were twenty people in the room, but it wasn’t like they didn’t know who I was. My face burned at being singled out first thing, but I rose to my feet waving both of my hands like a dork. I started to sink back into my chair after a few seconds.
“Hold on a sec,” Cameron said, pointing his finger up at me.
I froze in a half-squat, hovering above my chair.
“We’re all well aware that the #AskHer campaign was a nightmare,” he paused to glare at a guy I’d just met named Glen.
Judging from the way he shrank in his seat, that nightmare had been his idea.
“I want to make sure everyone knows it was Felicity who came to our rescue by suggesting the #BreaktheChain campaign in cooperation with the Her Refuge organization. We took some early hits because of the mistake, but Sandrine’s nearly immediate apology video coupled with the announcement of the partnership really turned things around.
So, let’s take a moment to thank Felicity for thinking on her feet even before she officially joined the team. ”
The round of applause felt genuine, and now my cheeks burned for a totally different reason. I’d hoped we’d at least discuss how my campaign was going during the meeting, but I was totally unprepared for being singled out for praise.
Especially by him.
Maybe my new boss wasn’t so bad after all?
If I could look past how freaking judgmental he was and the superiority complex that practically oozed out of him.
And how distractingly hot he was. How did he expect people to be able to concentrate when he was wandering around looking like that without even the decency to include a warning label?
Like today, with him sitting at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest?
With that face of his, all angular and model-y?
A part of me could imagine climbing up on the conference table, crawling the length of it down to him, then grabbing him by his navy blue tie and twisting it around my fist before slowly pulling him closer to me and—
“Felicity?” Cameron said, his expression hovering between amused and annoyed. “Are you still with us?”
I snapped my mouth shut, even more embarrassed that it had been hanging open without my awareness. “Yes, of course,” I answered quickly. I fiddled with my tablet, trying to turn it back on.
“So, what are your thoughts?” he pressed, narrowing his eyes at me.
Shit, shit, shit. What had he been talking about when I was drooling over him?
“The engagement ring campaign,” Sandrine whispered out of the corner of her mouth to me.
“The engagement ring campaign!” I echoed triumphantly, silently thanking my new best friend for the life preserver. “Yes, of course. I actually have a ton of thoughts.”
Everyone was staring at me, which made me feel a little shaky. Of course, I was totally prepared to contribute during the meeting, but I had no idea I was going to be in the hotseat to serve as the primary stormy brain for the damn thing.
“The floor is yours,” Cameron said smoothly.
I still couldn’t get to my notes on the new tablet, which made me look like I didn’t know how to work it—which I totally did, but I might’ve forgotten where I’d put them.
I had a full plan, but it wasn’t ready for general consumption quite yet, especially since I hadn’t priced it all out.
Again, I wasn’t expecting to have to present it within my first hours of starting.
Time to sink or swim.
“Okay,” I said. My palms were so sweaty I was afraid to put them on the table because I knew they’d leave streaks behind on the glossy surface. “Okay. So, I’m thinking we need some sort of outside influence to help bring more attention to Veritique.”
I saw Cameron frowning at me all the way down the mile-long table. Couldn’t he at least give me the benefit of the doubt before judging me?
“It’s not that we need help or anything,” I quickly clarified, “because Veritique is a powerhouse. But my idea is that we can double our exposure by partnering with an influencer who is in the business of love, who can amplify our message. People eat that sort of thing up, and it’s super scalable.”
“We don’t do partnerships,” Cameron scowled. “No model collabs, no capsule collections. We’re not about that sort of thing.”
I wasn’t surprised he immediately shot me down. I already knew Veritique considered themselves above the sorts of marketing alliances most companies worked into their budgets every year.
“And has that been working for you?” I asked simply.
A few people gasped. Clearly, I’d entered a minefield just by being a little bit sassy.
Okay, a lot bit. Whatever.
“Do you want to see our annual report?” Cameron glowered back at me. “Trust me, we’re doing just fine.”
“Not as well as we were before the fallout from the mine conditions crisis,” a man I’d met that morning named Jeffrey said quickly.
Cameron seemed to be ready to combust in his leather chair.
“Exactly,” I said, hoping to take some of the heat from Jeffrey, since he’d stuck up for me in a roundabout way. “Which is why a new approach might be a good thing.”
“Fine. Keep going,” Cameron said begrudgingly.
I dug deep and found a reserve of kickass I didn’t know I had. “I propose,” I laughed self-consciously at my little joke, “that we partner up with Lucy Dubois. Does everyone here know her?”
I looked around the table to find most heads nodding, because of course the marketing folks knew her.
The woman had built an influencer empire that almost rivaled the Kardashians, with product tie-ins that resulted in major gains for her partner brands.
She had a rabid following that did whatever she told them to.
Connecting with Lucy was an even bigger no-brainer partnership because she was known for her “forever-ever or never-ever” trend, where she could predict which celebrity couples were going to make it to the altar, and which were going to split up.
She was eerily good at it—no one else had a track record as strong as hers.
“Who the hell is Lucy Dubois?” Cameron asked in a frustrated voice, looking around the table and frowning like it was our fault he wasn’t up to date on pop culture.
“She’s an influencer,” Sandrine answered for me. “Or should I say, she’s the influencer when it comes to romance and relationships.”
The smartboard behind him shifted to an image of a smiling Lucy Dubois, then a slow scroll through her feed. Cameron turned to it and frowned at the screen. “It’s all Hollywood stuff.”
“Hollywood romance stuff,” I corrected. “Which works perfectly for us. So far none of her brand deals have explicitly tapped into that part of her influence—it’s mainly been makeup and clothing lines that she uses and wears.
But if we connect with her and get her to pair her wedding bell predictions with our rings?
Tons of eyeballs. And probably a ton of copycat purchases.
People want to act like celebrities, so if they can have a celeb-adjacent ring… ”
“Brilliant! I love it,” Sandrine said.
“Spell it out,” Cameron barked, staring only at me. “Give me a concrete example of what you mean.”