Chapter Five Gemma
Chapter Five
Gemma
The pitch flies by in a blur. I utter a silent prayer as soon as the meeting finishes, and I can’t escape fast enough. I burst through the double doors equal parts flustered and humiliated.
Louise couldn’t take her eyes off Max or Grayson. If she wasn’t staring daggers at me, she was drooling like a Saint Bernard. And what’s worse? Max couldn’t take his eyes off me—though my exposed cleavage may have had something to do with that.
Poor Grayson pasted on a brave face, nursing his assaulted eye throughout the entire pitch, and Max…
Christ, his gaze was lethal. Like I was facing a firing squad.
He tracked my every move, and despite the mortification, despite everything that went wrong, I was hyperaware of him in ways that had nothing to do with my embarrassment.
I’m not usually ruffled around men. But Max has me nervous—me! This never happens. I need to find a way to ignore my physical attraction to Max and go into this with a purely professional lens, and the reasons are crystal clear…
First, I’m working on this campaign with him, and mixing business with pleasure only ever ends in tears and HR paperwork.
Second, he’s Anna’s brother. She’d kill me. Not metaphorically—actually kill me.
And let’s not forget the most important part: Max Browne is a bit of a tosser.
Ugh. I can picture his smug, infuriatingly self-assured face right now.
At least Henry was up there with me. Nevertheless, I slapped on my best I’ve got my shit together face and did what I do best. My job. Well, sex—but still, my job.
I yank my phone from my pocket, thumbs attacking the cracked screen as I shoot off a message to Anna.
Me: WTF?! You failed to mention your brother is the chief development officer working with Grayson-Bloody-Livingstone on the Gray Hotel campaign!
Her response is instant.
Anna: Oh, is he? Good for him. I never actually bothered to ask what his role is. Or maybe he told me and I forgot…
Me: Obviously.
Anna: … I fail to see the problem.
Me: The problem is, I forgot how ridiculously gorgeous he is. And I just made a total arse of myself in front of him.
Anna: Well, keep forgetting. I swear to God, Gemma, do NOT hit on my brother.
I huff in frustration, exiting the chat.
Henry grips my biceps and practically marches me to his office.
I collapse into the armchair opposite his desk while he rocks back and forth in his computer chair like Dr. Evil, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
The moment I open my mouth to speak, his eyebrow arches, silencing me instantly.
We sit, wordless, for what feels like forever.
“So,” Henry says.
“Hmmm.”
“What in the fresh hell was that?” He leans forward, hands splayed on his desk.
“Am I fired?”
He expels a heavy breath. “No. You aren’t fired.”
“Is the CEO going to kill me?”
“No, he isn’t going to kill you. But I might.”
“How was I supposed to know my button was going to pop open?”
He rubs his temples, frustrated.
“I didn’t mean to, Henry. It’s not my fault I have improbably large breasts.”
“You presented your pitch with your lacy bra showing.”
“What choice did I have? Besides, no one else seemed troubled by it. What happened to empowering women in the workforce? I know you’re not bothered by a bra. You’re a modern man, Henry.”
“I’m gay.”
“Semantics.” I cross my legs. “At least the pitch went well?”
“You’re lucky Grayson even bloody saw the projector!”
I wave my hand dismissively. “He’ll be fine.”
I hope.
“He’s a BILLIONAIRE, Gemma!” Henry bellows.
I wince. “He could just buy a new eye?”
“Very funny,” he deadpans.
I shrug. “Look, he said he was fine. We got the pitch out of the way. They seemed to be impressed. I’m sure they’ve both forgotten about the whole button incident by now.”
He grunts. “Max Browne had to lead him out by the hand. Do you know what that does to a man’s ego?”
“I’m sorry, Henry.” I don’t know what else to say.
He looks at me earnestly. “I know you are.”
“Would you like me to go talk to him? See if he’s okay?”
“No. That won’t be necessary. Go and have a break. I’ll talk to Grayson in the meantime and attempt damage control.”
I rise, smoothing a hand down my skirt with trembling fingers. The lump in my throat betrays me. Despite my calm exterior, I’m terrified. Our pitch was brilliant—exceptional, even—but I could have blown this entire campaign. I looked a total mess. Who would want to work with someone after that?
Henry must see through my bravado because his expression softens as I reach for the door handle.
“Gemma,” he says, stopping me.
I peer over my shoulder.
“Despite the button—and your overall state—you did a brilliant job. Well done. I hope you’re proud.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back. I swing the door open, about to leave when—
“Oh, and Gemma?”
“Yeah?” I turn to face him.
He points to his cheekbone. “Take care of that, please.”
Confused, I touch my cheek before heading to the bathroom. Once inside, I inspect my reflection.
Because this day couldn’t possibly get any worse, there’s a perfect line of blood across my cheekbone.
“Oh, you’re bloody joking.”