Chapter 5 #2
“Done giving me the hard sell?” She asked.
“Sorry,” he apologised quickly. He’d let his passion and enthusiasm take over him, and he’d forgotten that he wasn’t in the boardroom anymore, giving pitches to potential clients. She needed a more delicate touch.
“Let me show you something,” Breht led her back to the bench and picked up the portfolio case. This was it. Everything he’d tried to explain to her rested on what lay in the case. He unzipped the folio and opened it, passing it over to her to look through.
“If this is me overstepping boundaries, tell me?” He asked.
Nibbling at the inside of his cheek. He took hold of his coffee cup as she opened the case, staring into the dark brown liquid to avoid seeing her honest reaction to what he had just presented.
If she didn’t like what was within the portfolio, it would be the end of his pitch.
His eyes flittered up towards her, and his palms felt so sweaty he had to let go of his coffee.
Frankly, his heart was on the line as much as their business agreement.
The tips of his tapered ears twitched to her small intake of breath.
A gasp. He dared hope. Which bloomed when he saw her awe-inspired reaction.
“These are incredible. Where did you get them?” Her words came over him, and he wasn’t sure how to answer.
It felt arrogant to say that he’d been awake throughout the night, drawing and painting on the folio paper.
It wasn’t something that had been encouraged throughout his corporate life; arts and crafts were for other people, not successful business orcs.
So, he gave a meek, noncommittal shrug. When he went to speak, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket before it started ringing.
“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology, staring at the screen.
Her name was written in bold letters, surrounded by a background of floating hearts - a feeling that was misplaced.
He hadn’t put them there. The song rang on, strange tones coming from his phone that was archaic and sounded tinny through the smartphone's speakers. He didn’t recognise the ringtone as his own; Rosani must have got hold of his phone and changed it in an attempt to be romantic.
She’d been wrong; he wouldn’t always love her.
“Do you need to get that?” Brierley inquired, interrupting his reverie.
“No,” he said, diverting the call once again, irritated that he wasn’t just being left alone to do his work.
“Did you design these?” She asked, turning the page and looking at each of the jewellery designs in turn.
There was a soft tenderness to the hand that had illustrated the items before her.
And she was amazed that such a broad, strong-looking orc like Breht could have designed them.
She kept looking between him and the papers they’d been drawn on.
“Yes,” he confessed quietly. “I don’t know how viable they’d be to make, but…
” he tried to cover up his tracks. Never before had he opened up to a soul about his imaginative artistry, and as he looked at the looping swirls that some of the designs consisted of, he felt embarrassed.
Vulnerable under her rapt awe. It was clear that she was impressed with what he’d come up with.
Unexpected, he supposed from such a brute!
Consternation gripped him tight in its clutches, despite her wonderfully positive reaction.
“These look incredible,” Brierley said, and she was once again interrupted by the sounds of his phone ringing.
He noticed the vexation in her brow as he cancelled the interruption once again.
“They are really determined to talk to you,” Brierley observed.
“Yeah, again, sorry,” he said, turning the phone over in his hands.
“You know what, I’ll just turn it off,” he said, bringing the screen back to life and powering it down.
Relieved they’d have no more interruptions, he should have done so in the first place.
“As I said, I don’t want to be stepping on your toes with these designs; yours are great too, but if we want to tap into the bespoke market, each of the pieces needs to be completely unique.
Making them out of silver rather than white metal adds an expense that the market will be expecting. ”
As he turned the page, he became aware of the closeness between them.
The warmth of her body pressed up against him as he turned the portfolio page.
She felt comfortable, relaxed even, as she snuggled against him.
“Some of them are a little off-colour, but we can change them to fit the Paua,” he explained.
“You keep saying upmarket, but I don’t think I want to change the friendly atmosphere of the store,” she said, her eyes never leaving the collection of drawings.
“You won’t have to; the shop is already light and airy, and your product placement knowledge is really good,” he complimented.
“Well, Tori is the one who does that,” she explained.
“Is she the woman who was making obscene gestures behind my back?” He asked.
Brierley coughed as the words fell on her. Mortified that Tori had been caught red-handed, and that she’d agreed with her friend’s dirty sense of humour.
"You have a very big mirror in your store, Brierley," he informed her.
He'd seen everything, and it had been extremely difficult not to turn around and shout at her for her lack of professionalism.
"So, while I understand friendly and familiar, maybe not too familiar?
" He suggested. It was invaluable to have a laugh in the workplace, but not at the expense of potential customers; having said that, he wasn't entirely opposed to the reaction of having been caught out.
The way her cheeks were flushing bright red was adorable. His brow twitched.
“I am so sorry,” he heard her apologise.
“Don’t sweat it.” His rumbling voice growled, getting his thoughts back into the realm of business. “If I get you some silver wire, would you be willing to try some of these designs out?”
“I’d be honoured,” she said, leafing through the pages once again. There were some she liked more than others. Her leaning was towards the more exotic designs, ones that involved looping, intricate swirls of silver. It was then that she asked, “When you say ‘upmarket’, how upmarket do you mean?”
“If you mean price,” he ventured, wondering when this would come up. “I figure for some of the simpler designs,” he flicked back a few pages to point to some of the basic shapes, “Starting from around seventy to a couple of hundred, and then the more complicated ones for more than that.”
Her eyes widened, “You’re not serious?” She asked.
“It’s basic psychology, people always want what they can’t have,” he said, looking pointedly at her.
“If you underprice, you’re saying your creations aren’t worth much.
You tack a high price on it, and suddenly everyone wants a piece of it.
Customers will believe that what you’re selling is worth it and more, which it is.
It’s all about believing in what you’re selling and making others think it has that same value.
And, I promise you, people will pay for it. ”
She turned the page of the portfolio again, her eyes widening at one particular design that she couldn’t wait to try!
She pointed at it to tell him, looking towards him.
He was looking down, not at the designs, the softness of his gaze was entirely on her.
The serene smile on his face didn’t quite hit his eyes, and she suddenly became aware of the closeness between them.
She latched onto his words, ‘People always want what they can’t have.
’ She was suddenly applying that sentiment to him, too.
She had told Tori, less than twenty-four hours ago, that she was only interested in building her business, and here was a wonderfully creative, corporate orc to help her do just that.
So why did she want to boldly grab the length of his beard between her fingers and pull him down to kiss her?
Breht cleared his throat and looked away. Breaking the illusion. He raised a brow towards her, and she looked away, back at the pages. “May I keep these?”
“They’re yours,” he informed her, standing, reluctantly putting some distance between them. “There’s just one other thing.”
“What’s that?” She asked after closing the portfolio and carefully zipping it up. Holding the portfolio across her chest, protecting it from harm. She couldn’t believe that the orc was willing to give a part of his soul to her as carefree as he had done.