Chapter 10
Damian
I hate these networking dinners almost as much as I hate being set up on a date by my mother.
And yet, here I am, doing both of those things.
I step out of my office and almost barrel into a little dark-haired bumblebee.
“Oh, are you leaving already?” Brielle asks. She’s wearing a bright yellow sweater with black stripes on it. On anyone else, it would look ridiculous, but she manages to make it work. My gaze snags on her full, wide lips. The lips that I very nearly made the mistake of tasting the other night.
The question of whether she would have let me has kept me up the past few nights. Partly because I’m pretty damn sure the answer is yes. And partly because that doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should.
Kissing an employee is a recipe for disaster, so why do I find myself replaying that night with distinctly alternate endings?
“Yes. I have a networking dinner. Is this important?” I almost want her to say yes just so I have a reason to stall.
After I dropped her off on Friday, we didn’t speak again for the rest of the weekend.
I debated about reaching out, but I didn’t trust my motives.
A little distance was probably for the best. Besides, I didn’t want to commandeer her personal time, especially since that will be exactly what I do next weekend.
Louisa glances up from her desk in front of my door.
“No. It’s fine. I just wanted to let you know that I pulled last year’s financial numbers by account like you requested. I also included the last three years’ history, if it was available, and provided trend graphs and analytics. It’s in your email.”
“Thank you, Brielle. I’ll look at it in the morning.”
She nods and walks back down the hallway toward her office. When I turn back, I catch Louisa’s eye, a stunned expression on her face.
“What?” I gripe.
“Did you just explain yourself to the new girl?” she asks.
“Brielle. And no. I don’t explain myself to anyone. I simply told her that I was leaving.”
“You told her where you were going,” she counters. That’s true. “And you thanked her.”
I level a hard look at Louisa, not that she is in any way affected by it despite my best efforts. “I would thank you more often, too, if you spent more time working and less time talking.”
Louisa just laughs, which is fair. She’s the best damn assistant I’ve hired. I would be lost without her, and she knows that.
I stop by my apartment first. After a quick shower, I don my blackest suit, black dress shirt, and insanely expensive black shoes for this farce of an event.
The drive into Cambridge takes longer than it should.
The traffic in this city is out of control, and it’s making my bad mood at having to attend this stupid dinner even worse.
I was feeling fine about this event earlier today.
These networking dinners are never high on my list of things to do, but they’re important for making connections and hearing what the competition has been up to.
Maybe it’s because I have to bring Sasha Tilman with me that has me sinking into a sullen mood.
Sasha’s mother and my mother are recent friends, which in my mother’s eyes means that her daughter is my newest prospect.
Despite my parents getting along fairly well for a divorced couple, the one thing they have never been able to agree on is my love life.
Where my father would prefer I stay away from any sort of commitment that could sabotage my business down the road, my mother wants to see me married with a brood of mini Damians running around.
After seeing what he went through, I’m in favor of my father’s viewpoint on this one.
I pull up in front of Sasha’s stately home and knock on the door.
She opens it, wearing a long, off-white dress that hugs her curves.
She has to be at least six feet tall in those heels.
My first thought is one of respect. She doesn’t have any insecurities about towering over the men in the room, and I like that.
Well, technically, my first thought is that she would dwarf Brielle, but there is no reason for Brielle to be on my mind, so I shut down that line of thought immediately.
“Sasha, I’m Damian,” I say, introducing myself to my date. Her white teeth shine against her tan skin, and her blonde hair is probably dyed, but it suits her. She’s certainly attractive, like my mother insisted.
“Hi, Damian. I’m ready if you are.” She smiles.
“It’ll be an evening of industry gossip and inane small talk. Not exactly a riveting night,” I warn her. It must come across harsher than I meant. Her face pinches, but she recovers quickly. A lot of what I say comes across harsher than I mean it to. She was going to figure that out soon enough.
“A Mercedes-Maybach, nice.” She grins. “Is it the S-Class? With the biturbo engine?”
My brow wants to rise, but I keep my face neutral. She clearly knows something about cars. Or at least luxury status-symbol cars.
“It is.”
She’s in the car with the door closed before I have a chance to open it for her.
The ride back into the city is tortuously slow, but Sasha is pleasant company.
The conversation isn’t stilted, but she also isn’t filling every second with chatter and annoying questions.
My mother did good with this pick—I have to give her credit for that.
Not that I plan to let this go anywhere. I never do.
I pull up to the center where the function is being held, and a valet politely opens the door for Sasha while I get out. He takes my car while we start into the building.
“So, is there anything I should know about these things before we go in?” she asks.
“Not really.”
“A man of many words, I see,” she laughs.
I let the comment go without elaborating any further. She’ll see for herself in a few minutes. There isn’t really anything for me to tell her.
They’re already into happy hour by the time we arrive.
The ballroom is filled with people in suits and dresses, talking and mingling with each other.
It’s a networking event, but this industry is small, and networking opportunities are few and far between.
I know all of these people as well as I’m ever going to.
“Are you interested in a drink?” I ask Sasha.
“Sure.”
We push our way through the throng of people to get to the bar. I gesture for Sasha to place her order first.
“A martini, extra olives, please.”
“And a bourbon, straight,” I add.
After we get our drinks, I lead Sasha to an area that isn’t as crowded. I glance around, taking in the turnout for this, when I spot Walter Burke. Before I have a chance to lead Sasha further away, he starts to make his way toward me.
“Damian, boy, how are you?” he asks and then turns to Sasha. “Hello there, I’m Walt.”
“Mr. Burke,” I greet through gritted teeth. “This is Sasha Tilman.” My father’s ex-business partner smiles a slimy, toothy grin at my date.
“Nice to meet you,” Sasha says pleasantly.
“I hear that you’ve been chasing after Leon Vitale,” he laughs.
It would be a lie to claim that Walt’s interest in Cardinal West’s account wasn’t in some way a motivating factor.
Any chance I have to see Walter Burke cut down at the knees, I will gleefully accept.
But Cardinal West Outdoors has a good business model, a solid reputation, and potential for exceptional growth.
I want the Vitales’ account because it will be a good fit for CreativEdge more than anything.
Taking the win from Walt is just a very nice bonus.
That’s business. A cutthroat climb to the top.
I would never consider undercutting my clients or giving them substandard service at top-tier prices, but my competitors?
They chose this industry, and they need to keep their game strong enough to appeal to their clients and maintain continued business, or it’s their own fault if they find another provider who can give them the service and quality they need.
“We’ve had a few conversations,” I tell him.
He gives me that look that he thinks says I’m wasting my time. A condescending smile splits his face, but nerves are making his eyes too tight, his laugh a couple of octaves too high.
“You can spend your time going down that road, but I’ve known Leon a long time. I know what he values, and frankly, Damian, I don’t think you have it.”
My eyes flash with the challenge. The insult doesn’t bother me. My skin is far too thick for that, but if he thinks I can’t convince the Vitales that I’m someone they want to do business with, he is sorely mistaken.
I open my mouth to respond when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder behind me.
“Damian, Walt, lovely young lady,” my father says to the group of us.
“Dad, I didn’t expect you to be here. This is Sasha,” I introduce. Protectiveness surges, seeing my father in the presence of the ex-business partner who betrayed him. My father has more dignity and class than that man will ever know.
“Hello, Mr. Edgerton. Pleasure to meet you.” Sasha reaches out to shake his hand, a gesture she didn’t extend to Walt, I note.
“Mark, what brings you here today? I thought you’ve been out of the business for years.
Don’t tell me you’re thinking about jumping back into things.
” Walt tries to make it sound like a joke, but there is a growing look of fear in his eyes.
I smile. “You’ll have some hard competition on your hands trying to compete with this one,” he laughs, gesturing to me.
“No. I would never. Damian would wipe the floor with me. He’s far too business-savvy. A lot like me when I was his age, but he’s smart enough to avoid the same pitfalls.”
Walt bristles at the comment.
I don’t know how my father does it. Showing up to these dinner and industry events when he knows that his ex-wife’s fuck buddy is going to be here.
But he’d been part of the industry for so long, these dinners are a social function for him.
He doesn’t let Walt take that away, and I respect him for that.