Chapter 22 Brielle
Brielle
Ugh. My head pounds behind my eyes. Even my third cup of coffee isn’t doing anything to dim the throbbing ache.
If anything, it’s making things worse because now my belly feels sloshy and bloated, too.
Maybe because I haven’t eaten anything today.
Wait, did I have dinner last night? When was the last time I ate?
“Bri, thoughts?” Danielle asks.
I have no idea what she and Trent were discussing, and I look up at the large TV mounted on the wall where Danielle is sharing her screen.
A picture of a father with two young boys decked out in fishing gear fills the screen, and a generic ad copy that reads “Make memories together” overlays the image.
If it weren’t for the Cardinal West Outdoors logo, I would have thought it was pulled from a stock photo site exactly as is.
“Are you alright? You seem off,” Trent says, pulling my attention away from the TV.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a headache,” I tell him, adding a quick smile to show him I’m good.
I know it’s because I haven’t been sleeping lately.
There’s no time to sleep when I spend my workdays bouncing between two offices and my evenings catching up on everything I missed while I was busy getting the other job done.
Both teams are relying on me to pull my weight as a full-time member, and I don’t want to let either of them down.
And of course, the not-so-little issue of my mind conjuring up deliciously dirty images every time I close my eyes, that have me frustratingly horny with no means of satisfaction, isn’t helping matters. Even my vibrator isn’t getting the job done as thoroughly as it did before.
Nope. It seems like the man that stars in every one of these fantasies has a chokehold on my orgasms.
It’s a cruel, cruel joke.
And as I’ve learned over the past few weeks, you don’t need to speak the devil’s name out loud for him to appear. Just thinking about him seems to conjure him up for the depth of my imagination.
Sinfully sexy, the man who’s been plaguing my mind steps into the marketing office to ask for his daily report-out.
A plain white dress shirt is tucked into his black suit pants, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, leaving his forearms on display.
For the first time since I’ve been working here, he’s foregone the suit jacket, giving him a more casual look.
Both Trent and Danielle have told me that he has never been as invested in the initial planning process as he has with the Cardinal West account.
Just like Rui has mentioned that Mr. Edgerton seems overly concerned with our accounting entries.
I think he’s making everyone nervous that there’s something going on financially with CreativEdge.
But I know the truth. I can see it in his eyes when he sweeps them over the room, landing a little too long on me.
And the fact that only two very specific teams seem to be getting this undue attention from him. My teams.
I’m about to pull my eyes away from him before I get caught staring when a dark bruise on his arm catches my attention.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
I pop out of my seat to get to him, taking his arm in my hand to get a better look at the injury.
“Got it caught in a door. I’ll be fine,” he says. He doesn’t pull his arm away, but I can hear the faint amusement in his voice. My pulse beats faster as I look up into his dark brown eyes, a subtle smirk shining, his brow raised in an unsaid question.
Touching him was probably a mistake. My thumb swipes across his skin anyway, soothing the spot with a soft caress. It takes me a second to process that we are not in this room alone. That we are not Damian and Brielle, but rather Mr. Edgerton and his employee.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I drop his arm like it’s poisonous and step back from him.
“I appreciate your concern, Brielle.” He grins.
I shoot him a look to drop it before we make things worse and retake my seat. My face must be an ungodly color right now. I wave my hand like a fan, trying to cool my heated cheeks. Luckily, he takes the hint, moving the conversation on to why he’s here.
“Is this your newest draft for the Cardinal West marketing plan?”
“Yes, sir. Taking your, um, advice into consideration, we’ve developed an ad copy to showcase the family and generational benefits,” Trent explains.
It was very clearly not “advice” that Damian gave us. It was a command, plain and simple. Strangely, it doesn’t send a shiver down my spine when he uses that tone at work. It doesn’t have the same edge to it, the same dark promises that it does in the bedroom.
Damian reviews the image and text overlay for a moment, his face masking what he really thinks about it.
“Brielle, did you provide your input in the development of the ad?”
I didn’t. This was the first time I had seen the ad myself.
We talked about it yesterday after Damian left.
I offered some suggestions as to what I thought Damian might be looking for, without telling them that I knew exactly what Damian was looking for because I was the one who came up with the idea while we were spending a weekend together pretending to be a couple madly in love.
But then I transitioned to accounting tasks in the afternoon and spent my evening doing video edits for a different piece of content for the campaign.
“We discussed it yesterday, and I provided some suggestions, but this is the first time I’m seeing it come together,” I answer as honestly as I can without throwing my team under the bus.
Because truthfully, they didn’t take a single suggestion of mine and incorporate it into the ad.
I understand that working in a team means that compromises will have to be made, and some decisions won’t go my way, but this ad just feels soulless and cheap.
“Which of your suggestions made it into the ad? Point them out to me.” He crosses his arms, his forearms flexing.
Trent’s eyes bounce between us, and he can tell that Damian is pissed. The room holds an awkward stillness until Trent rushes to my defense.
“The father and son was all Brielle’s idea. And the fishing. We discussed which of the Vitales’ activity packages would be best suited for this specific ad, and Brielle was the one who recommended we focus on fishing.”
“Is that right?” Damian asks.
Trent subtly nods his head at me, trying to tell me to agree that my input was incorporated into the design. He means well. I know he does. He doesn’t want Damian to think that I’m not contributing to the team, and I appreciate that.
But I’d also rather not have my name associated with this.
“Um…” I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, not knowing whether I should distance myself from the ad that I know Damian hates—and I honestly had no part of creating—or agree with Trent and take the hit that we all created this mess together.
He doesn’t give me any more time to figure out how I should navigate this.
“That’s what I thought,” he says. He glares at Trent.
“Go back to the drawing board. Give me something with depth and substance by end of day tomorrow. Brielle will take the lead. And for the love of God, trash that abomination.”
He turns on his heel and strides away.
“Small setback, but we are not going to let him get us down,” Danielle says with her finger waving, adding a little too loudly, “Not today, Satan.”
“Yes, today,” Damian shouts from down the hallway.
Danielle slaps her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.
“Technically, he gave us until tomorrow,” I lean in and whisper quietly, causing Trent and Danielle to both chuckle.
“Well, boss, where do you want us to start?” Trent asks, looking to me to take the lead.
I swivel my head to both of them. I didn’t sign up to manage a team, especially not one where everyone has more experience and knowledge than me.
“I know he said that he wanted me to take the lead, but really, it’s fine.
We can just work on it together,” I start.
Trent and Danielle have been super cool to work with, even when they didn’t take my ideas into consideration.
It doesn’t feel malicious, just unfortunate.
“Brielle, we have no idea what he’s looking for,” Danielle says quietly.
“If we did, he wouldn’t have stormed out in a rage.
He is clearly looking for something specific, and I, personally, would rather we get there than have another round of that.
” She points her finger down the hall in the direction Damian went.
“I agree. We need to get it done, and you seem like you have a vision for it. Let’s hope it satisfies his appetite, but it’s worth a shot in my books,” Trent adds.
I was only supposed to be working with the marketing team until lunchtime before I moved back into the accounting role.
With end of month just around the corner, there are a lot of things that need to get posted and coded to the right projects.
Beside the regular end-of-month reporting, it is also the end of the first quarter of the year.
I haven’t gone through a quarter-close yet, and I was hoping to grab some time with Rui to make sure I had everything Damian and the board would need.
Trent and Danielle both look at me expectantly.
I mentally rearrange my plan for the day, and night, to prioritize this while I smile back at them.
“Sure, okay, let’s start with getting a new image.”
I text Rui on our company instant messenger to let him know I am going to be tied up for the rest of the day.
Rui: Thanks for the heads up. I guess we can go over the closing tasks tomorrow.
Me: Thanks Rui. I’m sorry. I’ll finish up this week’s entries before tomorrow morning.
Rui: No problem. Can you just do a quick double-check when you’re done? I noticed you had transposed some numbers in yesterday’s entries. Nothing big. Erica actually caught it, and we got it fixed. Just try to be more careful.