Chapter 2 #2
A young girl files in, and her eyes flit around nervously as she searches for a chair. I get up, gesturing towards mine. Given how old she looks, she’s probably an intern. She hesitates, and I wink at her. “Going once, going twice….”
She sits down, giving me a grateful look. “Thank you.”
“It’s okay. It’s my first day here. Consider it a rookie tax.”
Her cheeks flush.
“Now, aren’t you a gentleman… and a flirt.” Flora’s voice from beside me has me looking to my left.
I grin. “Can’t have a lady stand, now can I? Now, who’s that?” My eyes return to the woman with a scowl on her face.
“That’s Charlotte,” Flora whispers, nodding discreetly toward the blonde. “Used to head our division before she was demoted. Now she’s under Frank. She and Iris used to be friends. Then Iris got promoted, and Charlotte started icing her out. Don’t let her catch you looking. She bites.”
“Seems like everyone around here does,” I mutter, earning an amused look from Flora.
“My hamsters bite, too,” she offers cryptically, patting my arm before drifting away in a cloud of hamster-printed fabric.
I take a seat near the back, not wanting to draw attention to myself yet.
Eve strides to the front of the room with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how good she is.
She pulls up the presentation on the screen, a sleek black and chrome display featuring the Aerion 108 yacht cutting through dark waters.
A young blonde woman slips into the room, quietly passing Iris a tablet before taking a position by the door, her posture perfect as she observes the room with intelligent brown eyes.
Holly Pearson, Iris’s assistant. I’d seen her briefly earlier.
Couldn’t be more than twenty-three, but moves with the efficiency of someone who’s been managing executives for decades.
“Thank you all for coming,” Iris begins, her voice authoritative but warm as she glances at the tablet Holly just provided. “As you know, the Aerion 108 campaign launched last week, and we’re here to discuss initial feedback and metrics. Eve will take us through the data.”
Eve steps forward, and I’m immediately struck by the transformation. Gone is the hesitation I sometimes caught glimpses of in college when she’d present. This Eve owns the room. Her gestures are precise, her voice commanding without being aggressive, and her analysis razor-sharp.
“The initial social engagement is exceeding projections by twenty-seven percent,” she says, clicking to a slide with cleanly designed metrics. “Our targeted ads to tech entrepreneurs in Singapore and Dubai are performing particularly well. Conversion rates are double what we anticipated.”
“Those influencer partnerships you insisted on were worth every penny,” Frank interjects, his eyes lingering a beat too long on Eve.
“You really know how to pick the pretty ones.” A few uncomfortable titters ripple through the room.
I find myself sitting up straighter, something in his tone setting my teeth on edge.
Eve doesn’t miss a beat. “I pick influencers based on their engagement metrics and audience demographics, Frank. Their ability to make yacht purchases look aspirational to billionaires has nothing to do with how they photograph in a bikini.” Her smile is glacial.
“Unlike some departments, we don’t confuse eye candy with strategy. ”
My jaw goes flat, but I keep my mouth shut. Frank’s smirk falters, and Veronica doesn’t bother hiding her cackle of appreciation.
“Moving on,” Eve continues smoothly. “Steven, can you walk us through the digital campaign performance?”
I watch as she navigates the room, fielding questions with confidence, shutting down potential objections before they can fully form.
She’s not just good—she’s masterful. This isn’t the obsessive student who would bulldoze group projects.
This is a professional who’s learned how to get her way while making others feel heard.
When it’s time for my introduction, Iris calls me to the front.
“This is Caleb Reynolds,” she announces. “He’s joining the Branding and Strategy team and will be working closely with Eve on the Serastra 70 relaunch.”
I give a brief wave. “Looking forward to working with everyone.”
Charlotte stiffens. “Another new hire? I thought budgets were tight.”
“Talent is always worth investing in,” Iris replies smoothly. “Caleb comes highly recommended.” I can see Eve practically biting her tongue to keep from commenting.
The rest of the presentation flows efficiently, and I find myself impressed despite my determination not to be.
The Aerion campaign is sleek, modern, and perfectly targeted.
When they show footage of the national launch event, the yacht gleaming against a sunset backdrop as wealthy attendees sip champagne and nod appreciatively, I understand why the company has managed to stay afloat despite management turmoil.
“Any questions before we wrap up?” Iris asks.
Frank leans forward. “Just an observation. The men’s response to the campaign has been significantly stronger than women’s. Perhaps for the Serastra, we could consider a more... feminine touch? Eve, with your obvious assets, maybe you could—”
“My ‘assets’ include a master’s degree and the highest conversion rate in the company, Frank,” Eve cuts in with a thin smile. “Focus on those, or I focus on drafting an HR complaint. Your choice.”
The room falls silent. Frank’s face goes through several interesting color changes before settling on a sickly shade of embarrassment.
“Well!” Iris claps her hands together. “I think that’s all for today. Thank you, everyone.”
As people file out, I catch Charlotte staring at Eve with cold calculation. There’s history there, something beyond professional rivalry.
I hang back until the room clears, leaving just Eve gathering her materials.
“Not bad, Lopez,” I say, leaning against the conference table. “You handled Frank like a pro.”
She doesn’t look up as she gathers her tablet and notes. “I’ve had three years of practice dealing with entitled men who think my brain is located in my chest.”
“And here I always thought it was in your ass, considering how uptight you were in college.”
That gets her attention. She straightens, fixing me with a glare that could wither cacti. “Tour. Now. Then I can get back to actual work instead of babysitting the boss’s little brother.”
“Lead the way, Ice Princess.”
She stalks past me, the scent of her perfume lingering in her wake like a reminder that I’m in way over my head, and I follow her down the corridor, taking in the modern design of the building.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offer stunning views of the city, the kind of backdrop that would make any yacht buyer feel like they’re already living the lifestyle the company is selling.
“Digital and Content is over there,” she says, gesturing dismissively to the right as we exit the conference room. “They handle the website, social media, and all digital marketing. Veronica runs a tight ship.”
“She looks like she eats interns for breakfast.”
Eve almost smiles. Almost. The corner of her mouth twitches in a way that makes me want to see what a real smile from her looks like these days. “Only the ones who use Comic Sans in their presentations. Last week she made a new guy cry because he used a stock photo with the watermark still on it.”
We continue down the hallway, passing various departments. Eve points out key facilities, her tone clipped and professional. She’s giving me the standard tour, nothing more, nothing less.
“And that’s the break room,” she says, indicating a sleek space with a fancy coffee machine and comfortable seating. “Wellness Wednesdays are mandatory. Gary from Accounting brings his homemade kombucha and everyone pretends it doesn’t taste like fermented sock water.”
“Sounds delightful.”
“It’s a bonding experience. Nothing unites a company like collective suffering.”
I chuckle despite myself, and she shoots me a look that suggests I’m not allowed to find her amusing.
As we pass by Iris’s office, I notice her inside engaged in what appears to be a heated discussion with a tall, well-dressed man.
He’s leaning over her desk, his body language aggressive.
Iris looks upset, her usual composure fractured.
As we watch, the man throws up his hands and storms out, brushing past us without acknowledgment.
“Who was that?” I ask Eve.
She presses her lips together. “Richard. Iris’s fiancé.”
Before she can elaborate, I notice a familiar young blonde woman with a sweet smile efficiently organizing papers at a nearby desk. She looks up, offering a polite nod.
“That’s Holly Pearson,” Eve explains, following my gaze. “Iris’s assistant. Don’t let the innocent look fool you. She runs this place with an iron fist in a velvet glove. Nothing happens in Marketing that Holly doesn’t know about.” Holly blushes slightly at the description but doesn’t deny it.
Before we can continue, Flora appears beside us, her hamster-printed caftan fluttering around her.
“Oh, dear,” she sighs, looking after the retreating man.
“Poor Iris. Richard’s been after that head of finance position for months.
The last one didn’t work out—just got fired last week.
Richard thought he was a shoe-in, but Ethan wants someone with more experience.
” She lowers her voice. “Richard thinks Iris isn’t pushing hard enough for him. ”
Eve’s expression hardens. “She shouldn’t have to. He’s not qualified.”
Flora pats Eve’s arm. “Not everyone has your fire, dear. Some people need a little boost.” She turns to me with a conspiratorial smile.
“Flora,” Eve warns.
“Just making conversation,” Flora replies innocently. “Come now, we should get back. Joshua texted. He’s bringing lunch for everyone. Well, he’s bringing lunch for himself, but he bought enough for an army.”