Chapter 3 #3
“Is that praise I hear, Lopez?” Caleb blinks, pretending to look shocked.
I purse my lips together, knowing I might say something nasty in response if I don’t. “Don’t let it go to your head. It’s competent work, not a miracle.”
“So it is good.” The man seems intent on having me blow a fuse today.
“I said it’s fine, not the divine word of god,” I snap. “Stop hovering over my shoulder.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says lightly, sliding his chair back to his own desk.
“Joshua, I’m sending you the file.” I look towards the man sitting to my left. “Add it to the cloud drive, and send it to Iris. Where are we on the finalized campaign?”
“We’re going with both your ideas.” Iris’s voice is crisp as she enters.
“I liked your proposal of hosting the event on the yacht, Caleb, but I agree with Eve’s ideas about the tagline.
” She sets down her bag on Caleb’s desk, which is closest to her.
“‘Where Tradition Meets Tomorrow.’ I like the colors of dark wood and gold. Excellent choice, Eve.”
It’s hard not to turn around and stick my tongue out at Caleb who had shat over this idea just a few days ago. Suck on that, Wilder!
Flora and Steven have just come in when Iris drops another bombshell. “Which is why I want the two of you to head the Serastra 70 relaunch. Flora, Joshua, and Steven will support you on this, but I need them to focus on the feedback of the Aerion 108 national launch and its international launch.”
My stomach falls. “You want me and Caleb to lead the campaign? Together? Are you sure that’s wise?”
“That’s what I said.” Iris nods.
“B-but, he’s new!” I protest. “He literally joined, like, yesterday! He probably doesn’t even know where the bathroom is yet!”
“Sure, I do,” Caleb interjects with that infuriating smile of his. “You showed it to me, remember?”
“He has experience, Eve,” Iris says calmly. “And he’s presented some excellent ideas. The two of you combined will be a much stronger team.”
“But—”
Iris stares at me. “Are you questioning my decision?”
I open my mouth to say yes, but the glint in her eyes has me crossing my arms over my chest and muttering, “No. Of course not.”
“Good.” Her eyes swivel towards Flora and Steven. “I want you two to work alongside Frank’s team. The results are coming in for the campaign. I’ve already talked to Frank. He’s going to share all the data with you. It’s going to be coming live, so keep tracking the progress.”
“What about me?” Joshua points to himself.
“You’ll be with Veronica. I was going to have Steven work with her division, but you often work late, and that’s ideal for the digital campaigns. Veronica asked for you specifically.”
Joshua shrugs. “Everyone wants a piece of me.”
I roll my eyes at him. “If you thought I was bad, Veronica’s going to eat you for breakfast and use your bones as coffee stirrers.”
“She’s a kid,” Joshua looks amused. “I’m so scared.”
Flora glances at me, and I just stare at the ceiling. “Your funeral, Joshua. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when she makes you cry.”
“Eve is right.” Iris picks up her bag, her eyes on Joshua. “She’s good at her job, and she expects excellence from everyone else as well. There’s a reason why I appointed her to head the division. You all have your tasks. We cannot mess up these two launches so get a grip.”
My jaw tenses at her words, and I see the shadow that falls on everybody’s faces.
We all worked our asses off for the Serasta 70 campaign.
Sleepless nights, working around the clock without a break.
Steven didn’t even go home to see his kids for three days.
I would hear him talking to them on the phone, and he sounded miserable.
Everybody knows how much he loves his family.
To have all that effort go down the drain still haunts us.
No way was it someone from our team. Not when we were the ones who poured our blood and sweat into this.
As Iris walks away, and everyone hustles to get the day started, Caleb leans towards me. “So you and me, huh?”
I let out a gust of air, trying to remind myself that I like my job, and I’m too pretty for prison orange.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I mutter, pulling up the Serastra files on my screen. “This is strictly professional. You stay on your side of the project, I’ll stay on mine, and we’ll pretend to tolerate each other for the sake of our careers.”
“That’s not how partnerships work, Princess.”
“Stop calling me that.” I start organizing my files, deliberately not looking at him. “And partnerships require mutual respect, which we clearly don’t have. What we have is a mutually beneficial arrangement, which hopefully ends soon.”
The next hour passes in tense silence. I focus on updating the campaign timeline while Caleb works on his laptop, occasionally making notes on a legal pad. When Steven announces he’s going for a coffee run, I jump at the chance to get away from Caleb’s distracting presence.
“Large cappuccino, extra shot,” I tell Steven, grabbing my wallet.
“I’ll come with you,” Joshua says, stretching. “I need to call that reservation place about Le Fount anyway.”
Flora decides to join us, muttering something about needing fresh air after Iris’s intense briefing. The four of us head to the elevator, leaving Caleb alone at our desks.
Twenty minutes later, armed with caffeine and a brief reprieve from my new ‘partner,’ I head straight to the kitchen to grab some napkins.
The building’s heating system seems to be fighting a losing battle against the bitter cold outside, and I wrap my hands around the warm cup, grateful for the heat seeping through the ceramic.
I find Caleb there, stirring what looks like hot chocolate, marshmallows floating on top like tiny life rafts.
“Hot chocolate? What are you, twelve?” I ask, reaching for the box of napkins.
“It’s comfort food,” he says, not looking embarrassed in the slightest. “Some of us don’t need to mainline caffeine to function like proper adults. By the way, your timeline needs work.”
“How nice for you.” I shove a few napkins in my pocket. “Now, where were we with that timeline? Oh right, you were about to tell me how everything I do is wrong.”
He leans against the counter, taking a sip of his ridiculously sweet drink. The action draws my attention to his mouth, and I quickly look away. “Your event timeline is too aggressive. You’re trying to cram six months of planning into three.”
I pause, stirring my coffee. Damn it. He’s right. “It’s ambitious, not aggressive. Some of us believe in challenging ourselves.”
“It’s unrealistic. You’ll burn out your vendors and compromise quality.” His voice is matter-of-fact, no smugness. Which somehow makes it worse. “Move the launch back a few months. Give yourself breathing room.”
I stare at my coffee, hating that his suggestion makes perfect sense. “Fine. Giving it more time works for me.” The words taste like chalk. “Happy now?”
“See? We can agree on things when you stop being stubborn.”
“Don’t push it.” I head toward our desks, acutely aware of him following behind me. “What about the guest list? We need to focus on the right demographic for this kind of launch.”
“Leave the targeting strategy to me. Focus on the experience itself.” He’s still close enough that I can smell his cologne when I sit down. “The yacht club idea is solid, but the dinner service feels too formal. These people eat at five-star restaurants every night. They want something unique.”
“Like what? A hot dog cart?”
“Like a chef’s table on the deck. Interactive, intimate. Make them feel like they’re part of something exclusive instead of just another boring corporate event.”
I hate that he’s right. Again. “That could work,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Wow, such ringing endorsement. Try not to let your enthusiasm overwhelm you.”
“I’m sorry, did you want me to throw confetti and do a little dance? It’s a decent idea. Don’t let it go to your oversized head.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says with that infuriating smirk that makes my pulse skip.
I turn back to my computer and save the document irritably.
“While you were nitpicking my work, did you—” I move my coffee mug out of the way to access my keyboard and pause.
There’s a small pink sticky note attached to it that wasn’t there before.
In neat handwriting, it says: ‘Property of the Ice Princess.’
“What the hell?” I peel off the note, staring at it. “Really? Really?! Did you seriously just—”
“What’s wrong?” Caleb asks innocently, settling into his chair with his hot chocolate.
“This.” I wave the sticky note at him. “When did you even—”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I look closer at my desk. There’s another note on my keyboard: ‘Defrost setting: Professional mode only.’ Another one on my monitor: ‘Caution: Cold surface.’ And one more on my pen holder: ‘Ice Queen’s royal supplies.’
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I start peeling off the notes, but they keep appearing. One on my mouse: ‘Click responsibly.’ Another on my phone: ‘For ice-cold calls only.’
“Having some technical difficulties?” Caleb’s voice is perfectly innocent.
“When did you even have time to do this? We were only gone twenty minutes!” I demand, waving a handful of pink notes.
“Do what? I’ve been sitting right here working on budget projections like a model employee.”
Joshua’s head pops up from his desk. “Oh my god, what’s with all the pink notes?”
“Someone thinks they’re a comedian,” I mutter, discovering yet another note on my stapler: ‘Staple with dignity.’
“The ‘Ice Princess’ one is my favorite,” Steven chimes in. “Very creative.”
“Not helping, Steven!”
“I particularly liked the ‘Defrost setting,’” Caleb adds helpfully. “Very technical. Very accurate.”
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” I turn in my chair to face him directly, clutching the sticky notes. The movement brings us closer than intended, and my breath catches.
“I think you need to lighten up. They’re just friendly reminders.”
“Friendly reminders that you have way too much time on your hands.”
“Come on, Eve. You have to admit it was creative. And quick. Very quick.”
“What I have to admit is that you’re exactly the same immature person you were in college, resorting to childish pranks like some overgrown frat boy.”
His smile fades slightly, and something flickers in his expression. “I’m not the same person I was in college.”
“Could have fooled me. Same arrogance, same need to get the last word, same inability to take anything seriously.” I turn back to my computer, my heart still pounding. “Next time you want to prove a point, try acting like the adult you claim to be.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“For the record,” I say without looking at him, “if you ever touch my equipment again, I will destroy you slowly and thoroughly. And I’ll enjoy every second of it.”
“Promise?” The husky note in his voice makes my stomach flip, and I hate myself for it.
“Don’t test me, Reynolds. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
You can’t punch him. You can’t break his nose. He’s the CEO’s brother. I repeat the words like a mantra, trying to calm down.
But I can feel him watching me, and my skin prickles with awareness that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with the way he’s looking at me, like he’s savoring every second of getting under my skin.
I’m halfway through organizing my files when I hear him mutter under his breath, “Ice Princess strikes again.” My fingers freeze over the keyboard.
That does it. Two can play this game, and he’s about to find out exactly what happens when you mess with the Ice Princess.