1. Natalie #2
He looks at me. “Or we gamble on whatever Miss Wright has planned.”
I return a polite smile. “I’d say the bigger gamble is someone who makes headlines by mocking the audience.”
The room shifts. A few sponsors exchange glances; someone tries to hide a smirk behind their coffee cup.
I’ve been to Henry’s events before. He doesn’t just work a room—he toys with it.
Slips in barbs at the crowd’s expense, half for his own amusement.
Sometimes they miss it and laugh anyway.
Sometimes they catch it, and the gossip columns explode.
Henry’s jaw tightens slightly. “Not every joke lands,” he says evenly. “But people remember me.”
“Absolutely. But for this event, the story should be the cause, not the host.” I lean back. “I’ve already reached out to Edward Long. He’s interested.”
Edward is Cosmo’s close friend. Naturally, he’ll wear Vue.
The reaction is immediate. Excited chatter starts around the table. Someone whistles low.
“Edward Long?” Isabelle’s face lights up. “The Edward Long?”
Jared leans forward. “He hasn’t done anything like this in years.”
Isabelle beams. “Edward would be perfect.”
I glance at Henry. For a brief moment, he looks caught off guard but just as quickly, he smooths it over with that practiced grin.
“Edward has my vote,” he says.
I bite back a smile, but my victory is short-lived. Henry suggests Zara Blake for the keynote. She’s Hollywood royalty, double Oscar winner, and so devoted to Carter she probably sleeps in their resort wear. No question what she’ll be wearing.
“Zara brings star power. She can livestream the entire event,” he says smoothly.
The table buzzes with interest.
“Zara’s iconic,” I counter, “but if we want reach and relevance, Haven Renard just hit three million views on an afterparty stream.” She’s an influencer and Cosmo’s niece. Difficult to work with, yes, but we should be able to get her to wear Vue.
“Oh, I loved her campaign with the rabbits,” Isabelle interjects, snapping her fingers. “Such artistic vision.”
Nods start around the room. I’m about to seal it when Henry leans back.
“Before we lock in talent, maybe we should establish the visual concept first?” he suggests.
He isn’t wrong but he was just trying to secure Zara seconds ago.
“I brought a mood board,” I say quickly.
“Excellent,” Isabelle perks up.
I move to the laptop and open my presentation. The first slide fills the screen.
“Cool and controlled,” I explain. “Slate, blush, matte black.”
The colors define Vue’s new identity. Fresh, elevated and contemporary.
Henry stands. “I also prepared a board.”
Then he’s right beside me. Close enough for me to catch his cologne. Something crisp, with darker undertones. He leans past, his shoulder brushing mine as he pulls out the USB and drops it into my palm.
I return to my seat as his mood board fills the screen. Of course it’s Carter’s signature palette of deep gold, oxblood and cream. Everything about it whispers old-money confidence. Cathedral ceilings, flawless tailoring, a heritage so entrenched it never has to prove itself.
“The Westmere’s ballroom has classic details,” Henry says. “Gold leaf, marble columns. This palette works with the space, not against it.”
He’s right. I know it, he knows it, and the nods around the table confirm it.
“Anything too modern will fight the architecture,” he continues. “Matte black, stark minimalism—it clashes. The room wants elegance…warmth.”
Someone whispers, “Exactly.”
“Leave that up, Henry,” Isabelle says. “We can reference it throughout.”
My stomach drops. Vue’s aesthetic may not have been a perfect match for the hotel’s architecture, but the contrast was the point. I want to argue, to defend the vision, but pushing back now would make me look defensive, petty even. I need allies, not a public clash. So, I swallow my words.
The rest of the meeting becomes a masterclass in corporate maneuvering.
Henry doesn’t oppose my ideas. He enhances them.
At least, that’s how he frames it. Every suggestion subtly shifts the event toward Carter’s vision, their aesthetic, their advantage.
He does it so seamlessly that everyone assumes we’re on the same side.
I wasn’t prepared for this. He’s doing exactly what I came here to do, only better.
He gives each person his full attention before he speaks, remembers every detail they’ve shared, leans in just enough to make them feel heard.
It’s calculated, disarming, and it works.
He has the kind of presence that could almost make you forget he’s systematically hijacking your event. Almost.
By the time we adjourn, I’m seething. Not just at Henry, but at Cosmo for blindsiding me. I could have strategized, prepared, fought back if I’d known he’d be here.
As people start packing up, I glance across the table and catch his eye. He gives me that smug look again. Then he winks, like this is some private joke between us.
I grip my folder tighter, my heart hammering, and walk out, already plotting how I’m going to reclaim control.