I scanned the alerts. Our new marketing campaign, “#AskHer” was generating plenty of attention, but my stomach sank as I realized that it was for all the wrong reasons. The campaign was supposed to be playful, a way to encourage fence-sitting boyfriends to finally propose. Obviously, our goal was to generate positive press for a change, but someone in marketing hadn’t done their research.

  Fuck. I clenched my hand in a fist as I kept reading.

  The #AskHer hashtag belonged to Her Refuge, a charity for victims of domestic abuse. The awareness campaign encouraged people to gently probe for details with friends and family members who appeared to be in dangerous relationships and listed what to look for in domestic violence scenarios.

  Veritique not only seemed clueless with our campaign, we looked outright insensitive.

  “Aww, is bossman in trouble with his little lady?” Felicity asked in a baby voice.

  I glanced up from my phone to scowl at her as I cranked out a scathing email to my team.

  “Hold on, is everything okay?”

  There was no mocking in her voice.

  “No, it’s not,” I answered gruffly. “It’s not at all. Someone in marketing fucked up royally.”

  I did a quarter turn to lean against the elevator wall as I tried to begin damage control.

  “Marketing? Tell me what happened,” she said as she moved in front of me. “Maybe I can help.”

  I was about to insist there was absolutely no way she could help me, but then I remembered the feedback about her from my team. They’d raved about Felicity Rhodes and come close to calling me out for cutting off her interview before it had even begun. Of course, no one dared say anything like that to my face, but the implication was there: I’d fucked up. And Veritique couldn’t afford any more fuck-ups.

  I briefly outlined what was going on and tried to ignore the way her face shifted from disdain to disbelief.

  “Oh, wow,” she breathed out once I finished. “That’s…that’s not good.”

  I scowled at her. “Yeah, thanks. I know.”

  She started pacing again, frowning with her eyebrows drawn down. “But it’s salvageable.”

  “How? How in the world can we turn this around?”

  Felicity held up her hand and ticked off her fingers, “First, acknowledge the mistake, then accept accountability⁠—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, then say, ‘We deeply regret the oversight,’” I sighed. “I know, that’s standard.”

  Felicity’s head jerked back in unconcealed disgust. “Um, no, that’s one hundred percent wrong. ‘We deeply regret’ is not an apology, and calling it an oversight is downright insulting.”

  I paused. She was right. “Okay, then what do you suggest?”

  She leaned against the wall opposite me, clutching the rail behind her back and accidentally giving me a front row seat to her breasts—which were absolutely worth the price of admission. With an effort of pure will, I managed to pull my eyes away. “You need to offer a real apology, from the heart, then show how Veritique is going to make it right. And my suggestion is to do some sort of partnership with Her Refuge.”

  “Go on.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Scrap the hashtag, it belongs to them. Start a completely new campaign that shines a light on the prevalence of domestic violence. Center it around a product that isn’t related to marriage, like a simple gold chain.” Felicity paused to look something up on her phone. “Yeah, a chain works, because you can use the hashtag #BreakingtheChain. So, you’ll donate a portion of the proceeds of any gold chains sold during a certain timeframe to Her Refuge, then offer a matching contribution at the end of the campaign.”

  It made a lot of sense. My father had always insisted that admitting wrongdoing was weak, but I knew better. The problem was that I was so steeped in his way of thinking that sometimes I didn’t stop to question what I was doing, or why. The faux apologies—or worse, no apologies—needed to become a thing of the past.

  “I like it,” I said simply. “Direct, actionable…yeah. It works.”

  “High praise,” Felicity smirked. “Thanks.”

  “No, the high praise is me telling Sandrine to put your plan into action ASAP,” I replied as I quickly typed instructions to my employee.

  It struck me as I hit send that my team had been right about her. Felicity was a standout. I’d been too stubborn to get past my first impression. Maybe I was more like my father than I was willing to admit. And if so, that was something that needed to change. The old “my way or the highway” perspective had gotten us in the crisis we were currently facing, thanks to my father. It was up to me to get us back out.

  “Consider my help a freebie.” Her eyebrow arched up. “Which is all you’ll ever get from me.”

  “I don’t accept freebies,” I replied as the idea quickly took shape. I didn’t want to second guess myself, so I kept talking. “Which is why I want you to reconsider working for Veritique.”

  She’d gone back to the relentless pacing, but my offer made her stop in her tracks. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re good, Felicity. You came up with a make-right plan within seconds, and crisis management wasn’t even on your resume.”

  She snorted out a laugh. “Oh, you mean you actually read it? I’m shocked.”

  “I did, before I knew it was you,” I admitted.

  “Yeah, but I am me, and we already know that you and I,” she gestured between us, “do not work. So, thank you for the offer, but it’s a no, Mr. O’Connor.”

  That wouldn’t do at all. People didn’t say no to me.

  “Did you talk compensation with Andre Thibault during your interviews?”

  “Yeah, shocker,” she laughed at me. “Your HR rep did mention the compensation package. Crazy, right? And I’m still saying no.”

  I ignored the sarcasm in her voice. When I made up my mind, I didn’t stop until I won. And this scenario in particular was one in which I was determined to come out on top.

  I coughed. Wrong word choice, given the way I watched her ass every time she started pacing.

  “I’ll double it.”

  Her pink lips dropped open, which seemed to be her go-to expression when she was struck speechless.

  I sort of liked that I could do that to her.

  “I…I…” she stuttered.

  “Say yes,” I shrugged, confident I’d won her over. “It’s as simple as that.”

  “No.”

  It was my turn for my mouth to fall open in shock. “Excuse me? No?”

  “No,” she said in a firmer voice.

  “Are you not hearing me, Miss Rhodes? I’m taking an already generous package and offering to double it. Are you so flush you can walk away from an offer of that size? Because that really would surprise me.” I gestured up and down her body.

  She stomped her foot, her face bright red.

  “And that’s exactly why my answer is no,” she fumed at me. “You’re insufferable. And rude. Do you really think more money will make it easier for me to deal with you?”

  “A lot more money,” I reminded her.

  “Whatever,” she shouted back at me. “It doesn’t matter! My answer is still no!”

  “I’ll triple the initial offer.”

  The air in the elevator went still while Felicity slowly turned to me.

  “You can’t be serious,” she said in a soft voice.

  “Try me.”

  “But…” she mouthed some quick calculations to herself. “No way. That would be enough for…”

  “Enough for what?” I asked, taking note of the tiny smile she was trying to hide.

  “Nothing,” she said quickly, arranging her face back into the tense, annoyed expression I was used to.

  She returned to pacing.

  “Why are you always in motion?” I demanded. “Stop already, it’s really annoying.”

  “I hate enclosed spaces, okay?” She shook her hands like they’d fallen asleep and felt prickly. “This is stressing me out, and I’m doing everything I can to avoid losing my shit. You being in here too definitely isn’t helping.”

  I wanted to backtrack immediately because Tyler felt the same way. I’d seen him have a full-blown panic attack the time his label had forced him to make his entrance on stage in a coffin-sized box, and it wasn’t pretty.

  “Okay, okay, I understand,” I said calmly, backing up as much as I could to give her more space. “Take a minute to center yourself while I check to see if Brian has any updates. We’ll be fine, I promise you.”

  Felicity bent over at the waist and placed her hands on her knees, letting out long breaths. She was worse off than I’d realized.

  Brian texted me back within seconds to let me know the techs were working remotely and were close to figuring out what had gone wrong.

  “Almost there,” I reassured her.

  She craned her neck to look up at me. “It’s not just my claustrophobia that’s making me freak out right now.”

  I tilted my head at her, waiting for her to continue.

  “It’s that I’m saying yes to your offer.”

  And with that, the elevator cranked back into service.

  Life was about to get very interesting.

  5

  FELICITY

  Ihoped I didn’t look as overwhelmed as I felt.

  Of course, I knew I looked good in the outfit Nina had helped me pick—new gray pants that showed off my assets and a yellow blouse, both from Ann Taylor—even if everyone else in the room was probably wearing labels I’d never heard of. But what really had me rattled was the fact that I was sitting elbow-to-elbow with some of the most powerful people at Veritique, in a window-filled conference room that looked down on the skyscrapers around it. We were so high up I swore I could see Pennsylvania on the horizon.

  I was now in the big leagues.

  I’d been rushed through the onboarding process so I could be a part of this strategy meeting. Apparently, Cameron not only wanted me to be a part of the team, he needed me.

  It was nice to know I had a bit of power in the situation…but it was scary, too. Cameron was putting a lot of faith in me. Screwing up was not an option. The mood in the room was tense, with everyone frowning and talking in low voices. We were all waiting for our fearless leader to get the meeting started.

  Sandrine slid into the open seat next to me.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here,” she leaned over and whispered. “You’re a fresh voice with a really interesting take on our direction. With you here, we definitely won’t be making any more missteps like that #AskHer disaster.”

  My stomach twisted at the responsibility of it. I was totally excited to rise to the challenge, but I would have liked at least a few days to settle into my new position. That wasn’t going to be an option.

  “Wow, no pressure or anything,” I laughed awkwardly.

  She was about to answer me when Cameron’s assistant Alessandra rushed into the conference room, which was clearly the harbinger of the grump to come, since everyone quickly made their way to their seats. The whispers stopped when he breezed in.

  The vibe in the room shifted immediately, like a thunderstorm was brewing. Based on the straight backs and serious faces around me, we all felt it.

  “Good morning,” Cameron glanced round the room at everyone before sitting down.

  There were a few murmurs in response, but no one wanted to say anything loudly and risk drawing attention to themselves.

  “Is everyone ready to brainstorm?” he asked, clapping his hands together once.

  I finally glanced at his face and realized he was staring directly at me. My cheeks went hot, and I focused on the new tablet I’d been given while everyone around me mumbled more indistinguishable words that sounded vaguely like agreement.

  “Before we get to it, I need to make sure we all show our newest employee some appreciation. Felicity Rhodes, will you stand up please?”

  There were twenty people in the room, but it wasn’t like they didn’t know who I was. My face burned at being singled out first thing, but I rose to my feet waving both of my hands like a dork. I started to sink back into my chair after a few seconds.

  “Hold on a sec,” Cameron said, pointing his finger up at me.

  I froze in a half-squat, hovering above my chair.

  “We’re all well aware that the #AskHer campaign was a nightmare,” he paused to glare at a guy I’d just met named Glen. Judging from the way he shrank in his seat, that nightmare had been his idea. “I want to make sure everyone knows it was Felicity who came to our rescue by suggesting the #BreaktheChain campaign in cooperation with the Her Refuge organization. We took some early hits because of the mistake, but Sandrine’s nearly immediate apology video coupled with the announcement of the partnership really turned things around. So let’s take a moment to thank Felicity for thinking on her feet even before she officially joined the team.”

  The round of applause felt genuine, and now my cheeks burned for a totally different reason. I’d hoped we’d at least discuss how my campaign was going during the meeting, but I was totally unprepared for being singled out for praise.

  Especially by him.

  Maybe my new boss wasn’t so bad after all?

  If I could look past how freaking judgmental he was and the superiority complex that practically oozed out of him. And how distractingly hot he was. How did he expect people to be able to concentrate when he was wandering around looking like that without even the decency to include a warning label? Like today, with him sitting at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest? With that face of his, all angular and model-y? A part of me could imagine climbing up on the conference table, crawling the length of it down to him, then grabbing him by his navy blue tie and twisting it around my fist before slowly pulling him closer to me and⁠—

  “Felicity?” Cameron said, his expression hovering between amused and annoyed. “Are you still with us?”

  I snapped my mouth shut, even more embarrassed that it had been hanging open without my awareness. “Yes, of course,” I answered quickly. I fiddled with my tablet, trying to turn it back on.

  “So what are your thoughts?” he pressed, narrowing his eyes at me.

  Shit, shit, shit. What had he been talking about when I was drooling over him?

  “The engagement ring campaign,” Sandrine whispered out of the corner of her mouth to me.

  “The engagement ring campaign!” I echoed triumphantly, silently thanking my new best friend for the life preserver. “Yes, of course. I actually have a ton of thoughts.”

  Everyone was staring at me, which made me feel a little shaky. Of course, I was totally prepared to contribute during the meeting, but I had no idea I was going to be in the hotseat to serve as the primary stormy brain for the damn thing.

  “The floor is yours,” Cameron said smoothly.

  I still couldn’t get to my notes on the new tablet, which made me look like I didn’t know how to work it—which I totally did, but I might’ve forgotten where I’d put them. I had a full plan, but it wasn’t ready for general consumption quite yet, especially since I hadn’t priced it all out. Again, I wasn’t expecting to have to present it within my first hours of starting.

  Time to sink or swim.

  “Okay,” I said. My palms were so sweaty I was afraid to put them on the table because I knew they’d leave streaks behind on the glossy surface. “Okay. So, I’m thinking we need some sort of outside influence to help bring more attention to Veritique.”

  I saw Cameron frowning at me all the way down the mile-long table. Couldn’t he at least give me the benefit of the doubt before judging me?

  “It’s not that we need help or anything,” I quickly clarified, “because Veritique is a powerhouse. But my idea is that we can double our exposure by partnering with an influencer who is in the business of love, who can amplify our message. People eat that sort of thing up, and it’s super scalable.”

  “We don’t do partnerships,” Cameron scowled. “No model collabs, no capsule collections. We’re not about that sort of thing.”

  I wasn’t surprised he immediately shot me down. I already knew Veritique considered themselves above the sorts of marketing alliances most companies worked into their budgets every year.

  “And has that been working for you?” I asked simply.

  A few people gasped. Clearly, I’d entered a minefield just by being a little bit sassy.

  Okay, a lot bit. Whatever.

  “Do you want to see our annual report?” Cameron glowered back at me. “Trust me, we’re doing just fine.”

  “Not as well as we were before the fallout from the mine conditions crisis,” a man I’d met that morning named Jeffrey said quickly.

  Cameron seemed to be ready to combust in his leather chair.

  “Exactly,” I said, hoping to take some of the heat from Jeffrey, since he’d stuck up for me in a roundabout way. “Which is why a new approach might be a good thing.”

  “Fine. Keep going,” Cameron said begrudgingly.

  I dug deep and found a reserve of kickass I didn’t know I had. “I propose,” I laughed self-consciously at my little joke, “that we partner up with Lucy Dubois. Does everyone here know her?”

  I looked around the table to find most heads nodding, because of course the marketing folks knew her. The woman had built an influencer empire that almost rivaled the Kardashians, with product tie-ins that resulted in major gains for her partner brands. She had a rabid following that did whatever she told them to. Connecting with Lucy was an even bigger no-brainer partnership because she was known for her “forever-ever or never-ever” trend, where she could predict which celebrity couples were going to make it to the altar, and which were going to split up. She was eerily good at it—no one else had a track record as strong as hers.

  “Who the hell is Lucy Dubois?” Cameron asked in a frustrated voice, looking around the table and frowning like it was our fault he wasn’t up to date on pop culture.

  “She’s an influencer,” Sandrine answered for me. “Or should I say, she’s the influencer when it comes to romance and relationships.”