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Sal huffs and puffs before pulling a folder over. “Taylorson Greeves is sniffing around.”
I scowl at the mention of our only half-decent competitor. “They’re always sniffing around.”
“I know. And usually I’d laugh in the face of their presence, but this pitch has stumped me. Nothing I think up gets my blood racing. It’s all the same old, same old, all been done before.”
I switch into business mode in an instant. “Talk to me.”
“This could be huge.”
“Agreed.”
“Massive.”
“Agreed.”
“They’re giving only three firms the chance to pitch. I really want the opportunity, and I really want this deal.”
“Me too.” I want this deal more than I want anything. Even Lainey. High-end lingerie that looks amazing and fits even better. Win-win.
“We need to deliver something explosive,” Sal says, looking at the notes before him. “And I thought I had it, but now I’m not so sure. Beautiful woman modeling, looking all seductive and sexy. Like I said, it’s been done a thousand times, Ty.” He slumps back in his chair. “I’m not often the pessimist, but they’re due any minute, and I have nothing to dazzle them with. Nothing to convince them to give us the opportunity to pitch.”
I slump back too, wishing I’d gotten more involved in the brainstorming, but when your partner—a partner you trust with your life—tells you this one is taken care of, you listen. Especially when other deals are taking up your time. “So you decide now, when they’re moments away, that you want my help?”
He shrugs.
“So, basically, I’m here to dazzle them with something other than an amazing marketing strategy?” Fucking typical. I can be Ty Christianson when it suits Sal.
“I’m desperate,” Sal admits as I grab the file and have a quick scan through, flipping my partner a scowl here and there. He doesn’t seem himself. He’s never been this under-prepared. “Hey, mate, is there anything—?” The door opens after two small knocks, and I’m up from my chair in an instant, cursing the damn coffee machine for stripping me of my armor. The two female creators of Pyra Lingerie follow Gina into the conference room, and as soon as they clock me, I search for the delight I usually spy in every woman’s eyes when they encounter me. I smile to myself when both women’s steps falter.
“Hi.” I flash them my most disarming smile and walk over, offering my hand. “I’m Ty Christianson.” I know there’s probably no need for an introduction, but still. “And this is my partner, Sal Walker.” I shake each of their hands delicately.
“I’m Karen, and this is my partner Whitney.” They flash each other knowing looks, looks that I know mean we have a shot.
“Pleasure,” I say smoothly. “Thanks for meeting with us.” I blind them with another smile that tells them it’ll be worth their while. I’m cranking up my fuckability appeal. I’m gonna need it. “We’re looking forward to showing you ladies why you should give Christianson Walker the chance to pitch.”
Karen grins. “We’re looking forward to finding out if we’re compatible.”
I flick a look to Sal as he takes a chair. He’s clearly uneasy. And why can’t he hide it, for fuck’s sake? “So you’re narrowing it down to just three?”
“Right,” Whitney sighs. “We had ten firms apply to tender. We’re meeting with them all briefly to test the synergy before narrowing down to three pitches.” Her despondency boosts my confidence. She looks exasperated by the process. “To be honest, we’re a little overwhelmed.”
“I figured as much,” I reply.
“You did?”
“Being overwhelmed can be draining.” I’m being suggestive.
Both women giggle, and Sal flashes me the familiar look that tells me to carry right on with the charm.
“So.” I start wandering casually around the room. It’s a tactical move—one that’ll have these two women salivating over my physique while trying to keep their business heads on. Call me unethical. I don’t care. “Obviously, first of all, you want to ensure that whoever you decide to work with is aligned with your plans for Pyra.” I scan the two women over, noting curvy, womanly frames, boobs that are more than a handful, and nice tight waists. Women with something to grab on to. God, I love a woman with a fine curvy arse. “And I can assure you, there’s no man on earth who appreciates exceptional quality, sexy-as-sin underwear more than I do. I will devote my full attention to your brand and building it beyond your wildest fantasies.” More grins. “You want a concept that’ll blow Pyra out of the water. Because Pyra is unique, yes?” I rest my palms on the table, leaning in. Both women drop their eyes to my chest. I smile on the inside. “It’s not directed at the typical woman we see on every billboard dripping in sexy lace.” Their hums of agreement and obvious relief has me concluding they’re bored out of their minds with the suggestion that only the perfect size-zero woman can model high-end lingerie. I’m on the right track with this. I’m a little surprised Sal didn’t have this in the bag already, if I’m honest. “It should be all about the suggestive element,” I go on. “The outside confidence in a real woman from wearing gorgeous underwear no one can see. Your underwear.” Both women lift their faces from my chest. I smile. God, I love my job. They’re virtually hyperventilating, and I flick a cheeky smirk to Sal, who is there with them. “Every woman is beautiful. Pyra will make them feel that way, not inferior like so many underwear ads do. There will be no skinny supermodels. Only curves, and we’ll make sure we make every woman in the world confident. And that means wearing your gorgeous, beautifully made, structured, sexy lingerie.”
