Page 12 of One Midnight Kiss

5

FOX

The moment I stepped into the room and laid eyes on the woman scrutinizing me, I felt it.

I looked directly into her big blue eyes and felt a little tingling at the back of my neck. It was like an itch in the back of my mind, a flicker of familiarity.

I shook it off. I didn’t have time for déjà vu, but there it was, gripping me by the throat as I tried to place her. The way she sat with her back straight and her chin up as she eyed me skeptically. Her posture was as rigid as a steel beam. It sent a tingle of recognition up my spine. I was left wondering why I felt like I knew her.

“Fox, this is Natalia Dawkins from upstairs,” Jerrod said.

My eyes moved back to hers. She stood up and extended her hand. “Natalia. I’m the marketing director for Williamson and Rodgers.”

I nod. “Fox Samuelson. CEO of HomeTech.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said with zero emotion.

My robots had more warmth.

“Thank you so much for making the time,” I said.

“Of course,” she said, her voice crisp and businesslike, but for just a second, the chill was gone from her voice. And there it was again—that familiarity. Like a distant melody from a dream, something I heard before but couldn’t quite place.

I had the urge to close my eyes and listen, to let the memory surface, but she was already sitting down, folding her hands on the table, a picture of calm composure.

She clearly didn’t want to sit around and shoot the breeze.

“Mr. Samuelson,” she said.

“Please, call me Fox,” I said as I took my seat at the head of the table.

She looked at me as if she was trying to figure out if my name was real or some self-given nickname. Her eyes were sharp, the kind that seemed to cut through the noise and go straight for the truth.

“I’ve reviewed the materials you sent over, and I have to say, I’m a bit perplexed,” she said.

I leaned back in my chair, studying her, trying to shake the sensation that I’d seen her before. I couldn’t seem to move past the sensation. “Perplexed how?” I asked.

“Well,” she started, her tone somewhere between condescending and curious, “you’ve designed a groundbreaking product. There’s no doubt Hanna could revolutionize smart home technology. But the messaging?” She waved a hand, almost dismissively. “It’s a disaster. You’ve marketed this like you’re trying to sell a robot nanny that’s going to spy on its owners. The public isn’t interested in an AI that’s smarter than they are, Mr. Sam—Fox.”

I felt a flash of irritation. Normally, this kind of strait-laced, type-A attitude grated on my nerves, but there was something about her that kept me from snapping back. I wasn’t sure if it was the faint pull of recognition or the fact that she was clearly brilliant, dissecting our strategy with precision. We all knew the marketing was flawed. That was why she was here.

I exchanged a look with Jerrod. I could tell he wasn’t handling the criticism well.

“We’ve been focusing on the tech side,” Jerrod said, his voice a touch defensive. “We thought consumers would appreciate the innovation. They need to understand what makes Hanna unique.”

Natalia’s eyes flicked to Jerrod for a moment before returning to me. “While true, it’s not the technology itself they’ll care about. It’s what it can do for them. You need to paint a picture, tell a story. Right now, that story is a horror movie. It’s something out of a bad science fiction movie that has people tossing their Alexas in the trash.”

The room fell silent for a second as her words settled. A flood of confused emotions stirred within me. A mix of annoyance, respect, and an unfamiliar feeling that was starting to disturb me the more I listened to her speak.

Jerrod shook his head. “I thought…”

Natalia’s lips curved into a tight, almost pitying smile. “You thought wrong,” she said simply. “You’re asking people to pull teeth and smile about it. Marketing AI is like trying to sell a root canal as a vacation. Nobody wants it because they’re afraid of it, and frankly, you haven’t given them a reason not to be. You’re trying to force your consumers to smile while you’re jerking their teeth out.”

Jerrod’s face went pale. He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but I leaned forward, cutting him off. “Ms. Dawkins,” I said, keeping my voice even.

One of her perfectly arched eyebrows rose.

“Natalia.” I corrected myself. I wasn’t sure why we were doing the first name thing. “How do you feel about having something in your home that stabilizes temperature, notifies you when there’s an issue with your HVAC system, and saves you money on utilities every month? Doesn’t that sound appealing?”