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It fits her like a glove.
I noticed the dress the second she walked in and when she brushed past me to toss her purse onto Jared’s desk, her ass grabbed my full attention.
The fabric is hugging her every curve.
“You’re wasting your time, Dexie.” I close the empty take-out container in front of me.
The food wasn’t half-bad. I may indulge again, but only if she’s by my side.
“I knew you’d say that,” she mutters.
I smile at the slight dig. I like her spirit and the fact that she’s not falling all over herself trying to secure a deal with me.
“I’ll have my proposal in your hands soon.” I take a sip of water before I place the bottle back down on my desk.
I took the wooden chair in front of my desk and offered Dexie the office chair behind it. It’s moderately more comfortable.
Her gaze scans the room. “I didn’t picture your office looking like this.”
I’ve never seen the value in paying a premium to rent office space I’ll rarely be in.
This two-room space is big enough to house Jared’s desk in the waiting area and mine in the main office.
It’s uncommon for any of my business associates to stop by here. I can count on one hand how many face-to-face meetings I’ve taken white sitting behind this desk.
“I didn’t picture you working in an office like Matiz.” I sit back in my chair. “Tell me how you ended up working there.”
She takes a breath. “The staffing agency I went to hooked me up with Matiz.”
It’s a succinct answer. She plays her cards close to the vest. My time at the poker table has taught me how to read people, including beautiful women.
“Is the job more important than Dexie Walsh?”
“My company?” she clarifies with a raised brow.
I study her face. “Or the woman. You decide.”
She considers her answer. “It’s not more important, but it’s essential.”
Most of the entrepreneurs I’ve worked with have handed me the same song and dance at the beginning of our partnerships. I get it. I’ve always understood.
Everyone needs money for the essentials. You can’t pay rent, buy food or clothe yourself without cash. Hope is not currency in the real world.
It is in mine.
I pay my partners to immerse themselves in their dream.
My offers always include a salary if the person I’m working with hasn’t taken the leap to full-time goal chaser.
Dexie isn’t there yet. I understand, but I want to hear it from her.
“I have a degree in marketing,” she goes on without any prompting from me. “I moved to New York so I could see firs
t-hand how the big names are selling their handbags. I study all the online ads that the designer brands run. I pick them apart until I understand every nuance. The font of the text is vital. The color of the background can make or break a sale.”
I don’t interrupt. Instead, I lean forward and focus on every word she’s saying.
“I took the position at Matiz because their marketing department is brilliant. I could get by with working part-time for my friend, Sophia. She heads a clothing line. I learn something every time I work a fashion show with her, but I crave the knowledge I get from my job.” Her hands knit together on the desk. “When it comes to marketing a product, whether it’s a tube of mascara or a tote bag, every aspect matters and if I don’t understand each small thing, I’m not putting the value on my brand that it deserves.”
