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“Jeremy just texted me to say they’re in the lobby,” Mitchell interrupts me.
My dad turns back to him. “Good work, son.”
I glance down at my phone. I texted West an hour ago to thank him for the flowers, but I’ve heard nothing back.
He’s an extremely busy man, but I was hoping we could talk briefly before this meeting. I’ve been anxious about it since my dad arranged it two days ago.
I don’t want my relationship with West to impact the job I’m doing. I’m focused and excited about the vanilla vodka launch. I’ve put a lot of thought and effort into my presentation today. I think it’s some of my best work to date.
My head snaps up when I hear Trent’s voice approaching. I suck in a deep breath and rise to my feet.
West rounds the cor
ner first, stopping when he reaches the doorway.
He shoots my dad a smile, ignores Mitchell and finally meets my gaze.
“It’s good to see you, Jeremy.” My dad moves from where he’s standing. “You too, Trent.”
Both men approach my dad and shake his hand.
Mitchell lines up and does the same.
I don’t move. I can’t move. My knees have weakened to the point that I fear they’ll buckle if I attempt even the smallest of steps.
West is dressed impeccably in a black suit and blue dress shirt and tie.
I’m instantly overwhelmed by an image of what he looks like without a stitch of clothing on.
I need to pull myself together. Now.
“Hey, Linny.” Trent raises his hand in my direction. “How are you?”
“Good.” I drop back into my seat. “How are you, Trent?”
“Alive.” He laughs as he lowers himself into the chair next to me. “I’m finally getting over the flu.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch West pulling out the chair opposite me.
“That’s good news.” I pick up my pen. “Your tea should be arriving any minute.”
“That’s thoughtful, thanks.” Trent touches my forearm.
West’s gaze follows the path of Trent’s fingers, his hand fisting on the table in front of him.
I stretch to reach for my pen, causing Trent’s hand to slip from my arm. “I haven’t forgotten about the rest of us. I ordered four coffees too.”
“Let’s get started.” West strums his fingers over the edge of the table. “What have you got for me today, Linny?”
I glance over at my dad to find him whispering something to Mitchell. I had him in mind when I envisioned this contest and the attached prize, yet he’s more interested in what Mitchell is saying than my presentation.
I tap my pen on the edge of the table. “Gentlemen, you’re going to want to hear this.”
My dad and Mitchell both turn to look but it’s my dad who chuckles. “The floor is yours, Linny. Once you’re done, Mitchell has a fantastic idea of his own to pitch.”
I wouldn’t be so sure.
Once I’m finished explaining my vision for the Rizon campaign contest, Mitchell’s idea won’t stand a chance.
