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18
Enzo
We sit around the table in Houston. Blair Peterson obviously runs the show here, and I wonder why that information was never given to me when Coddle came looking for a new ad agency. Mr. Jacobson told me my point of contact was Mr. Peterson, and I felt like a fucking fool after the first pitch when I ignored Blair. She hasn’t held it against me, but she definitely favors Annie.
“Why don’t the two of you do the skit?” Blair waves her finger between us, laughing.
I chuckle. “I think the tape will do the trick.”
“Yeah, I was just kidding. I’m sure you guys are eager to get back to New York.” The meeting has been quick and easy, and really, the director could’ve gotten all the information over the phone, but when a client makes a request, we do as they ask. “Enzo, do you mind if I borrow Annie for a few minutes?”
Interesting.
I plaster on a smile. “Not at all. I have a few calls to return.”
“Great, we’ll be right back. Let’s go to my office, Annie.” Blair opens the door of the conference room.
Annie shoots me a look as though I’m letting them lead her to the dungeon. She’s still a little green when meeting with clients, but she has good instincts and even better ideas. As she grows in this business, she’ll become more comfortable with clients. She’s way too talented not to.
It could be my dick talking, but she’s a hidden gem at Jacobson and Earl. If she hadn’t had to cover my assistant’s desk that day, would she have stayed hidden?
The fact that I might be working for a misogynist sits in the back of my mind, but it’s hard to accept that as truth. Have I really been that blind all these years? Ever since Annie Stewart walked into my office, I feel as if all the signs that she’s right are shining in big neon lights.
Fuck, am I a misogynist? I gave my assistants my dry cleaning. Was that demeaning?
My ma raised me to respect women, sure, but do I think of them equally? I like to think I do, but do my actions really represent that?
“Hey.” Annie appears in the doorway. “Blair says bye. We’re good to go.”
I slide out from the table and stuff my phone into my pocket, grabbing my computer bag. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
She looks down and shakes her head.
“Is it about the campaign?”
“Um…” She looks me in the eye. “No.”
What did Blair want from her then?
Annie turns, and we head toward the elevators. Coddle owns the entire building and the factory next door. I turn over theories and ideas as to why Blair wanted to see Annie until we’re in the elevator, then boom, I piece it all together.
“She offered you a job.” I don’t ask, I state it as fact. It’s the only logical reason why she wouldn’t include me in the meeting. Am I always this distracted when Annie’s near?
She straightens her back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t want to talk about it? What kind of job did she offer?”
She glances at me with a hint of fear in her eyes, so I hold back my temper. It’s not her fault she was offered a position. It’s Blair’s for trying to steal one of Jacobson’s best employees.
“Let it go. I declined,” she whispers.
The elevator heads to the bottom floor and ends with a stomach-dropping stop.
She’s out before I can say anything more.
We give our badges back to security and slide into the waiting car.
Thanks for arranging our ride right before you tried to underhandedly steal our employee, Blair.
