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“I was at the top of my class, and we had to do pitch wars. Mine came out on top.”
“Very impressive, Miss Bennett.”
My eyebrow rises. “Now I’m Miss Bennett?” I chuckle. “So formal.”
“When entertaining clients, I need to be semi-professional.”
I snicker. “Good luck with that.” I stand, smoothing down my skirt.
“Where are you off to?”
Smirking, I lean in. “I’m going to give another go with the VIP, VIP, super-secret restrooms.” I look around, playing at mysterious. “But nobody can know.”
He laughs. “I should wish you good luck. Keep clear of the metal door.”
I press my lips together. “No worries about that. It was a once-in-a-lifetime mistake.”
“Sure was,” he says, and something in his gaze tells me he doesn’t believe that for a second.
I shake my head, making my way from the private room.
The club is packed, like the Wednesday night we first met. The bass is thumping, and bodies are pressed together on the dance floor. The air is thick with perspiration, perfume, and pheromones.
I’m headed toward the secret hallway when I spot a familiar face standing with a group of men at a tall table. Asher has his head bent in, talking with a man with facial hair trimmed neatly.
Three other men are huddled around, watching Ash and the beard with interest. They’re all dressed in their suits from the day, likely having come here straight from work.
Asher has been working late hours, according to a text he sent the other day. Ever since Summer Smith took the contract, they’ve been in full swing, shooting commercials and arranging interviews with popular publications.
He didn’t share much about the campaigns, but it’s probably for the better.
I don’t want to inadvertently steal his ideas because it’s easy to do. It happened many times during pitch wars when friends who’d been study partners had pitched to each other.
It was inevitable that something was going to end up in another pitch. It wasn’t even done maliciously.
I wonder whether I should interrupt what looks to be an intense conversation and decide against it.
I miss my friend, but it appears we’re both here with colleagues, and if I’m really being honest, a part of me doesn’t want him to find out about Holly Morgan.
Not that I believe he leaked the information about Summer, but because, like the incidents with pitch wars, the same thing could happen. It could be a slip of the tongue that he mentions to someone else within the office, which leads to Bauer coming after yet another collaboration.
I remember Charles having mentioned that the men behind Bauer were shady, and I know it’s best to keep my head down and pretend I didn’t see Asher.
It makes me sad, but I’m an adult working in a competitive field, and whether I like it or not, he works for the competition, making us on opposite sides of the line.
Just as I reach the back hallway and the first door that actually is a bathroom, another hand reaches for the handle at the same time. Jumping, I step back and look up to see Charles.
“What in the world are you doing here? Go away. I need to use the restroom.”
“Not happening Raven.” He looks at me all serious while I stand gaping at him.
“Are you off your rocker?” I chide.
“No, I need to be the first to go in. You know, to make sure the lock works.” His words register, and I can’t help but bark out a laugh.
“How is it you can be such a dickhead and then the next minute so funny?”
“Talent. Now get in here.”
