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As the meeting kicks off, voices take over, each person pitching in with their updates and ideas.
Logan's voice finds its way into the mix, his tone smooth as honey. He begins to discuss his latest project, with Greene,myclient, emphasizing the expected growth it would bring to the company. Something about his voice, the way he talks, it's like he's flirting with the entire room.
And of course, he's talking about his project with the client he stole from me. Of course.
It irks me. And I can't help myself.
I interrupt him. "If I may interject, Logan."
The room falls silent. All eyes turn to me as I start discussing one of my own projects. It's a brilliant strategy: incisive, innovative, and the projected growth easily surpasses Logan's project with Greene.
My colleagues smile and chatter between themselves, praising my words. I smirk, catching Logan's eye.
Logan leans back in his chair, his mouth curling into a smirk. "That's an interesting proposition, Bailey, but what if we took it up a notch?" He suggests an audacious addition to my strategy, one that could either lead to a huge success or a disastrous failure. His risk-taking attitude is infuriating, and yet a part of me can't help but admire his fucking audacity.
But he's not stealing this show.
Not this time.
"Well, that's quite a gamble, Logan. Are you suggesting we stake our company's future on a hunch?" I propose a more balanced approach, attacking his recklessness. The room buzzes with deliberation.
It's clear we're not just discussing business proposals anymore. This has turned into a tug of war, a battle of wills.
But I'm not about to back down. I have a reputation to uphold.
And I need to teach Logan a lesson: that can't always get what he wants.
Logan leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "A hunch? No, Bailey. It's about being bold. It's about taking risks that others are afraid to take. Wouldn't it be refreshing to finally upgrade from your 'safe' strategies?"
I clench my fists under the table. "A bold move can also lead to a bold fail," I retort, my voice laced with equal parts annoyance and begrudging respect. "Bold doesn't mean recklessly chasing risks. It requires smart calculation. The kind you'd understand if you didn't spend half your time chasing skirts."
The room gasps, whispers breaking out like sudden wildfire.
"Well, maybe if you loosened up a little, you'd realize that my 'skirt-chasing' has brought more clients to this company than your 'smart calculations.' Have you ever considered that?"
Before I can respond, Mr. Atwood steps in, his voice slicing through the room like a knife. "Enough, you two. This is a boardroom, not a schoolyard. I suggest you both remember that."
Fuck.
The tension is palpable, the silence deafening. The room is filled with the shock of our unprofessional exchange. A quick glance at Mr. Atwood's stern face confirms my fears.
We're screwed.
I’m screwed.
My eyes dart over to Logan, glaring at him. He seems unbothered. Per usual.
This was my chance, my moment to shine, to show Atwood that I was ready for that promotion.
But thanks to Playboy Logan's reckless audacity, and my short fuse, it's turned into a disaster.
The meeting continues as people try to brush off the heated exchange with forced laughter, attempting to steer the conversation back to the company and its business.
Logan and I, however, remain silent.
By the end of the exhausting boardroom saga, Mr. Atwood stands. "Thanks to all for your contributions," he says, "Logan, Bailey." He pauses, a stern note creeping into his voice. "I'd like you both to stay behind."
I suddenly feel like a kid being scolded by the principal.
