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Mark makes a distressed noise and he and Andrea clear out just as soon as Carol swoops in with a dossier full of papers she must have printed at home, thinking about how this pitch was going to go over today.
I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried.
“You’re going to be fine,” Carol assures me, apparently reading my face. “These are just some considerations that you’re going to have to address. You know this. We’ve discussed it. I just want to make sure they don’t fall by the wayside.”
I don’t have much time to think about things for very long. Because my entire department and I are heading over to the conference room. The board members are already seated alongside Declan, all of them apparently feted with a breakfast before this presentation. The staff from the in-office cafe are clearing the plates and cutlery and replacing the pitchers of ice water and pots of coffee.
If I have any more coffee, I’m going to vibrate right out of here.
I can’t help but watch Declan as everyone arranges themselves around the table.
He’s played a starring role in my dreams for the last few hours. It was less than twelve hours ago that we were here together, about to break a tenuous boundary.
He doesn’t look back at me though. He’s calm and polished and the consummate businessman, chatting about some Forbes article with one of the board members. Me being here in the same room with him apparently doesn’t even register. I don’t understand how he does it. He can slip various masks on and off like it’s nothing to completely revamp his personality and his goals.
It makes me wish I had the same ability. The same perfect poker face. Because I’m so afraid that, beyond flubbing this pitch, everyone will be able to see right through me. That I have a thing for Declan.
That I can’t get enough of him.
“Drink some water,” Andrea hisses, passing me a glass as the projector is set up for the presentation, and I chug the entire thing as neatly as I can.
I stop my errant thoughts. It doesn’t matter that I can’t compartmentalize my entire existence like some other people in this conference room. I’m prepared for this. I believe in this.
And I’m ready to go.
One of the board members is an older woman who makes startlingly direct eye contact that is surprisingly helpful. I essentially give the pitch to her, and Andrea, taking a few seconds every couple of minutes to glance around the room.
I can’t linger on Declan, seated at the head of the table. It makes me flush and feel transparent at the same time.
“Our social media campaign would leverage Dynasty in a direction we haven’t yet explored,” I say, reciting my pitch from memory. I wrote out the entire presentation like a speech and ended up memorizing it. It’s the only way I can relax into its delivery. I know it by heart, forward and backward. “The new phase will meet new customers where they are. They don’t have to be at a certain point of their lives or goals or even a fitness regimen to engage with Dynasty. We can come to them.”
My words are accompanied by visuals—most of them taken and adapted from the launch party I covered, but only of the stories I told from the wallflowers. That is the inspiration behind the entire campaign: the regular people who showed up to something that was supposed to be exclusive and fancy.
When the presentation is over, a filler slide decorates the screen and I smile winningly, accidentally locking eyes directly with Declan. “Are there any questions?” I ask. “Any initial thoughts?”
“The initial thought is that this is a reasonable way to go—and to grow,” Declan says. “This makes sense. It’s not too far from where we were. It’s a correction. Accessible. Not exclusive. Let’s proceed, unless there are any objections.”
The look that he distributes around the table would make it hard for anyone to object to my pitch, and it feels like a victory. Everything feels good, I realize in a sudden flood of excitement. I’ve done it. They like my ideas.
“What are the next steps, then?” Declan asks, and Carol takes over.
“Since this is her vision, Sophie should take point on this new initiative,” she says. “Andrea and Hannah will assist, and Mark will provide a support role to keep everything else going.”
“You know your team,” Declan says. “Hang back with me here for a moment, Carol, and let’s discuss a few of the finer details.”
It’s a dismissal, and when my team and I leave, I feel like I’m walking on air. Andrea and Mark start jostling me, giving small, quiet cheers as we return to our desks.
Hannah is quiet. She actually seems disappointed.
“You knocked it out of the park,” Andrea gushes, taking me by the shoulders and shaking me a little. “This is so awesome! I’m so excited to be part of the new project.”
“I’m excited to have you all on the team,” I say, still trying to come to grips with the rush of success. I didn’t think I would really fail, did I? I guess I have just been distracted with Declan.
“You did well, Sophie.” It’s Carol, striding out from the direction of the conference room. Andrea and Mark melt away—Hannah is already sulking in her cubicle—and I sit up a little straighter. Praise from Carol is a rarity. She’s usually so serious that it’s hard to understand what she’s actually thinking, but I swear she’s excited. “Mr. Wright would like to see you in his office to discuss a few of the finer details.”
My excitement levels up. Or something. I don’t know. My heart has been pounding hard all morning, and now it feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.
“You look so nervous,” Mark says as I walk out of the department’s area. “Don’t be—you know you did great. Mr. Wright isn’t a bullshitter. If he didn’t like it, you’d already know.”
