“You’re an exceptionally beautiful woman, and I know several reputable companies that would love to work with you.”
“The Hunks dance for women!” she spits out, like I’m an idiot.
“And you’ve been living with them for a few years now. Do you even realize how interesting you are? Few women could handle being in your position, and yet you navigate the situation masterfully.”
“Can you just say really quickly what you want? Because I’d rather be asleep than listen to you for even a second longer?”
“I think you have what it takes to be a successful social media influencer, and I’m not the only one who believes this. Gliver would like to gift you with a whole new wardrobe, and just hours ago, Quantum Decay asked where to send their products for you to try out. You’ll have to sign a few contracts, but the terms are in your favor. I made sure of that.”
“That’s impossible.”
“How is it impossible?”
“One Gliver dress is worth…shit?—”
“Five thousand dollars,” I say matter-of-factly. “And I imagine they’ll send quite a few.”
She looks at Carl, who’s sitting back, observing the conversation. He’s clearly protective of the younger woman, which is sweet considering the men I’m used to dealing with.
Vanessa looks over at me, her face twisting in confusion. “Why?”
“Because I’m not the devil you think I am. I’m a whole different beast entirely. I care about my work and perform my job to perfection. If you agree to play this role, you’ll garner a significant following and will elevate the Hunks to a status they’ve not yet achieved.”
She looks back at Carl and gestures to me. “Is this real?”
“She’s only been working for me a few short days, and she’s hit more than one home run.”
“Why haven’t you told anyone?”
“Because my business is an offshoot of my father’s, and he wouldn’t agree with me representing the Hunks.” It’s a lie, but she has no reason not to believe it.
She nods slowly.
“Are you interested in working with me?” I ask.
“Sure, I guess.”
I pull out my phone and begin typing an email. “I’m sending you instructions. Basically, you’re going to think up a catchy name, approved by me, and then you’re going to create social media profiles to go with it. Each day, you’ll have instructions on what to post and where. If you have questions, text me, but please, keep what you’re doing under wraps until we’re ready to make an announcement. That includes keeping it from Natasha. Are you okay with that?”
She looks down nervously. “Yeah…”
“Oh, and one more thing: stop treating Toxic like shit, and if anyone else dares to look at him crossly, you’ll give them the business.”
“But I’m not allowed to tell them why you’re here?”
“Why does that matter?” I ask in an accusatory tone. “Toxic is a good man and shouldn’t be treated like a pariah to those he’s been nothing but kind to.”
The stricken look on her face tells me I’ve driven my point home.
“You know I hate drama,” Carl says, but the look on his face doesn’t convey confidence. He’s grimacing and clutching his stomach like he’s holding in a fart.
His throat jumps, and it clicks what’s about to happen.
I grab the waste bin from the side of his desk and rush it under him. He grabs the sides and vomits.
A moment later, I do too.
“Jesus Christ!” Vanessa snaps, covering her nose with her hand to abate the odor.
