My office. Now.
My stomach drops to my shoes.
I stand, smoothing my silk charcoal grey skirt paired with a burgundy blouse that Gretchen swears makes me look competent and slightly dangerous. I need both right now.
The few steps from my office to his feel like a walk to the gallows. My reflection in his mirrored window shows a woman who looks calmer than she feels. Good. Fake it until you make it.
His assistant waves me through without looking up.
I knock once on his door.
“Come in.”
Daniel is standing at his desk, my presentation open on his laptop. His face might as well have been carved with stone. The morning light streaming through those ridiculous windows turns his dark hair almost black, highlighting the sharp angles of his face.
I hate that I notice. I hate that my body still remembers what those hands felt like.
“Ms. Rodgers.” He gestures to the chair across from him. “Sit.”
I sit, spine straight, hands folded in my lap.
He turns the laptop toward me. “Walk me through your concept.”
I lean forward slightly, grateful for solid ground. “The Harrington brand currently comes across as cold. The sharp lines and monochrome palettes were hemorrhaging younger clients to competitors who feel more accessible.”
He says nothing but watches me with those stupidly beautiful dark eyes of his.
“I kept the sophistication they’re known for but softened it. As you can see, I used a warmer color palette: sage green, dusty rose, and cream instead of plain white. The new logo maintains the serif font but adds breathing room. It says luxury, but it also says welcome.”
I click through the mockups, moving through the website designs, branded materials, and environmental graphics for the hotel lobbies.
“The tagline I’m proposing: Where elegance meets ease. It positions them as aspirational but attainable.”
Silence.
He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers, studying the screen. My heart hammers against my ribs.
“The technical execution is flawless,” he says finally.
I wait for the but. There’s always a but.
“The color choices are on-trend. The typography is clean. Your mockups are professional.”
“Thank you.”
“But the creative flourishes are unnecessary.” He taps the screen. “This illustration work in the margins is distracting. The handwritten font in the tagline reads as unprofessional. And this—” He zooms in on a subtle watercolor effect I'd spent hours perfecting behind the text. “This is decoration.”
Wow.
“With respect, you’re wrong.”
His eyebrows lift fractionally. “Am I?”
“Those ‘flourishes’ are what make the brand memorable. They separate Harrington from every other boutique hotel doing the same minimalist aesthetic. Design isn’t just about clean lines and safe choices. It’s about making people feel something.”
“Feelings don’t close deals.”
“Actually, they absolutely do.” I lean forward, warming to the argument. “People don’t book hotels based on logic. They book based on emotion. They want to feel welcomed, valued, and special. That watercolor effect you hate? It's a subtle luxury. It says we care about details. The illustrations add personality without being overwhelming. And the handwritten tagline creates intimacy.”
