I glance down at the picture again, taking in just how attractive the man is. Dagen Fox is by far one of the most eligible bachelors in this city, hell in the whole country. Rich, good-looking, and a philanthropist to boot. The man has it all. Except a wife, apparently. I can hardly go anywhere in this city without hearing about him. His name practically drips from every building, runs across every newspaper, and his hand is in every business that needs security. I’m surprised he hasn’t run for mayor, honestly, but he also doesn’t strike me as the kind that would enjoy that. Not that I know him personally. That’s just based off of hearsay. The revolving door of women who attempt to get a ring are always happy to speak of their pleasurable time with him, so there’s never an end to willing information. The man gets around.
Mr. Gray runs through the requirements and major information, but he doesn’t disrespect me by breaking everything down. He knows I’ll understand, and I won’t be doing this alone. I’ll have a whole team behind me. Once I’m dismissed, I stroll out of his office with the folder of information in my hands, flipping through the files. Fox Industries is primarily a security company, but they have their hands in many pots. Our project is a marketing plan for one of their newest security programs, one that uses AI to help with efficiency and planning, and is expected to take the security world by storm. Honestly, I’ve never seen such technology myself, and while I understand most of the information, there’s some of it I’ll have to ask for clarification on so I can properly market it. My strength lies in public relations and clearcut information, not necessarily in security.
My team is made up of three employees, but we have the rest of the office at our disposal as well should we need it. Two women, one man, all younger than me. When I appear with the folder in my hand and pull out the photo of Dagen Fox, the two women, Marie and Julia, visibly sigh.
“Bet that guy gets all the. . .” Kevin trails off when he realizes the words aren’t suitable for the workplace. “Yeah.”
“I don’t blame him,” Julia sighs again. “He’s dreamy. A single night with him would be worth it.”
“I don’t know if it’s exactly professional to discuss our client’s attractiveness,” I point out, glancing at the photo.
“So, you admit it,” Julia laughs. “He’s attractive.”
“I have eyes,” I reply with a chuckle. “And I’m certainly not blind. But we have to be professional, so his attraction doesn’t matter. We’re here to sell his new program, not offer ourselves up on silver platters.”
“Speak for yourself,” Marie mumbles before wiggling her eyebrows.
Despite her teasing, I know for a fact that she doesn’t mean the words. My team is nothing but professional, something I’ve learned the past week, and this won’t get in the way of our task. Mr. Gray wouldn’t have paired them with me on such a high-profile client otherwise.
“Well, past his unfortunate face,” I tease. “Has anyone come up with any ideas on how to market this new program to companies? We’re working business-to-business with this one, so we’ll have to change up some tactics to appeal to largescale corporations.”
We launch into a lengthy discussion about the ins and outs of marketing. We cover everything from billboards to curated gift packaging to showing off the security with a large exhibition. We have a large budget for this client, so the sky’s the limit. The number of zeroes on the budgeting paperwork nearly made my eyes bug, but I just barely managed to keep my cool. What I wouldn’t give for that kind of money.
A few hours later, we’re still sitting around the meeting table, taking notes and brainstorming. A knock on the door is the only interruption. Most of the time, when there’s a meeting in the room, it’s implied no one will knock unless it’s an absolute emergency. Brainstorming can sometimes be a finicky bitch and an interruption can be a roadblock for the next big idea. But when I look up to see who’s knocking, it’s to find a delivery man holding a bouquet of flowers rather than Mr. Gray with some insane emergency.
I tense at the sight of the bouquet even as Julia stands to go accept the flowers with a grin, clearly expecting them to be for her. My eyes dance over the red roses and white daises, the ones I’ve always hated. I break out in a cold sweat when Julia’s smile falls, and she turns toward me.
“They’re for you, Ava. Secret admirer already?” She looks for a card as she sits them in front of me but frowns. “No card. Someone likes being mysterious.”
But I’m just staring at the blood red roses, at the daisies I’ve always hated. They’re the same types of flowers Ric always brought home after he’d cheated and then blamed me for it. The same bouquet Ric always had waiting for me after he’d hit me. The scent of the roses hits me and my stomach roils. Oh god. Don’t get sick. Not here.
“No idea,” I croak, pushing them away from me. “You can have them.”
Julia brightens. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m allergic to flowers,” I lie, looking away from them and back to the folder in front of me. But I don’t really see the words, not until Julie picks up the vase and carries them back out to her desk, away from me, thankfully.
“What kind of secret admirer sends you something you’re allergic to?” Kevin asks, shaking his head. “Bad game.”
But I know the kind of person. I may not actually be allergic to flowers, but I certainly can’t stand a red rose or a white daisy anymore. And there’s only one person who’s ever given them to me. Those flowers arriving can only mean one thing.
My heart beats frantically in my chest.
Five
Ava
“You don’t know they’re from him,” Tonya says carefully when I pull her aside after I get home. She picked up Elsie from school and has been waiting at home for me to get off work. Before she could leave, I pulled her aside and told her my fears.
He’s found us.
“Trust me,” I rasp. “I know. They were the exact same flowers, Tonya. No one pairs red roses with white daises. I’m telling you. He knows at least where I work. Word travels fast in the tech industry. Being associated with Fox Industries must have done it. That has to be it.”
“How could he have found you so fast?” Tonya grunts. “You’ve barely worked for a week?—”
“He has connections,” I rasp. “Work connections and police connections. He’s got money, influence. It could have been as simple as him searching or hell, maybe he’s had a private investigator following me. He’s had some dealings with Fox Industries before. I don’t know for what, but right now, they’re also my client. That has to be the connection.”
Tonya runs a hand through her hair. “This is bad, Ava. I thought we were finally safe.”
