He stares at me blankly.
I shift on my feet, trying not to wince at the pinch of pain from the heels. My sister was right. I should have gone with flats. “You know. The author?”
He remains silent because, of course, he wouldn’t know who Charlotte Brontë is. I’d taken a class on her work in college and developed an interest in her novel,Jane Eyre. Maybe because her character is an orphan girl too, simply trying to survive in a world that tries its best to chew her and spit her out.
I swallow nervously. “Not that there’s any relation,” I babble, waving my hand in the air. “I don’t think there is, anyway. I’ve never done a DNA test or anything, but—”
“What the fuck happened to your shirt?” he asks, cutting me off.
I stop yammering and flinch when I remember what I must look like. A mess. All that work I’d done this morning was for nothing thanks to the wet stain. “Uh, I had an unfortunate incident with my coffee on the way to the meeting.”
Our client stares at me for a moment longer before turning his chair toward Janel with skepticism written all over his face. “You expect me to believeshe’sput together enough to be on my case? My manager said your agency was the best possible team to help me wipe my slate clean. She can’t even carry a cup of coffee without messing up.”
I withhold from dropping my jaw at the asshole who clearly isn’t going to offer me the same courtesy of a judgment-free zone. “I was attempting not to get run over by a scooter. I’d like to see twenty-six if I can help it.”
He deadpans before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Christ. They hired a child to clear my name.”
This guy has got to be kidding me. “I’mtwenty-five,” I inform him firmly. “I’ve got a dual bachelor’s degree in public relations and online media management. The reason Janel hired me as a communication strategist is that I’m qualified for the job and know what I’m doing.”
Janel pats my arm in comfort before lowering her palm. “I can assure you, Mr. Moskins, that you’ll be well taken care of. Winter was hand-selected for this specifically. Her ties to the community will enable us to provide the best results for your predicament.”
He leans back in his chair and studies me carefully. I can’t quite tell what color his eyes are—they aren’t entirely blue but mixed with gray. What I can tell is that they’re intense. I don’t know what he’s looking for or what he sees, but I can tell he isn’t impressed.
The feeling is mutual.
“Look,” I tell him honestly, “I may not be what you were expecting, but I’m probably what you need. Because who better to take charge of your persona than a millennial girl who grew up in the digital age? I know exactly what people want to see, and it’s not”—I wave a hand in his general direction—“this. Clearly, your charming personality isn’t winning you any favors, or you wouldn’t be here. So you can either sit down and listen to our pitch, or you can walk out and find another agency with half the reputation that we have.”
Janel stills beside me, but she doesn’t speak up or scold me. Instead, she lets Thomas Moskins mull it over. Maybe I could have been alittlenicer in my delivery, but I don’t owe him anything if he’s going to be a dick to me.
And, frankly, I’m not lying. Starrs Strategy has won numerous awards since Janel started it almost ten years ago. Her client list is expansive, and the connections she has with agents and managers means that our clientele will grow. She’s trusted not only in Fairbanks but on the whole East Coast.
It feels like far too long before the slowest grin curls up the right side of his mouth. “Okay,” he says, leaning forward and resting his crossed arms on the edge of the table. “You’ve got my attention, kid. Better make the most of it before I lose interest and find someone else.”
I don’t let him bait me with his nickname. “I saw the way you looked at my chest,Mr. Moskins. You don’t think I’m a kid at all.”
His shoulders square back, but he remains silent as I sit beside Janel and open up the folder she collected on the notes and previous calls she’s had with his team.
Eventually, he mumbles, “I was looking at the stain.”
We both know that’s a lie. “You can call me Winter since we’ll be working together.” I scan over the notes my boss gatheredover the past month, leading up to this meeting. It’s no wonder his agent reached out to us to help bring him back in favor with people. He’s got quite the rap sheet going for him.
Adultery.
Rumored divorce.
Public indecency.
Public intoxication.
Career probation.
I look up at him through my lashes. “It looks like you have a stain too,” I note. His eyes go down to his shirt in confusion. Before he can say anything, I continue. “Lucky for you, I can fix yours. It’ll take time, but if you want to win back the trust of your new team, you’ll have to let someone take control.”
When I meet his eyes, his bluish-gray hues flash with something unreadable that tightens my stomach. “And you’re the type of woman to take control?”
From kid to woman.
Interesting.
