“That’slovely, Miss Hillard. And you, Miss Ford?” He turned his attention to me. “How was your weekend?”
I lowered my hands to my lap, regretting the lotion that was now drenched in my sweat. “Good morning, sir. It was fine, thank you.”
He smoothed his silk green tie against his chest and cleared his throat. “Miss Ford, I was wondering if we could talk in my office?”
I swallowed,half expecting my chickpea breakfast to rise in my throat and splatter my keyboard. Ignoring the ringing in my left ear, I plastered a calm smile on my face and nodded. “Of course, sir. Is nowa good time?”
“Now is perfect.” He turned on his heel and began walking.
I scrambled to my feet, snagging my binder and two pens.
Martha caught my eye as I walked past her, a confused frown on her face.
I could feel everyone’s gaze on my back as we passed by, no one daring to utter a syllable. It was torturously silent, the only sounds being Craig Sterling’s heavy steps and the sharp click of my four-inch, crisp white heels.
My mind raced to the last project I hadsubmitted. Was there inaccurate data? Was it not the subject I was assigned? The promotion I had been planningon in eight months was suddenly a distant dream. I was fired for sure.
He turned the corner and opened his thick oak door for me. I thanked him and walked in, my breath taken from my lungs as I looked at the stunning view of the city. His office was three times bigger than the one Martha and I shared with our team.
I took a seat across from his black stone desk, opening my binder and holding my pen at the ready. He shook his head and gestured to the couches beside the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Oh no, Miss Ford. Please relax.”
I walked to the couch and sat, feeling my good posture disappear into the deep cushions.
He sat across from me, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. “Miss Ford, thank you for coming in. I’ll get straight to the point. We’ve landed a new client: Agri-Corp. They’re the powerhouse for agricultural equipment. They’re a legacy brand, very solid, but their market research shows they’ve been seeing a shift in brand perception.”
I nodded, scribbling a few notes on the blank sheet. My guard fell slightly. He was speaking my language, calming myanxiety with shop talk.
“Their core audience feels a disconnect. They’ve been an institution for over three decades, but they want to remind people of their roots. They’ve decided their flagship sponsorship for the year will be something big. They want something that will get them back to their roots, not back to boardrooms.”
The page in front of me was filling up quickly. I underlined the line “back to their roots” three times.
He leaned forward and smiled. “That’s where you come in, Miss Ford. The team and I have been discussing it, and we all agree that you’re our best and brightest when it comes to attention to detail.”
I was practically glowing with pride, my chest swelling. I could see it, a presentation perfect enough to get the entire board’s attention. If it took weeks to complete, I didn’t care. I could do whatever it took.
“We want you to be head of the project; in fact, I want to see what you could do as the head of a team.”
The head of the team? Not having to argue about precise little decisions, such as picking a font? Spending as much time as I wanted on every slide?I was sold on every single aspect. “Sir, that would be an honor,” I said, placing a hand over my heart.
He grinned. “I’mglad you think so. Miss Ford, if you nail this project like I think you will, you’ll be placed on the board with us. You’ll no longer be just a ‘marketing exec.’ You’re going to be a marketing director.”
My eyebrows shot into my hairline. “But sir, that’syourjob.”
He shrugged and chuckled. “I’m getting promoted. You’remy first choice to take my place.”
Icould’vecried in that moment, I was so happy. The pen was quivering in my hand, not able to contain my pure joy. “You have no idea what this means to me, sir.”
“Well, let’s get into the project, then, shall we?” Mr. Sterling reached into his briefcase and laid a stack of papers, a magazine, and tickets on the coffee table. “They’ve decided to be the title sponsor of the National Rodeo Tour.”
The pen fell onto the tile floor. I didn’t bother to look where it landed. My left ear was ringing, and I could feel the sweat beginning to form on my hands. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your assignment is to embed yourself. To get down and dirty. You will be traveling with them for the remainder of the tour.”
Chapter Two
The quiet elegance of the restaurant, paired with an exquisite meal, a quiet jazz song playing on the grand piano, and a stunning date was something that had been highlighted in my calendar for a week. It was something I had been looking forward to; now, all I wanted to do was go home and sink my problems in a bubble bath.
I pushed the noodles around my plate and tried to ignore the heavy rock sitting in my stomach. I sighed and took a long sip of cold water, hoping it would snap me out of the mood I was in.
