by M. Malone
We’ve reached the gift shop now and I step back so Mya can enter before me. She has her small duffel bag thrown over her shoulder and looks like a college co-ed in her black yoga pants and long T-shirt. She makes a beeline for the right wall where all the toiletries are.
“Didn’t you say you needed a toothbrush?”
I shake my head. “I just said that so James would go up without us.”
“Right. Well, I actually did forget mine.” She grabs a blue toothbrush and then a package of over the counter sleeping pills. Then after a moment of hesitation, she grabs a package of potato chips and a candy bar.
When she sees me watching, a shy smile covers her lips. “For later. Once we nail this presentation to Mr. Lavin, I’m going to need to veg out for the rest of the night. I don’t travel well.”
“You don’t say,” I drawl before grabbing a bag of chips and a package of gum for myself. “But seriously, what’s the plan for tonight? Elizabeth is obviously on a mission to stick it to James, so she’s going to be fighting dirty. We need to be ready.”
She looks worried and for some reason I hate to see that look on her face.
“Hey don’t worry. I don’t think Mr. Lavin is looking for concrete plans yet. After all, he’s kept everything so hush hush about this deal that we don’t even know for sure that it’s a bridal line.”
Mya nods. “True. But I’m getting a bad feeling about this. Like maybe Elizabeth knows something we don’t.”
Despite my determination to stay positive, I’m pretty sure she’s right.
I dress carefully for dinner.
Not that I don’t put a lot of thought and attention into what I wear with every client, because I do, but this is Andre Lavin. The man doesn’t just set trends, he starts fashion movements. We’re going to this dinner to convince him that Mirage is the best choice for his company’s advertising and brand management but make no mistake, he’ll be checking us out as people too. My hand hovers over a maroon tie before coming back to the lighter one I’m holding.
The interior of his plane was gray so it’s probably not a completely wild guess to assume he likes neutrals. Now that I think of it, most of his runway looks are monochromatic as well. Hmmm. Making a quick decision, I grab the gray tie. It’s better to be on the conservative side until I’ve met him in person. My suit is already hanging in the closet, pressed and ready to go.
When I reach the lobby, the first person I see is Mya. My mouth drops open slightly. She turns and it’s like one of those scenes in a movie where time slows and birds start singing and shit. Her dress is one of those magical drapes that probably looks like a bag when it’s on the hanger but on her body, it wraps each curve lovingly. Most of the other women roaming the lobby are wearing skirts so short you can tell whether they wear G-strings or bikinis but Mya’s dress is long enough to completely cover her knees. Something about how she’s so demurely covered up but yet rocking such obvious curves is a total turn on.
No, not a turn on. We are not turned on by a co-worker.
My dick is not taking orders from my brain, as usual, so I button my jacket to give myself a little coverage. Not that it helps much but anything is better than greeting a client with an extra arm extended for a shake.
“You’re late,” is the first thing out of her mouth as I approach. But I don’t miss how her eyes roam up and down taking in the custom fitted suit and the bulge trying to bust through the seams of my pants to greet her. Her cheeks are slightly pink by the time she meets my eyes again.
If we weren’t about to meet with a major client I would tease her about checking out my package but this isn’t the time to get Mya riled up. I need her on her game tonight. So I just tap my watch.
“Five minutes early, beautiful.” The compliment slips out before I can question the wisdom of it but Mya visibly blooms under the attention.
“But the Lavin Team is already here which means, we are late.”
Since I’ve already thrown professionalism out the window, I gesture for her to spin around for me. After a slight pause she turns, giving me another glimpse of the round globes of her ass in the clinging material.
“You really are stunning, you know that?” It comes out more intense than I meant for it to but there’s no help for it now. She’s a vision and she should know it.
Mya bites her lip. “You don’t think it’s too short, do you?”
My eyebrows lift. “Short? It’s not even showing kneecap. Half the chicks in here are flashing their Brazilians in plain view.”
That gets a soft huff of laughter and the pinch in her forehead relaxes slightly. “Oh good. I didn’t think so but Will always said… well, never mind. I just like my skirts a little on the longer side.”
Translation, the dipshit she was once engaged to made her feel bad about showing off her gorgeous body.
Insecure assholes are always worried about losing the woman they’re with. Which should be a clue that they don’t deserve the lady in question, anyway.
Before I can tell Mya exactly that, James appears at her elbow. “Mr. Lavin and his team are already seated. Luckily, Kevin and the others were early enough to greet them.”
There’s a subtle warning in his voice. We should have been here early and been the first ones to greet the client. Mya catches my eye and I can see that she’s having the same thought. There’s no way we’re letting Kevin worm his way in on this account.
Time to get our game faces on.
As we approach the table, everyone stands and the introductions are made all around. Maybe it’s because I’m watching Mr. Lavin so closely that I see how his eyes follow Mya after she shakes his hand and then walks around the table to greet the other members of his team. She knows all of their names, as do I. Then she takes a seat right next to me.
Before I can even sit down, James is already ordering a scotch from the waitress. Then I see why.
Elizabeth is sitting two tables away.
She raises her glass of wine in our direction. I turn to see James give a begrudging wave. I’m not sure if anyone else has noticed her yet but she’s already accomplished her goal. There’s no way James can focus completely on the client tonight with his ex-wife sitting right in his line of vision.
Christ.
“Thank you all for traveling to meet with me. I’ve had this week scheduled with potential investors for months so it’s been helpful that you could come to me while I’m already in the States.”
“When do you go back to Italy?” Wallace asks. “I follow you on Instagram. You guys, his page is lit. Fast cars, beautiful clothes. You’re living the dream, man.” He sighs before digging into his salad course enthusiastically.
Andre just laughs. “Thank you. This is our goal, to be as the kids say fire. Why is all of the American slang centered around temperature, I wonder? It used to be that things were cool, now they’re hot, fire, bomb or lit. Fascinating. I have an entire team of people who study the social media trends.”
James looks like he has no idea what is happening. But I strongly suspect that Wallace in his own unique, bumbling way has just broken the ice for us.
Well, if he’s broken the ice, I might as well jump in first. “Mirage employs a lot of talented young designers. It’s why our ad campaigns are so on trend. We combine years of experience in understanding what makes people buy with the fresh perspective of different generations.”
Mya grins over at me. “Wallace is on Milo’s team. He’s been with us for almost a year now and graduated from Columbia with honors. He’s also an amateur photographer and is pretty popular on Instagram, too.”
I glance over at her. He is? How did she know all that? Maybe there is something to paying attention in those bullshit icebreaker sessions at work after all.
Wallace looks shocked, too. “My account is nowhere near the numbers some of my friends have. But I just passed ten thousand.”
Mr. Lavin actually looks impressed. “That’s quite an accomplishment, especially for a hobbyis
t.” He clears his throat. “I’m happy to meet with you all in person after hearing about you from Mr. Lawson.”
James gives him a tight smile. “I’m extremely proud of my team.”
“It shows,” Andre replies.
Dinner proceeds with the typical pleasantries. Wallace looks a little confused but I can only pray the kid can hold his tongue. With these types of clients, you never rush right into business. You need to woo them, almost like a woman you’re trying to convince to come back to your place after dinner. She’s not just going to come with you if you ask within the first ten minutes. She needs you to show her that you’re worth her time. Are you going to savor her the same way you do the ten-inch porterhouse on your plate? Or will you rush through the act like a kid scarfing down an ice cream cone?
I can’t imagine a man like Andre Lavin scarfing anything. He needs to see that we’re not only the best team to take over his marketing but also that we’re people he can work with.
We need him to like us.
As the waitress is clearing the entrees, Andre looks around the table with satisfaction. “Perhaps it is old-fashioned but I care to meet with any agencies that work on our marketing directly. It’s important that the people crafting our image understand what we’re about here at Lavin Fashions.”
Everyone instantly ceases their side conversations and pays attention. Now we’re getting to the good stuff. The reason we’re all here.
“What is your vision of Lavin Fashions, Mr. Lavin?” Mya asks. “I’ve read the official company mission statement but I would love to hear it from you.”
“Please, call me Andre.”
The way he’s looking at her makes it seem like he just wants to hear her say his name. My hand sitting on top of the table curls into a fist. It’s unsettling that this bothers me. He’s just a client, throwing a little charm at the pretty ad executive. I’ve seen it plenty of times and I’ve drawn my fair share of clients, male and female, flirting with me.
None of those made me want to growl in frustration. Or made me worry that Mya might actually want to flirt back.
“It’s much more than just the clothes,” Andre begins after a brief pause. “Our brand creates the garments that become part of people’s memories. And for our newest venture we’re looking for a partner that understands the importance of family, friendship, love.”
The woman sitting next to him sniffs. Cristiane Laveque. From my research on the Lavin team, I know that she’s a top designer for Lavin Fashions.
“Apologies but this is not a strength of American companies, we have found. So few understand l’amore.” She shakes her head ruefully as if the vulgar ways of the American market are just too much.
Mentally I’m rolling my eyes but this could be a real obstacle to winning their business. If they think that we’re not cultured enough, it will be difficult to change that opinion. Granted, Mirage does plenty of “American” commercials and brands, but it’s not like we’re all racecars and beer. We have plenty of upper echelon brands in the jewelry, hotel and entertainment industries.
“I believe Mirage can handle anything. We have such a diverse workforce that all of our clients find someone they can relate to. We also have more women in leadership roles than many of our competitors.”
Maybe that’ll calm her fears that we don’t get l’amore. Mya in particular handles a lot of brands that cater to women including a high profile lingerie line.
Andre sits back in his chair and seems to be considering her words. “I must admit we’ve been approached by other firms that are run by people who are married. They understand what brides want.”
James sits up straighter. “So, it is a bridal line?”
Andre laughs lightly. “Yes, the rumors are true. Lavin Fashions will introduce a new line called Lavin Bridal next year. It will be a separate division of the company which is why I’m meeting with investors. I didn’t want word to get out too early until it was all finalized.”
James looks like he’s going to be sick. This is why Elizabeth has been so smug. She must have heard the Lavin group wanted someone who has been through the process of planning a wedding. Just another way for her to rub her recent marriage in James’s face.
“I’m sure all the women on our team have mentally planned their dream wedding even if they aren’t married.” I send a panicked glance at Mya.
This would be a really good fucking time for her to pipe in with some story of how she’s been dreaming of her wedding dress since she was a little girl.
Unfortunately Andre seems to be following my line of thought because he turns directly to Mya, too. “If you were planning a wedding, for example,” he says, “wouldn’t you want a wedding planner who was married?”
Mya pauses with her water glass halfway to her mouth. “Well, yes. I suppose I would.”
James just blinks. Wallace pauses mid-chew with a piece of iceberg lettuce hanging from his lip. The whole table seems stunned into silence. She didn’t mean to say that, you can see it on her face. But in a rare, caught off guard moment, Mya had done the unforgivable.
Been honest.
An awkward silence descends over the table. James takes another gulp from his scotch. Across from me, members of the Lavin team exchange significant glances before taking an interest in their plates. Worst of all, Andre Lavin just looks amused.
While Mya looks devastated.
You know how sometimes you can look back on a moment and identify the precise moment you fucked up. Well, later tonight I’m sure I’ll be looking back and remembering the exact second I pushed us all off the cliff together.
“I agree,” I state loudly.
James chokes slightly and Wallace pounds him on the back. I ignore his panicked look and keep my eyes on Mr. Lavin.
“I agree with Mya,” I repeat in case anyone at the table missed it the first time I pushed my career in front of a bus. “Having a married wedding planner would be great. Although I’d be more concerned about the people actually doing the work. That’s really what sets Mirage apart.”
By now everyone is staring at me, especially James, probably wondering where the hell I’m going with this.
Mya however is watching me with a small, tremulous smile on her face. Like she can’t believe that I’m backing her up right now. And damn if that smile isn’t what does me in. Because I don’t just bet on distracting Mr. Lavin, I double down and take it all the way to the bank.
“Mirage is really the best fit for anything to do with weddings. After all it’s the only agency I know with two team leads that are in love and engaged to be married.” I turn to Mya and then whisper, “Just go with it.”
Then I tilt my head slightly and brush my lips over hers.
7
Everyone is staring. I can feel the heat of their eyes on the side of my face. But even that isn’t enough to take me out of this moment. This sweet, thrilling moment. My eyes drift closed and the world falls away.
Milo is kissing me.
If you’d asked me just an hour ago what kind of kisser I thought Milo would be, I’d have said aggressive. He’s all about going all in and getting to the finish line. I would have assumed that he wouldn’t care much about the process and only about the end game.
I would have been completely and utterly wrong.
His lips are soft and he feathers them over mine gently, barely touching me. The result is a whispery, soft touch that sends chills up and down my spine. Then he lays his mouth over mine and kisses me properly, his tongue brushing softly against mine.
After what feels like several hours but is probably only several seconds, he pulls back. But he doesn’t just stop. No, Milo can’t do anything simply, not even shocking me to my core with a kiss. Because right after he pulls away, he does this soft little nuzzle, rubbing his nose back and forth against mine.
Why is that my kryptonite? That completely unnecessary little snuggle just takes all the indignation I was building up to and scatters it to the wind. Along wit
h all rational thought.
A throat clears and it’s like jumping into an ice bath. If we’d been standing we’d have probably sprung apart but instead I grope the table blindly until my hand connects with my water glass. The cool liquid cools my throat but not my lust.
What the hell was that?
Everyone at the table is still eating and talking softly amongst themselves, almost like the last thirty seconds didn’t just change the rotational orbit of the planet. Isn’t it funny how a certain event can knock you off your feet but seems to have no effect on anyone else? It’s like experiencing an earthquake while everyone around you goes on with their lives unaware. Well, everyone isn’t unaware. Andre Lavin is watching us carefully.
So is James.
Oh shit.
This is where I should speak up. Tell Mr. Lavin that I cannot wait to see his newest designs, that women everywhere are going to be clamoring for the chance to wear one of his dresses. But I can’t because my mind is still muddled and I can still feel the imprint of Milo’s lips against mine.
“You make an interesting point, Mr. Hamilton. Being married is one thing but to have a couple currently planning a wedding designing my campaign would be ideal.” Andre nods in satisfaction. “I had a good feeling about this firm but I can see that your reputation is accurate. Professional, innovative and discreet. Exactly what I need.”
James looks slightly dazed, the same expression you might wear after you narrowly miss being hit by a cab. He looks between me and Milo and then back to Mr. Lavin but nothing comes out of his mouth.
Once again Wallace comes to the rescue. “You can’t go wrong with those two in charge if you’re looking for discretion. They’ve been dating in secret for ages and nobody knew except for me. I mean, I could tell. He stares at her ass whenever she walks away.”
The water I just sipped comes back up my nose. Milo hands me a napkin without missing a beat.
“Thank you, Wallace. So Mr. Lavin tell us about your vision for Lavin Bridal in particular.”