Beloved (Toni Morrison Trilogy #1)(8)



Taylor turns to me, giving me the remainder of the files and presentation boards she had mocked up. Her sweet, timid voice is now firm, making sure I’m ready. “Were you able to find out any more information on the CEO?”

“No. And I despise the secrets behind this account. I asked around again. All I found out was that Mr. Cole recently took over. Whoever was running things early on left, and the interim CEO didn’t want to stay on.” I let out a frustrated sigh.

Taylor and I scoured the Internet and questioned all our contacts to learn anything we could about Raven Cosmetics. The company is only about four years old, but they’ve changed CEOs three times already. Even so, they’ve grown extremely fast in the industry. They have a line of natural eye products that exploded and skyrocketed them to the top.

The rumors floating around are that when the first CEO and co-owner left abruptly, someone stepped in as acting CEO. I don’t know what happened with the acting CEO, but the silent partner, Mr. Cole, stepped in, apparently worried about the image of his company. As he should be. A young company needs to portray strength and consistency to its consumers and investors. That’s why they decided to seek out a publicist to help clean up their chaotic, and relatively unstable, image.

“It doesn’t matter, though. We’re the right firm. Despite the lack of information, we’ll still have the best strategies,” I say. I straighten my back, gathering my confidence as I go over my notes, making sure I’m fully prepared.

“Agreed. Time to get going. Your cab’s waiting. By the way, I wasn’t able to find out who’s representing Boyce PR. My friend said the original rep got sick and they’re sending someone else in their place.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. It doesn’t sit particularly well with me, but there’s nothing I can do about it at this point. I collect my things and head for the elevator. “As always, you amaze me. Wish me luck!” I say over my shoulder.

“Good luck! Even though you don’t need it. You’ll be great!” she shouts behind me.

On the ride to the lobby, I can’t stop my mind from wandering to the fact that Neil works for Boyce. Over the years, it was part of what solidified our relationship—us both working in the same field. We understood each other’s need to be number one and how demanding the industry is. There was friendly competition between us, but more than anything we supported and encouraged each other, even sharing tips and ideas. It was fun talking about our day and what accounts we were working on. At least, I thought it worked well. Maybe that was why Neil did what he did. Maybe his tiny ego couldn’t handle his future wife being better in business than he was. Or it could be he’s just a f*cking cheater.

He sent another text yesterday about needing to get a deposit back from the reception hall. Apparently, they won’t refund him the money. I don’t know why he thinks I care. I lost money too. If anyone should be trying to recoup their losses, it’s me. I’ve been a bitch, then nice, then I ignored him, but the texts haven’t stopped. I’m beyond irritated. And, of course, my phone has been chirping all morning. Against my better judgment, I decide to check it.

Neil: We should talk. See you soon.

Me: No, Neil, I won’t see you soon. Stop messaging me.

Neil: I’m sorry, Cat.

I have no idea why he’s apologizing. Games—all he does is play games. I hate him for everything he’s done and all he keeps doing. I’d like to put this behind me, but he continues to infiltrate my life.

The elevator dings and I walk out toward the waiting car, pushing thoughts of Neil out of my head as I get in the cab. I have a good feeling about today. I’m dressed in my favorite outfit—a black pencil skirt that ends right at my knee, my white blouse tucked into my skirt, and my favorite pearl earrings and necklace. My red heels finish off the ensemble. They’re a power color, which is what I exude in the boardroom. As we near the building, I grab my purse and pull out my compact, checking one last time to make sure my makeup is flawless. The cab stops. I put my compact away, swipe my credit card, and head in to Raven Cosmetics’ headquarters.

Heading straight for the receptionist, I introduce myself, “Hi, I’m Catherine Pope from CJJ PR. I have a twelve o’clock meeting.”

“Yes, Ms. Pope, they’re expecting you. I’ll bring you right back.” She smiles and walks me to the conference room.

“Thank you so much,” I say as she retreats back to the reception area.

Steeling myself, I place my hand on the door handle. The scent assaulting my senses stops me dead in my tracks. I know that smell—clean soap and cologne. I’m instantly taken back to the night I fell into Jackson’s lap. It’s like I can feel his strong hands setting my body on fire, see his enthralling god-like face, as his eyes penetrate my soul. I shiver, trying to compose myself. I look around expecting to see him, but I don’t. Someone else must wear the same cologne. I’m dreaming. That’s what this is because there is no way in hell he’s here. I need to focus, but it’s kind of hard when my stomach is in knots. Shaking my head to release the memory, I draw a calming breath and open the door.

Entering the conference room, I look around, taking in the floor to ceiling windows, the long dark table, the small woman in a suit with short blond hair, and the two people talking over to the side near a refreshment area. All I can see of the two people is the man’s back, but as he turns his head his eyes lock on mine, and the past hits me all over again.

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