The receptionist smiles. “Can I help you?”
“Eliana Thompson,” I say crisply. “I have an appointment with Mr. Byrne.”
“If you’ll just have a seat,” she replies in a smooth, cultured voice. “Mr. Byrne is finishing up with another appointment.”
“Another ad pitch?” I guess cheekily with a lopsided grin.
The receptionist glances at the door to her right, which must be where Mr. Byrne’s office is, and back to me before nodding with a conspiratorial grin. “He only chose two companies to meet with. Carson Dell and—”
“Prima Design,” I state confidently. It’s the only other ad agency in Seattle that rivals ours.
The receptionist winks, but then she whispers, “I’m sure your pitch will be far superior, though.”
“Thanks,” I say with a big smile. I love women holding up other women, and she’s right… mine will be far superior.
While Prima is good, their execs are getting lackluster in their ideas. The last several times I’ve gone up against them, I’ve walked away with every single deal.
I move over to the couch, perch my butt on the edge, and cross my legs. I don’t even bother pulling out my iPad to go over my pitch; instead, I scroll my text messages. One of my girlfriends is asking to meet for drinks after work, which is a possibility. Dana is a hoot to hang out with.
A text from Josh, inviting me to dinner at his place.
Which really just translates into, “I’ll order some Chinese, and we’ll fuck all night”.
That has equal appeal as Josh is a stud in between the sheets, and he’s happy with this being a friends-with-benefits relationship, same as me.
Except… I can’t even say we’re friends. More like just fuck buddies, I guess.
I shoot Dana a text to tell her I have to work late, and another at Josh telling him I’ll be at his place by seven and I want extra steamed dumplings.
The door to Mr. Byrne’s office opens, and I stuff my phone in the side pocket of my briefcase, uncross my legs, and angle myself that way to see who from Prima will be coming out that door.
I hope it’s Steve Polsby. He’s the most arrogant of that lot, and he’s a complete misogynist. He cannot stand women in his industry.
“Thank you again for your time,” a deep male voice says from just inside the doorway and out of my line of sight.
Another replies, “Your presentation was incredibly good. I’ll be in touch.”
I scoff. Yeah, to tell you the contract is going to Carson Dell.
I have to suppress a snicker and school my features into a pleasant smile as the Prima exec walks out the door and it closes behind him.
For a moment, time seems to stand still as I take in the tall man with wide shoulders, dark brown hair that’s wavy and worn a little too long for modern standards, and piercing green eyes.
When time moves, I find myself slightly dizzy as I stare with astonishment at the Prima ad exec.
Ronan Myers.
I ignore how hot he looks in his suit, and I most definitely give no acknowledgment to the superior smile that comes to his face—lighting up those green eyes—as he sees me.
I stand confidently from the couch, bringing my briefcase with me. Ronan takes a few steps my way, letting his gaze roam slowly down my body and back up again before he gives me a distasteful smile. “Eliana. Fancy running into you here.”
“My exact thoughts,” I reply stiffly. “Last I heard, you were working in New York at McNaught.”
Ronan shrugs carelessly. “Thought I’d try the West Coast for a while.”
Just fucking great. The man I probably hate most in the universe is here in Seattle. Being in his presence makes me nauseous. By the distaste in his expression, he feels the same, but that’s the way it’s been for an exceptionally long time.
Ronan throws his thumb over his shoulder at the office of Carrick Byrne. “I wouldn’t bother putting too much effort into your pitch. I’ve got this one wrapped up.”
“In your dreams,” I reply, lifting my chin up, eyes sparkling with challenge. “Prima hasn’t beaten my firm out of a bid in forever. I hope you don’t mind the bitter taste of loss.”
Stepping in closer to me and lowering his voice so the receptionist doesn’t hear the derision in it, he murmurs, “You’re kind of cute when your ego comes out to play. But we both know you’re a has-been. A wannabe. In fact, everyone in our circle knows you’ll never amount to much either here or back home. But yeah… cute that you still think you can be good at something.”
A low growl rolls in my chest, but I suppress it. He’s trying to goad me into a reaction, and I won’t give it. I’ve learned how to let those things roll off my back because people like Ronan mean nothing to me.