Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I scan the room, making sure everyone is here. Peyton doesn’t come to these meetings, because they’re more about what’s happening for the week than strategic planning.
Just like everyone else sitting in their seats, coffee in hand, a dreaded look on their face, I hate these meetings, but it’s necessary to go to them.
We always start with a round-table shout-out, so if someone has something interesting to say that pertains to the company, they can speak up.
Employees take that time to discuss if they used a certain product over the weekend or if someone reached a milestone working for the company, light and fluffy shit that I don’t care about but I know helps the morale of the company.
I take a seat, cross my ankle over my knee, and nod at the woman sitting close to me. Andrea I think is her name.
“Start us off with the shout-out.”
Smiling brightly, she nods her head and starts talking about the new women’s line, how she used one of the sweat-proof long-sleeved tees, and how amazing it was and comfortable.
Okay, I like to hear that kind of shit.
Next, it’s George. The only announcement he had was his wife made brownies again, and they’re on the marketing floor if anyone wants any.
Lauren will be sneaking down later to snag one for me. Those brownies are lethal. I eye Lauren who gives me a conspiratorial wink.
And we go down the line. Some people don’t have anything to say while others talk about meaningless shit until the shout-out stops at a redhead I’ve seen before but never in these meetings.
Who is she again?
Waving, she says, “Hi, I’m Sasha, and George invited me up to this meeting, because I have some rather interesting news to share.” Her voice is fucking awful, all high-pitched and squeaky. The less she talks, the better.
“Go on.” I motion with my hand.
Showing no nerves, she says, “You know how we had that leak this weekend over the line of hats in our women’s wear line?”
Don’t get me fucking started on that. Thank God I don’t care too much about the hats. We have four options, and that’s it. The hats aren’t going to make or break the launch, but it was annoying as shit when Project Mountain announced a hat line yesterday.
“Yeah,” I push her to go on.
“Well, I think I found the leak.”
Okay, now we’re onto something. She nods to someone who’s standing by the lights of the conference room. The room turns dark, and the TV screen lights up with pictures.
“I took these this weekend. I thought I was seeing things at first, but once I got closer, I was blown away.”
The pictures are shit. It looks like a bunch of people sitting outside at a dog café, having breakfast.
But then she scrolls to the next one, and that’s when my heart catches in my chest and my blood starts to boil. Immediately, Hunter’s hand goes to my shoulder, trying to calm me.
Sitting, legs crossed, laughing with a cup of coffee in hand, is Peyton, dressed fucking professionally and talking to Lance Holiday, the CEO of Project Mountain.
What the actual fuck?
“For those of you who don’t know, I took Peyton’s job in social media at Roam, Inc. when she resigned. She’s now working on our women’s line and running the entire marketing campaign. So you can imagine my surprise when I saw her talking to Lance.” She flips to another slide. They’re both looking at a mock-up, and she’s pointing at it while he’s listening intently.
I feel physically ill as Sasha continues to flip through, picture after picture, every single one of them like a nail to my fucking heart.
How could she do this to me? To Roam, Inc.?
I know she was desperate for a job, but that desperate to betray me?
She was so passionate about beating Project Mountain, but has she been double-crossing me this entire time?
I don’t fucking get it.
Pushing back from the table, I stand from my chair and say, “Meeting is canceled.”
I storm out of the conference room and to the elevator where I rapidly punch the down button with my index finger. Heavy footsteps chase after me, and I don’t have to look to the side to figure out who it is.
“Dude, there has to be an explanation.”
“Like what?”
Hunter’s silent, trying to think of anything to give her a get-out-of-jail-free card. I wish I was trying to think of the same thing, but all I can see are those damming photos. All I can see is the woman I have trusted with everything, smiling at someone I consider my biggest rival. No, I can’t see an explanation at all. “I don’t know, but before you blow up on her, why don’t you take a second to calm down and try to think about this rationally.”
The elevator dings and I walk inside, pressing the lobby floor button.