Page 27 of Billionaire Boss's One Night Stand

The elevator beeped before it opened, giving us all a purpose to enter and not pay attention to Tom. Loren didn’t. She seemed to use the sliding open doors as an excuse not to have to reply.

“Hmm?” Tom stood next to her, elbowing her gently.

“No, Tom,” she replied. How she could still be this good-natured about it and not snap at him was a miracle. She had the patience of a saint, putting up with his attempts for a date.

“It’s time to focus,” I reminded him. “We’re here for a meeting, remember?”

He smirked at me.

“Not to prioritize our personal schedule. You’re on the clock. So act like it.”

The more Tom tried to break Loren down to give him a chance, the more I realized I hated it becauseIwanted her. I regretted being unable to have another chance with her, to make our one-night fling something else. I doubtedtwonights would be enough, either.

I was careful not to come on too hard, though. I wanted to tell this man to stop bothering her, but I felt like I didn’t need to since she was taking it in stride and deflecting him herself, without my help. And if I were to tell him to leave her alone, would I be doing so because I was jealous and wanted her for myself? That wouldn’t be right, either.

Regardless, my warning to Tom stood. If any of them were distracted, it could cost us this meeting. We were all on the clock, and I expected all of us to act like it. This was go time, with not a second to spare for anything but concentration on the project.

We’d hammered down the details, arguing up until last night, actually about the colors and fonts in the presentation. Brad and Rupert seemed indecisive about some word choices, too. Yet, we’d compromised and prepared the show to share. Tom finalized the slides and ensured us that all of our meeting notes from the conference room yesterday would show in what we brought to the Gammon folks now.

By the time we reached the correct floor, Tom had toned it down. He could be a pain in the ass, too goofy and quick to show off for being the center of attention, but that also made him the opposite of me. I was often too stern, too serious, always uber-focused on work. For that reason, I didn't mind keeping him on select teams, aware that a balance for more laidback people could make us stronger as a whole.

The same logic applied to Loren, as well. She was sweet, polite, and super conscious of her words and mannerisms. Even though she held a mutual dislike for me, she was soft-spoken with others. Like John had implied, she was a natural at making people feel at ease.

It paid off for this meeting, too, and I was damned glad we had her to smooth out the edges of arrival. While introductions went well, I couldn’t help but notice that the representatives were all female. They gravitated toward her, and I knew that assigning her some speaking parts would help. I usually took the helm. I was great at public speaking, and I enjoyed the challenge of persuading prospective clients to listen to me and believe what I was selling.

Loren didn’t waver under the pressure of speaking in front of the Gammon reps, either, and it seemed like smooth sailing.

Until we got halfway through the presentation. We both stood at the front of the conference room, alternating our lines and pointing out the things we’d prepared so far.

But nothing seemed to be in sync. Wording had been changed, and we ended up talking over each other in our haste to correct what was supposed to be on the screen, but that turned into correcting each other or reminding the other about why we’d decided to revise any certain point.

The fucking colors weren’t consistent. All the fonts had been changed from what we agreed upon yesterday, and I quickly felt like an amateur. It didn’t help that Loren would try to charge ahead and put me inmyplace, telling me why we’d revised anything in the first place.

Rupert, Brad, and Eli noticed. They cringed and shook their heads slightly, as if giving me and Loren cues to watch our attitudes toward each other. We weren’t at our building. Our potential client was in our audience.

Tom couldn’t stop cringing. Every time I glanced at him, he was quickly scribbling notes, likely marking where he’d screwed up in the final prep stage of this show. Honestly, he wasn’t the only one at fault. We all were, collectively, but dammit, couldn’t Tom have checked things over to make sure it was consistent?

“As you can see, the traditional blue versus pink themes?—”

“Are outdated,” Loren inserted, smiling at the Gammon staff. One member, a redhead named Emily, nodded and grinned at her.

“And that’s why we are open to your input as to how strongly you want to portray the Gammon line as neutral or stick with more tradition. There are options…”

I sighed, giving in and letting her take charge. She was at ease, not at all thrown off by the awkward tension rising between us as we learned that our visuals weren’t what we thought they would be on the screen.

She made them laugh. Several asked follow-up questions, which we both answered. More than once, they complimented her on her clarifications and making the information we presented more “user-friendly” for them to digest.

I couldn’t be mad at her, not for slipping in to save the meeting with her casual go-get-’em mentality. While I was used to being the boss and taking charge, I felt like she’d proven more than her determination to focus on work. She’d shown how she could use her peppy, sunshiny personality to smooth out hiccups and make sure everyone was getting along and wanting to hear more.

Back at the office, though, I had to step up and point out where we could improve. I gave them credit. I never yelled at them out of any little dick energy or the need to feel bigger and superior to them. However, therewasroom for improvement.

Rupert and Brad also offered advice on where to fix things, and Eli spoke carefully without belittling his teammates. Tom took the blame, apologizing for mixing up the details in the “final” of the presentation.

“But…” He sat back and shrugged before rubbing his chin. “It’s not exactly easy to follow whatisthe final decision.” He tossed his pen to the notebook he’d been referencing on the table. “You challenge all of us on every little thing?—”

“That’s my job. To supervise,” I retorted.

“Or micromanage,” Loren tossed in, a little too sassily for my liking.

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