Page 15 of Perfect (mis)Match

“There’s a lot more to a campaign than a bunch of abstract ideas.” Vincent’s voice sharpened. “A campaign has to hitmetrics. You need to consider demographics, psychographics, market trends?—”

“And that’s exactly why I’m suggesting this shift. According to the last quarter’s market analysis, Millennials and Gen Z make up over seventy percent of the luxury fragrance market, and they buy products that evoke an emotional connection. They want products that grab their attention and make them feel something real and authentic. You know whatisn’tattention-grabbing? Doing the same thing over and over again. We’ve had this image out in the market for years now.”

“And everyone loves it,” Vincent shot back.

“Everyonelovedit,” I corrected. “You know what that means, right? That it’s just a matter of time before the competition copies it. Then not only will it not be fresh, but it won’t even be solely ours anymore. We’ll be defining ourselves by images that have become generic.”

Vincent tried to suppress his irritation. Eileen blinked, her expression unreadable. I had them.

Vincent’s jaw twitched. His voice came out tight.

“Let’s focus on the campaign, shall we?”

Eileen had clearly expected me to get raked over the coals, and this non-reaction made her smile falter for just a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features before she masked it with a crafted expression of approval. It was as if she was trying to play the role of supportive cohost while simultaneously assessing who would win this round.

When the meeting was finally over, I gathered my things and headed for the door, only to get chastised by the assistant forforgetting my fragrance sample stick at my chair. When I went back to grab it, Eileen was holding it and frowning at me.

“You’re new, so we’ll overlook all of these mistakes, Piper,” she scolded as she handed the stick over. “But from now on, remember your place. Don’t speak out of turn.”

It was as if she’d taken a page from the Prentiss Mercer playbook. Talking down to me, trying to box me into a specific role…I’d managed to leave home and get out from under his thumb, but I never expected I’d have to face the same sort of bullshit at work.

Maybe taking the job had been a mistake. The money was fabulous, but there was no way I was going to put up with someone treating me like shit every day. Freelance life was rough, but at least I was my own boss.

But then I thought of Darcy’s hopeful face when I’d revealed my new role at Summit and the money it would bring in. This job would hold us over as we waited for an influx of support from Mercedes, and it would allow us to place our first major order that would carry us through our first year, if all went according to projections. I was taking hits for the greater good.

I could deal with it, at least for a little while.

I trudged back to my desk with my head down, feeling defeated because both the woman I reported to and the man in charge had it out for me.

My phone buzzed with a text. I assumed it was Darcy since it was her usual midday check-in time, and I needed a shot of her positivity to make it through the rest of the day, so I immediately checked the screen. When I saw who the text was from, I let out a groan.

Matthew, the personI’dconsidered a boyfriend but who had actually laughed while telling me I was nothing more than a booty call to him. Our breakup had been humiliating, and when I walked away from him, I’d told him to delete my number.

Clearly, he hadn’t listened. What the hell did he want?

Hey you. Been thinking about you a ton lately and that has to mean something. Let’s grab coffee and catch up.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Yeah, right.

The breakup with Matthew put me off dating to the point where I didn’t even want to consider it. I’d trusted him, and really started to fall hard, only to find out I’d misread our whole relationship. The signs had all been there; I’d just been too wrapped up in the fantasy I’d built up in my head to read them. In retrospect, I felt stupid. Why did I think his late night “you up?” texts meant he actually cared about me? Was I that desperate? It had taken running into him on the street on a Friday night, in a suit with a gorgeous woman on his arm, for it to dawn on me. They were on their way to a play, and I was in sweats carrying takeout for one. Mortifying.

I didn’t even allow myself to consider that maybe he’d realized he’d lost a good thing and was reaching out to try again. Thinking like that—believing lies because they made me feel better about myself—was what had gotten me into that mess with him in the first place. I wasn’t getting back on that ride again. Definitely not with him, and maybe not with anyone until I was ready to see a relationship for what it was, not what I wanted it to be.

It was Friday, and the only thing on my calendar was a mercy-hang with Darcy. She had no shortage of dates, but she’d canceled her plans to try to cheer me up, knowing that my new job wasn’t off to a great start. Based on how the last meeting just went, I hoped she had a gallon of tequila waiting for me.

I shot Darcy a quick text, then got to work editing some of the test product shots I’d taken for the Summit website. I was so focused on my work I didn’t notice our internal messaging system blowing up until hours later. The internal lingo was hard to decode, but thanks to a link someone had included, I realized people were freaking out over the latest Château de Parfum campaign. I clicked on it and gasped.

Not only had they ripped off our entire Trio of Time collection campaign vibe, they’d even hired the same two models we’d used in our prior shoots.

Damn it. Shots fired in abigway.

My desk phone buzzed.

“Piper, Vincent would like to see you in his office,” his assistant Linda said in a strained voice.

I rubbed my forehead and heaved a sigh. What now?

It was my first time in his office, and I wasn’t surprised to discover that it was as darkly minimalistic as his clothing choices. I craned my neck to see if he had a roaring fire, candles, and altar in it, because it felt like the type of space where human sacrifices were made.

---