Page 50 of Click of Fate

I blink. “Did you hear the whole conversation?”

“No,” she says, flipping her clipboard over dramatically. “She was in here yesterday looking like she was up to no good. Plus, I’ve sat in enough panels and seen enough LinkedIn posts to spot a hard rebrand hustle from twenty feet away.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“She doesn’t take no for an answer,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck.

“She doesn’t really ask for it either.”

I glance at Maddie. “You know her?”

“Only because she introduced herself yesterday when I intercepted her before she could make it down the hall to the offices. And from the way she once tried to casually follow me on Instagram… twice.”

I blink. “Twice?”

“She unfollowed when I didn’t follow back. Then tried again a couple months later. Classic alpha-marketer panic move.”

I chuckle again. “I didn’t bring her in.”

“Oh, I know. You don’t do passive-aggressive power plays.”

Maddie grabs a granola bar from the counter stash and peels it open.

“She commented on our wall signage,” she says, voice flat.

“Did she call it ‘clean, but missing a premium edge?’”

“Close. She said ‘visually welcoming but lacks a nationally scalable aesthetic.’”

I wince. “Ouch.”

“I told her our ‘visually welcoming’ approach was intentional. You know, people over polish, movement over metrics.”

I tilt my head. “And how’d she take that?”

Maddie smiles sweetly. “She said, and I quote, ‘That’s cute.’”

“That tracks.”

She takes a bite of the bar. “She told me you and her use to be a ‘thing’ but if she starts hovering, I reserve the right to accidentally spill coffee on her faux-suede boots.”

“Duly noted.”

She starts walking backward toward the gear closet. “And Luke?”

“Yeah?”

Her tone drops, serious now. “If she comes back, don’t let her make you doubt the space you’re building here. This place is good. You know it. I know it. Even she knows it. She just thinks she can repackage it.”

I nod, a small smile tugging at my mouth. “Thanks, Maddie.”

She tosses the wrapper into the trash and disappears through the walkway.

I take a breath, running my hand through my hair.

Fuck. I foresee the rest of the day to be just as challenging.

I make my way back to my office, needing minute to let the past thirty minutes settle in my brain.

---