Page 164 of A Convenient Secret
I take my time looking around, resting my gaze on every single person in the room. In some ways, this is familiar. I sat in at these meetings when I was an intern. But as an intern, I sat in the corner, soaking it all in.
Now, I’m sitting at the head of the table. Equipped by my father’s advice, a lot of theoretical knowledge, and little practical experience, I try to lean into my drive to continue growing this company, because I have nothing else to back me up.
That drive surprised me, to be honest. I didn’t expect to care so much. I didn’t expect I’d take the job with such a sense of responsibility and purpose. If I wasn’t hurting so much, I would love it all.
Before, Liliana Spinelli took on her duty. Now, it’s different. My stay in the US, my quest for some resemblance of independence, allowed me to assess my options better. And I fucking love this opportunity.
I look down at my notes and start the meeting, ticking off the topics my father wants an update on. I ask questions and challenge the reports, but my game is fully orchestrated by my father.
Finally, we get to the end of the list, and I look at the last two items. Items I added there. I consider adjourning the meeting. Who am I to pretend I know better?
Can you be any more perfect?
“Before we wrap up, I have two more things. I would like to see at least three new directions for our Christmas advertising, because frankly, updating our print ad from the fifties with a modern housewife is embarrassing.”
The marketing director’s face reddens. “We have been successful with that image for years. It’s part of our brand. People expect it.”
“People who are our customers may take comfort in it, but it doesn’t speak to anyone else. It certainlydoesn’t speak to the younger generation. Let’s challenge the team to bring the campaign into the twenty-first century.”
Shocked faces stare at me. My heart beats so fast, they must hear it.
“Is this what your father wants?” the Head of Marketing scoffs.
“I’m the CEO at the moment, and that’s what matters. I want to see your proposals next week.”
He opens his mouth, but I turn to the head of HR. “I would like a proposal on how to create a more inclusive environment to attract female talent to the top positions at the company.”
I don’t know her, but she’s been silent at all the meetings, trying to blend into the background. A smile grows on her face at my words, and she nods.
“Okay then. Good job, everyone.” I stand up, my hands only slightly shaking.
The HR director approaches me. “I will send you my proposal today.”
I frown. “You knew I would ask?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I have tried to present it since I started a year ago.”
“I look forward to reviewing it.”
“It’s good to have you on board.” She leaves, and I smile for the first time in two weeks.
“Ms. Spinelli, I’m sorry, but Mr. Quinn is here,claiming he’s your husband.” My father’s assistant shrugs. “I told him that he has no appointment, but he just sits in the reception, refusing to leave. Should I call security?”
Her words penetrate my brain, and spread like a livewire dropped in water—sparking, hissing, sending shockwaves through every nerve.
My pulse trips, a wild rhythm of thrill and anxiety, while my stomach tightens as if bracing for impact. The rush is electric, overwhelming.
Heat spreads over my face as I try to find a regular rhythm for my breathing, and look like a reasonable person at the same time.
People who had booked a meeting here start wandering in, hesitating at the entrance when they see me.
“Right,” I croak. “Give me five minutes before you show Mr. Quinn to my office.”
I dash from the boardroom, forgetting my tablet and all my documents. Entering my father’s suite, I run for the bathroom.
Fuck, why didn’t I wear makeup? I’m dressed for the job, but my face looks like… well, like I haven’t slept, or taken care of myself.
I open the mirror cabinet, but of course my father doesn’t have blush or lipstick hidden here.
