Page 3 of Thiago
Chapter Two
When a firm knock sounded on the door, Thiago was behind his desk. “Come in,” he called.
India Monroe, vice president of marketing for the United States, marched into his office as if she owned it, and his body thrummed with awareness. Flanked by two members of her team, she moved with the confidence of a woman who knew her worth and had the results to back it up.
Her short hair was cut in a fade, the glossy tendrils brushed flat to frame her striking face, highlighting her high cheekbones. As usual, she was dressed to the nines in a monochromatic designer outfit. Today, she wore a tailored ivory blazer cinched at the waist, paired with an ivory button-down and ivory slacks that elongated her graceful figure.
Except for the small gold hoops in her ears, she was a no-frills woman. Sleek and well put together. Polished. Sophisticated. But not cold. No, she was smoking hot and had a friendly smile when she chose to use it. She didn’t wear much makeup on her chocolate-brown skin, but her lips popped with a deep berry color, bold without being loud. On her feet were pointed heels, which added a couple of inches to her fit frame.
India hadn’t said a word yet, and already the temperature in the room had shifted. The faintest flicker of something warm tightened Thiago’s chest, and excitement made the pulse in his wrist pound faster.
He rose from his chair. “Is this everyone?” he asked.
“Yes,” India replied.
She seemed to look through him, with a gaze as powerful as her presence. Direct. Discerning. Unbothered.
No one would ever guess the transformation that took place when she was beneath him, thighs shaking to let him know he was doing a good job. Heat surged low in his gut as an erotic image flashed in his mind—his fingers curled around her throat, lust filling her eyes, and her cool voice turning warm as she panted through an orgasmic release.
Thiago forced himself to keep his mind on business as he followed the marketing team to the conference table, which was not easy. India always smelled so damn good, no matter the time of day. A couple of months ago, he had learned that his favorite scent layered beneath her perfume came from honeycomb soap. The light fragrance was sweet and feminine and damn near made him salivate. Lucky for him, it was the only soap she seemed to use lately.
Thiago sat at the head of the conference table while India sat at the other end.
“What do you have for me?” he asked, keeping his voice crisp.
“We’ve completed our market research for Santiago Migos and prepared preliminary projections for capturing some of their market share,” India replied.
Two weeks ago, a scandal rocked the tequila industry. Lab tests from a competitor—Santiago Migos—had shown a significant amount of the alcohol came from cane sugar instead of the agave plant, though they claimed it was crafted from 100 percent pure blue agave. That prompted a class-action lawsuitand presented an opportunity for Don Bene to grab market share.
India glanced at the younger woman to her left—Beth Ann, a redhead who had come to work for them from a prestigious firm up north.
Thiago listened as Beth Ann gave an update on the lawsuit and then launched into the demographics of their competitors’ customers. While she talked, Thiago flipped through the packet in front of him, which provided additional details.
Then their male colleague, Stefano, discussed projections for taking over the Santiago Migos market share, as well as a preliminary marketing strategy. Thiago’s eyes flicked over the illustrations Stefano handed him. When he finished talking, India gave a short wrap-up, stating a six- to eight-month timeline for seizing their competitor’s territory.
Thiago tossed the presentation and marketing collateral on the table. Looking at each of them in turn, he said, “Not good enough. We cannot assume we have time to win over their customers simply because they are preoccupied with fighting the lawsuit.”
India responded. “I don’t disagree, but their problems give us an edge. We currently have the second-highest market share for premium tequila, and?—”
“I want their market share now, not eight months down the line. I want results by the end of the next quarter.”
Beth Ann quietly gasped, and Stefano’s eyes widened. They both looked at India. The end of the next quarter would be June—four months away.
India folded her hands on the table. “That’s extremely optimistic. We haven’t finalized our marketing plans yet, and then we have to prepare collateral, work on commercials and social media. The rollout will take time.”
“We do not need a rollout. For all we know, the lab results could be wrong, and they might be able to prove the discrepancy was all a big mistake.”
“You don’t really believe that,” India said.
“What I believe is irrelevant. The point is, a slow rollout is a mistake. We need to hit hard and fast while they stumble around trying to deal with this mess.”
“The tequila market is huge. If we move fast?—”
“Are you saying you cannot meet my deadline?” Thiago cut in.
Silence filled the room, and he saw the subtle shift in her already excellent posture as her back straightened. One thing was for certain, India never backed down from a challenge.
“We can meet your deadline,” she said, resorting to her frostiest tone.
