Page 92 of Billionaire Bachelor
“Good. And let design know I want a fresh polish on the visuals. Olympus is a luxury brand, and we need our pitch to reflect that. Their last mockup wasn’t quite cutting it.”
“Of course.” He nods.
“Oh, and send a memo to legal. I want them to comb through every line one last time. One slip-up and the Control Board will bury our asses in red tape—something we obviously want to avoid. I expect their report on my desk by end of day Friday.”
“Got it.” Barry scrawls some notes on his tablet. “Anything else?”
“No, I think?—”
Before I can finish my sentence, there’s a single knock on my door before it swings open. Ryan steps inside, hands stuffed inside the pockets of his sharply tailored slacks.
He spots Barry and awkwardly clears his throat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Morning, Ryan. Have yourself a decent weekend?” Barry’s blueeyes twinkle as his gaze shifts my way. “Get up to anything…scandalous?”
Great subtly there, Bare.
Ryan frowns, looking between us. “Logan, you got a minute?”
I wave Barry off.
“And that’s my cue to leave you two to verbally eviscerate each other in private. I’ll just leave this door open a smidge and listen in, in case you need me for anything.”
“Your husband must have the patience of a saint,” I call out.
“You’re not wrong,” Barry singsongs.
Ryan closes the door behind my nosy assistant, shaking his head.
He exhales as he turns to face me.
I hold my palm out. “Look. If you’re here to ream my ass again, save it for after business hours, will you?”
His jaw flexes as he drops into a visitor chair in front of me. “That bruise still looks pretty gnarly. Did you put an icepack on it?”
For fuck’s sake. Why is everyone so obsessed with frozen water all of a sudden?
“I’ll live.” I shrug. “What’d you need, Ry?”
He shifts on his feet, nodding to my coffee cup. “Penny make that for you?”
Okay, half-assed small talk it is, then.
“No, the redhead did. Her name’s Chloe, I think.” I take another sip, watching him over the rim of the cup. “Why are you here? Because I doubt it’s to discuss my black eye or the coffee shop staff.”
After a beat, he decides to get to the point. “I talked to my source at Olympus this morning. Got some insight on their execs that might be helpful for the pitch.”
“Such as?” I prompt.
“For starters, their VP of Strategy prefers a clean interface. Sleek, minimalistic, and intuitive is the name of the game there. Player acquisition and retention are two of their top priorities right now, so I thinkweshould emphasize how this partnership supports both their short and long-term goals in that regard.”
“What else?”
“Their CEO is apparently a fantasy football junkie. The dude’s in no less than two dozen leagues each season. If we can showcase how our predictive analytics can boost his win ratio—or at the very least, stroke his ego—we’ll have his attention. If we can make it happen, a demo on that would really sell it.”
Interesting.
“So…you think we should add something along the lines of predicting which players are going to blow up based on subtle stat trends? Assist with weekly rosters or draft picks?”
