Into You Series: The Complete Collection

9. Grace

CHAPTER 9

GRACE

M idway through the week, we finally meet our client: Mr. Arnold Feldman. He’s the head of an architecture firm that’s been around for decades. When Mr. Feldman presents his ideas, you can tell he desperately needs Treasuries Inc.’s expertise and he’s not afraid to ask for it. He may be older—with a bit of a hunch and balding with the grace of an eagle—but he still holds the confidence of a man ready to make the changes necessary to keep his company alive. You can tell he means business.

Cameron stands beside him as he presents, hands behind his back, looking more attentive—and attractive—than I’ve ever seen him. He decided to wear a full suit today. He may as well be running for president because he looks like he’s ready to deliver speeches and kiss babies. I can tell his black eye is covered with some type of concealer. But in typical man fashion, he was clearly clueless on how to apply the makeup evenly.

I have to shield my mouth to keep from laughing. That disappears when he spots me, though.

I shift in my seat. It’s like he has this aura of heat bounding off his body and soaking into me. It’s intoxicating.

Focus on the presentation, Grace. This is why you’re here. Art. Design. Innovation. And you know what you’re not here to do? Admire the boss.

I settle into the presentation again, looking at examples of what Mr. Feldman’s company is looking for. Once he clicks to the next slide, I’m immediately excited. They’re going for an ’80s revamp look. This is right up my alley.

If John Hughes had a number one fan, it would be me . Pretty in Pink, Breakfast Club, Some Kind of Wonderful … Ramona has almost thrown a DVD case at me for suggesting we watch those just one more time. And don’t get me started on listening to glam rock.

“This is definitely something we’ll be able to tackle,” Cameron says, as Mr. Feldman finishes up the final slide. “It looks like you’re going for something a bit more dated, but that is the idea, isn’t it?” He says with a laugh. They good-naturedly shake hands.

Dated? This is a classic gold, Billboard top 100, door-banging hit of a design. How can he not see that?

“Yes and no, Mr. Kaufman,” Mr. Feldman says. “I’m not looking for some gimmicky mess of colors. We shall see.”

This guy gets it.

He’s starting to pack up, looking a bit off-put by Cameron’s comment. Uh-oh.

Wait—are we done? Are we not going to discuss design options? What was even the point of this meeting? To simply introduce the client? None of us have even said two words to him. Maybe everyone is just a bit too shy. But I refuse to be just “everyone.”

New job, new Grace.

I shoot my hand up toward the ceiling. Everyone looks at me in confusion. Even Gary, who almost always looks perplexed by life, appears even more concerned as he pauses mid-gummy bear bite.

Cameron’s eyebrows rise up almost as high as my hand. Mr. Feldman stops mid-suitcase snap and points at me. “Yes, Miss …?”

“Holmes. Grace Holmes,” I say, totally channeling my James Bond vibes. “I have a few suggestions on design, actually, if you want.”

He tilts his head to the side and Cameron’s head cocks as well. They both look so much like Hank it’s laughable. Though, while Mr. Feldman is smiling, Cameron’s face holds an unmistakable scowl.

What the heck is his problem? Am I not allowed to have opinions here? Doesn’t he want a go-getter?

“Go on …” Mr. Feldman says, knocking my eyes away from Cameron’s glaring ones.

“Yes, absolutely!” I spout out color schemes that flow through my head: Bright purples, pinks, and yellows that perfectly capture the spirit of the ’80s without ever actually stating what he wants is the ’80s because I can guarantee you that a man has no idea what he’s looking for until he sees it.

And suddenly the whole team is discussing it. Gary’s speaking up, sliding his snacks to the side, and pulling out a pen. Cameron is at the white board, scribbling down every thought we have.

As another team member stands to illustrate her idea on the presentation board, I look over to steal a glance at Cameron only to see that he’s already looking over at me. We lock eyes for only a moment, but for those few seconds, my stomach sinks into my gut and it feels like my mind is drowning underwater. He is seething .

Maybe I should have listened to his advice and kept my mouth shut? I’m starting a productive conversation, though!

I keep pushing forward with conversation, and his glare gets deeper and deeper.