Pride and Papercuts (The Austens #5) - Staci Hart Page 0,31
thought—the flames beneath that boiling pot licked at the sides, the lid clattering and hissing with steam.
“I’m not allowed to speak during meetings. I’m not allowed to speak to you privately. Apparently, I’m not allowed to have ideas or suggestions. Why am I even here if you’re just going to do whatever you want, regardless of my opinion?”
“You’re here to be a pass-through. A gut check. You know what the client wants, and it was my impression that you were to be present without interference.”
“Interference?” The color in her cheeks flared. “I’m the one person in this building who knows Wasted Words inside and out. I think you just don’t want ideas that aren’t yours. I saw you in that meeting—you shot your team’s ideas down just as swiftly as you did mine. How long until you push them all out of the way so you can do it yourself?”
“Did you think their ideas were good?”
“That’s not the point. You’re just so certain you’re the only person who can come up with answers that you won’t even let anyone else try. So how about this, Mr. Darcy? Put your money where your mouth is. We need two full concepts to propose, so let’s split up. You come up with your grand and perfect campaign, and I’ll come up with mine. We’ll split the team between us—you can have Caroline, since she seems just as impossible as you are.”
I spent a moment puzzling out how this woman had ever survived in a corporate environment, and the only thing I could surmise was that her dogged determination and that fire in her belly produced results. But she was wrong about one thing—beneath her sarcasm was the subtext that she thought I couldn’t do it. I wondered if she knew I’d worked my way up the ranks just like anyone else. I’d fought inside of a creative team to have my ideas recognized and produced, and that was where my strengths were. In the fight. Those tools might have been a little dusty, but they were as sharp as ever, and the thought of proving her wrong held an intoxicating appeal.
But agreeing wouldn’t just be childish—it’d be unprofessional.
“No.”
A pause. “No?”
“No. This is juvenile, Laney. I don’t have to prove anything to you or anyone.”
“Then let’s up the ante. If you win, I promise to be your perfect subordinate. I’ll be quiet. I won’t argue, and I won’t challenge you for the remainder of our time together.”
“Are you physically capable of holding up your end of the deal?”
She shrugged. “You’re not going to win, so it doesn’t matter. But if you won’t play, then I won’t have any motivation to keep my mouth shut.”
Tempting. “How did you get to be so shrewd?”
“I have four brothers. As the only female, I had to have an advantage, and it wasn’t going to be brawn.”
I watched her. “You’re not at all afraid of me.”
“Why should I be afraid of you? Your height or your strength? Because you have authority? Power? Or because you’re unbearably rude? You’re imposing, Mr. Darcy, but no. I’m not afraid of you.”
Something in my heart eased at the admission, some liberation. Few people were comfortable in my presence, and to know she wasn’t intimidated by me was novel. Beyond that, as I traced the shape of her resolute face, I saw that she wanted a chance to prove herself. It was a display of scrappy underdog moxie, a hunger that bred winners. And for the first time, I recognized her drive as a strength rather than an irritation. She would lose, of course, and I would win not only the pick, but compliance and sweet silence.
Laney Bennet, compliant. In theory, it sounded like bliss. But I wondered if it would drain her of all that made her who she was, if it would douse her fire, and found myself surprised at the aversion I felt at the thought. Laney Bennet without fire was a bird with no wings.
But beyond my personal gains was the truth—the team was struggling, and we were on a timeline. I’d been considering how I could motivate them, and a competition would up the ante, as she’d said. Pitting them against each other would produce results, and who knew—there might be ideas we could pull from to shore up one of the campaigns enough to bring it to the top.
And so I decided.
“Keep the stakes between us, and I’ll consider it.”