Page 47 of Selfish Suit

Dominic is not the relationship type, and he never has been.

He doesn’t do girlfriends. He doesn’t feel the need to keep any people around, unless they’ve been on his staff for more than ten years.

After we land this campaign, I won’t have an excuse to stay.

I’ll move out and into one of the apartments I liked from last week.

And I’ll find a new job.

Preferably one where my boss doesn’t make me forget my own name every time he touches me.

THE CEO

DOMINIC

The Skittles team arrives at 8:59 a.m.

Five executives in sharp, tailored suits—each a different color of the rainbow—walk in with polished briefcases and perfectly timed expressions. Their shoes don’t squeak. Their faces don’t flinch.

They shake hands, sit down, and stare at the screen like they already hate it.

The conference room is cold and quiet, the type of quiet that presses against your chest. Sunlight cuts across the table in clean, diagonal lines, making everything feel too sharp, too exposed.

The team lines up in silence while Braxton and I take our seats on the other side of the boardroom table.

“Today’s not about making a pitch,” Marcus says. “It’s about shifting a legacy.”

He clicks the first slide, and then—as a surprise to me—he hands the clicker to Ivy.

She doesn’t miss a beat.

She walks forward, takes the device like it was always meant to be hers, and adjusts the mic with a flick of her wrist. Nohesitation. No stammer. Just her voice, steady and crisp, cutting through the room like she owns it.

From there, it’s a blur.

Ivy commands attention without asking for it.

She floats in and out of the spotlight between slides—taking the lead, stepping back, delivering key points without missing a beat.

She doesn’t just present. She performs. She reads the room better than anyone else I’ve ever worked with.

And then it happens.

They play the luxury commercial:

Skittles reclining in first-class airline seats with silk eye masks.

Mini bags slipping into designer purses and clutches.

Rainbow candy floating lazily on mirrored pool floats shaped like swans.

Back-alley kids pedaling sleek bicycles through narrow streets, Skittles nestled like jewels in their baskets.

A clash between classes.

And yet, the candy is the constant. The bridge.

It doesn’t just connect people. Itlevelsthem.

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