Page 48 of Selfish Suit

When Ivy says, “The End,” the final slide fades to white.

She lowers the clicker, her hands steady at her sides.

The room is dead silent, but it’s not the silence of disinterest.

The kind that teeters between disbelief and slow, dawning approval.

THE INTERN

IVY

Iglance at Dominic, unsure if this is the good silence or the awkward kind.

Marcus’s face is paling by the second, and Mr. Braxton is looking like he’s about to shout into the void just so we can all hear something.

But then suddenly, the lead executive in the all-red suit slides out of his chair and stands to his feet. And he applauds.

Blue, yellow, orange, and green suits join in, and I let out the nervous breath I’ve been holding all morning.

I don’t get the chance to ask if there are any questions. The Skittles team is shaking our hands and leaving the room to render their verdict in private.

Dominic and Mr. Braxton slip out of the room to await judgment, and as I slump into a chair, my phone buzzes.

Dominic

You did one hell of a job today.

Looking forward to showing you how much I mean that later tonight…

Me too…

THE CEO

DOMINIC

Skittles broke our all-time client signing record.

They signed the preliminary agreement less than ten minutes after walking out of the boardroom. Not only that, but they agreed to a ten-year contract.

That’s practically unheard of in this digital era, and a true mark of trust and belief.

The champagne bottles are now popping in the presentation room, sending bubbles everywhere, and although I should be making a speech and congratulating the team on the success, I can’t stop thinking about Ivy.

Not the part where she presented flawlessly or the way she nailed the messaging without needing a single edit—it's the way she smiled at me as I slipped out of the room.

It was like she was forcing it.

Maybe I’m imagining this shit…

Ready to lure her up here with me, I slip out of the deal room and up to my office.

“Your dinner is on me all week, so I suggest you pick some good places.” Braxton tosses a manila folder on my desk. “In the meantime, the legal team is waiting on your signature.”

“There’s no way they hammered out the post-deal print that fast.”

“Of course they didn’t.” He shrugs. “That’s Miss Locke’s erasure file, where you acknowledge that she was a temporary executive hire, but now you have no use for her employment here.”

“She just helped land the biggest client we’ve had in years.”

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