Page 58 of The Sebastian Guarantee
Perfect match?
Phoebe’s entire body tensed—or perhaps it was him.
“I’m also excited to announce that we’ve added a twist to this year’s LETIS. We’re calling it LETIS Live.”
Phoebe tapped his arm. “Did you know about a twist?”
He shook his head. “The confirmation email was pretty light on details. But it did mention something about needing to stay in the area after LETIS ended.”
“At the last five symposiums,” Josephine continued, “we’ve announced innovator-investor pairings on the final day. This year, we’ll broadcast those partnerships at a live event in Denver three days after our time at Glenn Pines ends. But that’s not all,” Josephine teased. “If an innovator doesn’t connect with an investor during the symposium, LETIS Live will provide one final chance to pitch your idea and wow our handpicked group of unmatched investors. Now, mix and mingle. We wish everyone the best of luck.”
“Should we mingle?” Phoebe asked as the hum of side conversations returned. “Everything is a bit blurry. As long as you make sure I don’t fall into the lake or open any more emergency exit doors, I should be fine.”
He studied the crowd. People were talking in small groups, but nobody appeared to pay much attention to their conversations. They were still tossing furtive glances Phoebe’s way.
“No, our work here is done. You’ve accomplished what you needed to do.”
She cocked her head to the side. “I did?”
He nodded. “They got a whiff of you, Pheebs. That’s catering to the sense of smell.”
“We’re back to smell?” she replied, her voice rising an anxious octave. “I thought I smelled pretty good?”
“You do. I’m employing senses as a framework. The whiff-sense-of-smell is the first step. For sight, they get to see you. But you’ll leave them wanting. That’ll lead to sound—the buzz. You want people talking about you. Do you understand where I’m going with this? These principles work for both your professional and personal goals.”
Phoebe’s hold on his arm loosened as she relaxed. “Wow, okay, I totally get it, and I’m game. What about taste and touch?”
“We’ll get to those.” He did another scan of the space. “But we need to make an exit. Everyone knows you’re here. And believe me, you caught every man and woman’s eye.”
“This might work, huh?” She beamed up at him. “Phoebe Gale, Tech-Boss and American Man-eater, is ready to kill it at LETIS, thanks to the Sebastian Guarantee.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious. She had no idea how sexy she was when she was bursting with confidence.
“Come on,” he said, snagging two champagne flutes from a passing waiter’s tray. He offered her a glass. “Let’s check out the room and nail down a game plan.”
Phoebe took the flute and clinked it with his. “To—” she began, but her lit-from-within light dimmed as she looked past him. “Oh no, I forgot about that.”
What could be such a buzzkill?
“What did you forget about, Pheebs?”
She swallowed hard and tightened her grip on his arm. “Even half-blind, I recognize the glasses and the strawberry blond man bun. It’s Jeremy Drewler, and he’s headed straight for us.”
Chapter12
SEBASTIAN
Sebastian looked over his shoulder. Phoebe was right. He recognized the wannabe hipster techie, Jeremy Drewler, from her social media posts. He also recognized that the white-hot anger roiling through his body might compel him to hurl this butthole douche nozzle into the lake.
Phoebe tapped her foot five times.
“I was thinking the same thing. I read you loud and clear, Pheebs,” he murmured. “You’ve got this. Play it cool. I’ll pretend to laugh at something you said, then we’ll make our exit. Jackasses like that drool king have no hold on you. You’re with me now,” he added, not knowing exactly what he meant by that. It should mean he was there as her friend, but again, like God knows how many other times over the last twenty-four hours, it didn’t ring entirely true.
In his defense, it was one thing to hear Phoebe describe what the asshat, Jeremy, had said to her. He’d viewed the video of the shitshow after Phoebe had fallen asleep, and that had also pissed him the hell off. But seeing the guy in the flesh brought out a level of protectiveness he could barely contain.
Phoebe nodded. “He’s about to get a whiff of man-eater Phoebe 2.0 and have his senses blown away.”
“That’s the Sebastian Guarantee spirit.” He liked her energy. Now he had to keep himself in check. Murdering a LETIS innovator at the welcome cocktail party—even one as despicable as Jeremy Drewler—wouldn’t be a good look.
