Page 4 of Enemies to French Kisses
Me!A project like this means not only a bonus, but a higher base salary, a new title, my newcomer breakthrough in the world of biotechnology. My resume will burst with metrics of international intrigue. When I get home to Texas, I’ll be a force to be reckoned with. Move aside, Silicon Valley, I’m going to make Houston the biomedical tech center of the world!
Guillaume points.
“And Marc.”
Oh no.
CHAPTER2
Laura
The clip-clopof the boots is the only sound in the otherwise silent office. The heel of each boot clanks against the tile floor, creating an echoey clatter like a rattling train car winding down an old track. I catch a glimpse of my patent leather boots as I stride across the office floor, the leather shining like a polished mirror under the bright lights. Almost too shiny. Is that why Marc made that comment?
At least they are practical enough that I can quasi-run my way to Guillaume’s office. I have to get there before the others arrive. It’s my only chance.
“Guillaume,” I shut the door quickly behind me. “You’ve got to rethink this. There must be a different team you can set up for this assignment.”
Guillaume’s Louis the Sixteenth desk shines brighter than the Chrysler building, casting the reflection of morning sun like a laser and blinding me. I step to the side but bump into an armchair dutifully placed for guests. As a result, I’m sprawled across it in a move that is more Marilyn Monroe than I’d like.
“Won’t you sit down?” Guillaume gestures to the chair with a bemused look.
I sit, the oversized arm chair making me feel like a kid visiting my grandparents in Kentucky more than a grown woman in the world of European startups.
Guillaume clears his throat and folds his hands on the table. I may only have been working here for a few months, but that look is unmistakable. Guillaume didn’t get to this point in the Paris business world by being soft and cuddly, despite his charm and uncharacteristically French enthusiasm. But he hasn’t got that gleam he had an hour ago when he announced the Dutch project. Now, he’s all business.
“I want you on this project.” He says the words quickly, his lips set in a line.
“I want to be on the project.”
“Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”
“I’m not.”
His brow furrows. “Then why are you here?”
“Because…” I must tread gently. I am still new here, even if I have proven my worth several times over. Marc has been at Innov’ since it began. “Because I think we need a more diverse team if we are going to land this Dutch project.”
He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Diverse?”
“Yes, diverse.” I’m super pleased with my word choice. In this day and age, no one can argue with having a diverse team. There are only business advantages to diversity, especially in a European—
“You are American and new. Marc is French, a proven salesperson who can read the room better than anyone I know, and a long-time Innov' employee. Vincent is North African, speaks six languages, and has developed more technology solutions before the age of twelve than Venice has canals. How does this team not meet your expectations?”
The burn of embarrassment rises up the back of my beck. Twice in one day I’m called out for observational errors, and that is not okay.
“I see your point, but—”
“You think it’s my cologne?” a man’s voice booms behind me. “Perhaps Laura prefers farmhand aromas tohaute couture.”
I stop myself from asking how long Marc’s been standing there, so as not to play into his game.
“You’re not wrong,” I say, standing from the too-squishy armchair. “I do prefer men who work with manure over those who talk it.”
I watch his mind trying to figure it out.
Guillaume breaks the awkwardness. “The energy between you will be an asset. You’ll watch out for one another, and most of all, you’ll break through the glass walls of the Dutch regulatory body. We’ll begin as soon as Vincent gets here.”
“Ici, monsieur.”If Fiorella is a Sicilian breeze, Vincent is more like a Texan tornado. Folders half fall from his arms as he stumbles into the room. He drops the paperwork on Guillaume’s desk, which sprawls like a volcano erupting. Guillaume lifts his espresso just in time to avoid a coffee lava disaster.
