Page 78 of Enemies to French Kisses
“Regardless, it’s in ten minutes.” Marc pauses. He doesn’t peek, but he opens the door a little more. “Are you okay?”
“You betcha.” I fling open the door and he stumbles toward me, but catches himself before there’s a full on incident on the bathroom tiles.
“Great,” he winks. “Just wanted to be sure.”
I catch my breath. “Wait, you weren’t going to try to take over the presentation, were you?” After all we’ve been through, Lord help Marc if he so much as considered taking this moment away from me.
“Of course not. I haven’t had a death wish since I tried kite surfing on the Mediterranean.”
“Good.”
This makes him laugh. “Laura, Laura. When will you see how things really are?” With that he shakes his head and strolls off, hands in pocket and clearly not the least concerned about how he looks since the man only becomes more gorgeous by the day.
It’s infuriating.
And frustrating.
And, oh, so irresistible.
Gah! Why am I doing this to myself? Must get in professional mode.
There they are, all sitting around the very table where Marc and I have spent hours and days and weeks in preparation. Oh, and Vincent too. Vincent is standing at the back, pacing and rubbing his hands together. He doesn’t do well under stress. Marc, however, is cool as a cucumber, standing within a small group of the Dutch reps. He’s laughing and making a point in a story, I can tell because he’s leaning forward, which makes the rest of them lean inward, too. He’s so good at that.
I can do this.I have been training for years for this moment. I am going to wow their socks off.
“Here she is,” Guillaume calls from the other side of the room. “Would everyone please take their seats? Mademoiselle Dowling will take us through the detailed proposal, and we’ll have time for questions and feedback in the afternoon.”
Here we go. “Good morning, everyone.”
Around the table are the tallest, blondest people I have ever seen concentrated in a single place. Their legs stretch so far under the table that I wonder if they can make it through the door without bending over.
Blue eyes, blue eyes, blue eyes, all staring at me with a combination of benevolence and analytical anticipation.
I clear my throat and turn on my pointer. “Vincent,” he snaps to life, finally ending the off-putting pacing at the back of the room. “Could you get the window shades, please? Much better, thank you. Let’s begin.” Flash them that million-dollar smile, take a deep breath, and speak slowly. All the techniques I learned in business school for remaining calm in the face of stress have flown out the window except for that, but it’s enough to get me started.
“Innov’ Biotech is not simply another start up with a vision for the future, eager to create efficiencies and drive through the noise of the current medical market. If we were, you wouldn’t be here today. You are here because Innov’ Biotech is founded in the place where humanity meets necessity, and budgets meet the undeniable right to quality of life.”
Smiles. Nods. Several of them tapping on their tablets.
I’ve got this.
I fly like an eagle through the business proposition, adding some extra flair to what was in the original proposal, but what matters most is what comes next.
“And now, the phased implementation process.” I click on the pointer, but the slide doesn’t change. I click again, knowing I risk it jumping too far ahead, which is the worst of a rookie presentation mistake, but I don’t know what else to do. The screen isn’t changing.
Forget the pointer, I tap enter on my laptop.
It’s frozen.
“Just a moment, please.” I smile, but they shift in their chairs.
Vincent rushes over and gently shifts me aside. “Keep talking, I’ll work on this.”
Keep talking? The slides for the implementation phases are simple, but it’s the speaker notes that have all the detail. The devil is in the details in a proposal like this, so I can’t fudge what we designed or we will be on the hook for it.
Come on,slide, I say in my head to the screen with my back to the crowd.You can’t let me down now.
But technology is nothing if not fickle. The screen doesn’t move. I prepare my smile before I turn back to the Dutch.
