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One Night Standards(20)

By:Cathy Yardley


Mrs. Marion brushed some of the foundation over the back of her hand, sniffing experimentally. “And a nice fragrance, too.”

“Another one of our signatures,” Sophie said with pride.

“I see you’ve expanded on the promise you showed in Vegas,” she said, and Sophie felt a thrill zip through her system. “This is very, very exciting.”

“Thank you. I assure you, it’s just the start.” With that, she sat down. Lydia reached over and squeezed her hand. Sophie had done well—she’d done her best, and it looked very good for her, her family and Diva Nation.

“All right, Trimera,” Mrs. Marion said, turning to Mark and his boss. “I’d hate to follow that act, but you’re on.”

Mark wore a slight frown, a less intense version of the frown his boss was sporting. For a second, Sophie felt a pang of remorse. She knew how much this presentation meant to him. He was trying to prove himself as a businessman, and this was a big deal. He was used to being considered a pretty face and nothing more…. Used to being the salesman who closed deals simply because female buyers found him attractive. That wasn’t going to work here. Still, they were in competition. He knew that. Sophie couldn’t feel bad that she’d tried hard—this meant a lot to her, too.

“Diva Nation’s products are incredible,” he started, surprising her. “They have all the advantages of being a boutique line—unique products, niche marketing, a definite cachet among their clients.”

Sophie’s eyes widened, and she noticed a similar look of surprise crossing his boss’s face. What was he doing? He was helping out his competitor, not pushing his own product!

“What they can’t do—and what they won’t tell you—is that they have all the same problems of a boutique line,” he continued. “They are small enough to have difficulties producing their cosmetics. They can’t place orders large enough to get the materials they need in a timely fashion. When they can place large orders, they are used to producing in smaller batches, so there are quality issues that crop up. Their packaging is innovative, but not necessarily able to make the profit margin that you’ll want….”

Sophie watched as Mark produced a slide show. In a matter of minutes, he’d illustrated all the problems of working with her company—using information she didn’t even know he had. He’d talked to all of their most problematic vendors, and he was dead-on when it came to the flaws in their business. She felt her face redden. She felt as if she were standing in the middle of the conference room in a pair of ratty granny panties with holes in them. She was exposed—and humiliated.

“Trimera may not have the innovation that a small company has,” he said, sounding like a lawyer at a hanging trial. “But what we do have is the ability to produce on the scale that Marion & Co. will want, with a price point and profit margin that your company will need. Creativity is important.” He glanced over at Sophie, and she swore his look was one of contempt. “But then…so is the bottom line.”

Mrs. Marion took the whole thing in, nodding thoughtfully. “So—do you have a product line for me?”

He produced a silver cosmetics box, similar to the type professional makeup artists use. “This is the mockup,” he said. “But you’ll be emphasizing high quality and discretion. Like the Tiffany pale blue box signifies quality, the Marion & Co. ‘silver box’ can become a symbol of high-end makeup…. Its own brand recognition.” He glanced at the Diva Nation packaging and example ad, and sneered slightly. “Your customers are discerning enough to know what they want, without a bunch of hype.”

And with that, another body slam to Diva Nation. Lydia looked pale. Sophie imagined she didn’t look much better.

Mark had done more than his homework. He’d systematically demolished Diva Nation with that presentation. And she felt devastated.

“And please keep in mind if any of the cosmetics need improvement,” he added quietly, “we can always change formulas—and mimic things that are going on in the market.”

Lydia gasped, and Sophie saw red. “You’re not suggesting that you could knock off Diva Nation products,” she interjected, between gritted teeth.

He shrugged. “Business is business.”

“Well, this has been a big day,” Mrs. Marion said, before Sophie could growl back a retort—and possibly jump over the conference-room table and strangle Mark. “You two have given me a lot to think over. I’d like to see one final presentation in two weeks in New York, at our office there. I need to see how you both envision your companies working with ours, as it were.” She smiled. “Meaning why it would make financial sense for Marion & Co. to work with you, rather than your opponent. Although I must say, Trimera seems to have gotten a jump-start on that today. If you need anything, feel free to contact Lily in the interim.”

With that, Mrs. Marion and Lily left, after shaking hands with everyone.

“Oh, my God,” Lydia breathed, her voice faltering. “Mom’s going to freak out when she hears about this. What are we going to do?”

Sophie didn’t say anything. She glared at Mark, who was shaking hands with his boss. That woman had a broad smile on her face, full of satisfaction, like a cat in front of a bowl full of cream. Mark didn’t share the look, a small comfort. He still had that stern expression, like a soldier at war.

Then, for a second, he glanced over, his gaze locking with Sophie’s. He looked…resigned. Possibly even apologetic. Within seconds, he looked determined again, as he snapped his attention back to his boss and his side of the table.

It’s just business, Sophie. She closed her eyes, mocking herself. Certainly she’d said it was just business. She wanted him to feel better about the fact that they were competitors. She knew that he had talent.

She just didn’t realize that he would use that talent, intelligence and drive, and focus it on a character assassination of her company.

“What are we going to do?” Lydia repeated, her voice injected with a note of hysteria.

“Calm down,” Sophie said in a low, sharp tone. “I’ll handle it.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped, causing Lydia to finally quiet down, looking a little wounded. “I was expecting them to push harder, but I wasn’t expecting them to play dirty.”

“They wouldn’t really knock off our products, would they?” Lydia said.

Sophie continued staring at Mark, watching as he and his boss disappeared out of the conference room. “I wouldn’t have thought so,” she admitted. “But after today…I expect anything.”

“Mom was right,” Lydia said. “They’re heartless. They’ll do anything to win.”

Sophie closed her eyes. She didn’t want to believe it. Not of Mark.

“Maybe,” she forced herself to admit. Then she opened her eyes. She had gotten herself into this mess. Crying about it wasn’t going to help her situation any. “It means we’ll have to toughen up, that’s all.”

And it means I’m going to rethink my “relationship” with Mark McMann, she thought, agitated. She wouldn’t be his judge and jury. But she still couldn’t help but wonder why he’d done what he’d done—and whether or not he was the man she’d thought he was, or if she’d just made a colossal mistake.



“SOPHIE, I NEED TO TALK to you.”

Sophie was sitting by herself at a table in the hotel bar when she heard Mark’s voice behind her. “I don’t think I’ve got anything left to say to you, Mark.” She glanced around. “Besides, we shouldn’t even be seen together.”

He was still in his suit, and his expression was bleak. “I wanted this to be more private,” he murmured. “But you wouldn’t return my calls.”

“Lydia’s upstairs packing, Mark,” she said. “She’ll be down any minute. And there really isn’t anything else to say.”

He sat down, and Sophie felt a lash of pain shoot through her. Here he was, his face the picture of concern. But he was the one who had hurt her in the first place. What good was it now that he seemed to be sorry for it?

“I was afraid this was going to happen,” he said. “You said when it’s business, it’s business and we can keep it separate, and I wanted you so badly I ignored my damned common sense and let myself believe it.”

“This isn’t about business,” Sophie corrected.

“Oh, come on.”

Sophie felt the blush heat her cheeks, and glared at him. “You’re right. It is about business. Specifically, it’s about how you chose to do business.” She lowered her voice to a hiss. “Is Trimera so bankrupt of ideas and innovation that your idea of a great business move is offering to knock off whatever we come up with?”

“I’m not proud of that,” he answered. “But it happens all the time, Sophie. That chocolate-cayenne lip gloss your company’s so proud of? Three other cosmetics companies will be coming out with it next year, I promise you. I didn’t want to have to go that route, but it’s a fact of life.”