"Is the red tie too aggressive? Or does it say, 'I'm a corporate Vice President who casually buys millions in toxic debt before breakfast'?"
Toby stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the penthouse suite, holding a vibrant crimson silk tie against the collar of his white dress shirt. The Sunday evening sun was casting long, orange shadows across the sprawling Palo Alto skyline behind him.
"The navy blue one, Toby," Grayson said, not looking up from the yellow legal pad resting on the mahogany dining table. "Red projects a desperate need to dominate a room. We already hold the high ground. Navy projects institutional inevitability. It says we don't need to shout to be heard."
Toby sighed, dropping the red tie and picking up the navy one. "Institutional inevitability. Right. I
