9 - I Don’t Know Her
Damon
I glared at the replies and resisted the urge to slam the iPad on the desk and instead took a deep breath, holding the tablet gently.
“What the f**k is this?” I asked, glaring at our marketing agent who brought me the latest news of my late mother’s beauty brand, Moore, and how the new promotion was going down the hill.
I had invested over a million dollars, and it was going down the drain.
“I don’t think we are marketing the product well, Mr. Grant.”
I stood up, the chair creaking and rolling back as I glared at her. “You don’t think I can see that?! Remind me, Janice,” I said, keeping my palms on the desk and looming over her. She cowered, trying to hide behind her long bangs. “How much did I invest in this green lipstick? And it’s ads, marketing, PR,
