9 -  I Don’t Know Her

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 fuck 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 loom