Page 118 of Savage Suit

“They brought you in just to be dismissed.”

He nodded, his features taut.

“Noah—”

Backing away, he shook his head to silence me. He gave me a sweeping once over, his eyes darkening. But he didn’t speak or allow me to, returning to his chair without further comment.

I couldn’t allow our personal issues,mypersonal issues, to interfere, so while awaiting the utility cart, I walked to my chair, although I remained standing. I sat the computer on the table and pulled up the proper files. By the time I finished, maintenance had arrived. The guy set up everything, then showed me the ins and outs of the remote control.

“Thank you all for your patience.” I ignored Claude’s pointed look at his watch. “Because of the urgency of Mr. Keegan’s special project, I will start there.”

Claude smiled. “I must interrupt you,petite une.”

Noah growled, but Boyd got up from his chair and took the seat I’d vacated to whisper to Noah.

“As much as your beauty transfixes us,” Claude continued, holding my gaze, and forcing me to ignore the heated whispers between Boyd and Noah, “the special project is a guaranteed impossibility. It must be redone. Maybe we revisit for the 25thyear.”

I swallowed the names I longed to fling his way. “Just indulge me for five minutes.” Asshole.

“Proceed, madame,” Sacha said, just as Boyd and Noah focused on me.

“I created a short video to capture the essence of Mr. Keegan’s goal.”

Finding the right music had been agonizing. I wanted the greatest impact, so Claude Amage understood the project’s importance and felt its urgency. My first song choice had beenHaloby Beyonce. It was Bey. Enough said. Then I thought to useCan You Feel The Loveby Elton John. It didn’t work. Neither did Sam Smith’sStay With Me, Dear Mamaby Tupac, orYou Raise Me Upby Josh Groban.Butterfly Kissessent me into a crying fit because of my mother. Both my parents.

Though I couldn’t look at Noah, I made sure I had everyone else’s attention before I ran it. I pressed play as Bette Midler’sThe Rosefilled the room, the soundtrack to several videos of Réjane Keegan and her world that had been cut and merged into this one. I added text, offering facts of her life, her legacy, and words of love and beauty I thought applied to her. She had been a stunning woman with eyes as green as Noah’s brother, Nicholas. Even if her honey-blonde tresses were the exact opposite of her sons’ dark hair, her smile mirrored Noah’s. Unfortunately, as the years passed, her smile had grown even rarer than his.

Reid provided the videos, either featuring her alone or with Noah. They had been so close. I understood why her sudden death had affected his entire life.

Spliced between footage of her were clips from Chevreuse, her birthplace, a fairytale-like city dating to the Middle Ages. When the video ended, I waited a moment before I turned. I’d viewed it at least ten times, yet I felt so emotional because of Noah. I wanted to absorb his pain, the heaviness in the air heightening my feelings.

A full minute went by before I faced them, but I couldn’t meet Noah’s gaze, even if the heat of it lasered me. “Réjane Keegan was taken far too soon, especially from a son who loved her so dearly and whom she loved as much. This isn’t about Mr. Keegan. It is about honoring a woman who enriched the world just because she was in it. The limited-edition fragrance pays homage to her legacy. She created KMG, and nurtured it, along with the Amage account.”

The men remained silent, so I continued.

“Réjane Keegan was an incredible woman who carried her family’s business to unprecedented heights.”

I found the PowerPoint presentation and clicked to slide one, revealing the compilation of ingredients. “In my revised brief, you will see our wish to limit the amount of synthetic components, so our product can be clean. The perfume oils must be as pure as possible.”

“Are you questioning the quality of our products, madame?” Claude demanded.

“Non, monsieur,” I said quickly. “I am making a case on why I’ve requested the change.”

“Please, proceed, Ms. Hagen,” Boyd Andrews instructed me, side-eying Claude.

“Thank you,” I said, picking up where I left off. “The purer oils will also result in a thicker perfume more hydrating than most others. The parfum will have a complex fragrance. French lavender and Noisette coffee, as well as vanilla, chestnuts, and sunflowers. All things Réjane loved—the smell of vanilla, the taste of chestnuts, and the cheeriness of sunflowers.”

I gazed at everyone’s faces as I spoke, to gauge their feelings and make eye contact. Claude wore a scowl. The various emotions on Noah’s face hinted at how the mention of his mother affected him.

“According to my calculations, each 50ml bottle will cost ten dollars to produce. This will be a high-end, limited-editionextrait de parfumwith the highest possible fragrance concentration. Forty percent,” I announced, seeing the argument forming on Claude’s face. Typical concentration was between twenty and thirty percent. “Mr. Keegan is funding the project,” I added quickly. “I propose a 2000% percent markup, roughly two-hundred dollars a bottle.”

“We could produce a cheaper perfume, based on per bottle estimates. Sauncier’s proposed perfume will cost half the amount to produce,” Claude said haughtily.

Noah glared at Claude. “We aren’t planning to use cheap ingredients you can find at Walmart. This perfume has sentimental value. The price per bottle factors in not only the price of the scent’s oils, but the import costs as well.”

“And we’ll have Keegan funds at our disposal, Claude,” Boyd Andrews pointed out, and I was grateful he sided with Noah. “With their funding, money won’t be an issue. Going with KMG as planned is more appealing.” He had a strong Brooklyn accent, one contrasting his appearance. “Factor in the close working relationship we’ve had with Noah’s company, it’s a no-brainer to produce the commemorative parfum.”

“It is not possible,” Claude said in a bitter voice, furious with me. “He no longer has what is needed.”