“Ma'am, you must have misunderstood. As long as you sign with The Etheridge Group, we'll take full responsibility. We guarantee you'll be satisfied with the final product,” Irving Butler assured Ms. Cooper, his tone smooth and practiced.
Odd. He was sure he'd heard that voice before—there was something uncannily familiar about it.
Effie watched Irving Butler, her thoughts sharp. Typical old fox, she mused. Not a single crack in his armor.
“If Effie doesn't stay on this account, the deal's off,” Ms. Cooper said, her gaze unwavering on Irving Butler.
He barely concealed his indifference. “Well, that's unfortunate, but since Effie failed to meet the company's requirements, she'll have to be let go. If you refuse to work with another team member, we simply can't take your business.”
Ms. Cooper let out a short, cold laugh. “Fine.”
Effie turned to him. “Mr. Butler, do you even know who this lady is?”
“How should I know?” he scoffed.
“She's Ms. Cooper. The same Ms. Cooper you specifically asked me to handle.”
“What?!” Irving Butler's eyes widened in disbelief.
It hit him all at once—memory snapping into place. No wonder her voice had sounded so familiar. She was that Ms. Cooper.
The moment he realized who she was, his demeanor flipped. He forced a wide, obsequious smile. “Ms. Cooper, my apologies. I didn't recognize you—my mistake entirely.”
Ms. Cooper lifted her chin, cool and regal. “Weren't you just refusing to take my business?”
“No, no, not at all! Total misunderstanding, I assure you,” Irving Butler stammered, twisting his lips into a strained grin.
“Can I get you something to drink? It's nearly lunchtime—I'd be delighted to take you out—”
Ms. Cooper raised a hand to cut him off. “That won't be necessary. All I want is for Designer Bagnold to handle my account.”
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