Chapter 13 Handle it
The room buzzed with a quiet energy, the kind that settled into the walls during long presentations. Occasional rustling of pages and soft clicks of pens blended into the background as the meeting continued. Holland sat at the head of the long mahogany table, posture upright, her gaze fixed on the screen at the front of the room. Willis was presenting today, and she noted the confidence in his voice as he moved through the slides with a practiced rhythm that kept attention where he wanted it.
“Our upcoming ‘Ethereal Grace’ collection is designed to capture the essence of timeless elegance,” he explained, gesturing toward the sleek slides projected behind him. Models displayed the new pieces, each one illuminated in soft tones that highlighted the details. “We’ve incorporated feedback from our last campaign, focusing on pieces that resonate with both modern trends and classic tastes. Also, we’ve ethically sourced gemstones to align with our sustainability goals.”
Holland nodded subtly, flipping through the printed handouts in front of her. The designs were exquisite, each piece crafted with intention. Every necklace, bracelet, and ring had its own character, telling a story through the curves of its metal or the placement of its stones. The design team had clearly put in work, and now the responsibility fell to her department to bring this line to the world.
As the marketing team, it was their job to ensure people saw these pieces and wanted them. Their campaigns had been performing well so far—they had chosen platforms carefully, partnered with designers who aligned with their image, and created promotional material that matched the aesthetic they were aiming for. Early buzz around the collection was growing, and Holland hoped it would surpass the success of their previous release.
Her attention drifted to the side, landing on Camille Lustrelle. The young woman sat two seats down, a notebook balanced on her lap, pen moving quickly across the page as she tried to keep up with the flow of information. Holland didn’t understand why anyone still used pen and paper in meetings like this. Camille looked deeply focused, eyes darting between the presenter and her notes as she tried to absorb everything.
A quiet chuckle escaped Holland as she remembered the chaos from earlier that morning. Camille had been reading out her schedule when Holland asked her if she had prepared the boardroom for the 8 o’clock meeting. The question had caught her completely off guard. Camille had nearly launched out of the office, rushing through the hallway with an urgency that drew a few amused glances. She moved like someone trying to find their footing, unsure of the order of task lists but determined to get it right. Holland hadn’t intervened, choosing instead to let the young woman figure it out with the help of a few experienced staff members. Camille had managed. A bit frantically, but she had managed.
Still caught in her thoughts, Holland noticed Camille’s eyes on her. The young woman looked at her with a mix of curiosity and worry, as if wondering whether she’d done something wrong. Holland quickly looked away, clearing her throat just as the room fell silent. She lifted her gaze and found several eyes fixed on her.
“Any questions, Ma’am?” Willis asked, his voice polite and waiting.
Holland blinked, pushing away her wandering thoughts. “No, please continue,” she replied, gesturing lightly for him to move on.
As the presentation resumed, her focus wavered again. The voices became a background hum as she leaned back slightly, the weight of recent decisions anchoring her attention inward. She couldn’t shake the question that had been bothering her since yesterday.
Why had Mrs. Lustrelle asked her, out of everyone in the company, to take Camille under her wing?
Camille had three older brothers who were already thriving within the business. They were driven, respected, and experienced enough to guide their youngest sibling with ease. They knew the company dynamics, they understood expectations, and they held influence. So why her? Why place the responsibility on someone who had never asked for it and didn’t think she was the right fit for shaping another person’s path?
Her gaze drifted back to Camille. Even in simple slacks and a blouse, Camille carried herself with an effortless presence. She had the kind of look that drew attention without trying—something Holland had observed at company events long before they spoke. Those glimpses had always been from afar, usually accompanied by some tabloid headline or half-whispered rumor about the young woman’s nightlife. None of those stories had ever suggested Camille was suited for a structured office role.
But yesterday had changed her perspective. Camille had walked into her first day with more focus than Holland expected. She had maintained her composure despite the unfamiliar environment, and she hadn’t faltered when dealing with Oliver, which was impressive on its own. She had handled the situation with a mix of firmness and respect, proving she wasn’t as aimless as people believed. That alone had earned her more credit than Holland anticipated giving her.
“Ma’am?” Willis’s voice broke through her thoughts once again.
She sat up straighter as she looked around the table, realizing the team was waiting for her input. Twice now she had drifted off in the middle of a meeting—something that rarely happened.
“Excellent work, everyone,” she said. The room shifted slightly as a few surprised glances moved toward her. Praise wasn’t something she handed out often, not publicly at least. She could sense the brief ripple of surprise, but she kept her composure.
Holland returned to her usual tone. “Let’s ensure we maintain this momentum. I expect no missteps as we move forward with the launch.”
With that, she gathered her notes, stacking them neatly before rising from her seat. The quiet scrape of her chair echoed softly in the room, signaling the end of the meeting. As she walked toward the door, she glanced back, expecting Camille to follow. Instead, the young woman remained in her seat, leaning back as she released a breath that seemed to have been held for far too long.
Camille’s shoulders relaxed, and her posture shifted from attentive to drained. Her pen slipped from her hand and dropped to the floor, but she didn’t move to pick it up. The sight tugged at something within Holland—something she quickly pushed down. A smile almost found its way to her lips, but she schooled her expression, reminding herself to stay composed.
Outside the boardroom, Holland paused and took a moment to gather herself. The hallway was quieter, the noise from the meeting fading behind the closed door. She found her thoughts returning to Camille with a persistence she couldn’t ignore. She didn’t entirely understand it, but something about the young Lustrelle drew her attention. It wasn’t her looks or her family name. It was the effort she saw beneath the surface—the way Camille tried, even when she was uncertain, even when she stumbled.
Camille was nervous, yes, but she was putting in work. That counted for something.
Maybe mentoring her wouldn’t be as difficult as she originally believed. Camille had already surprised her more than once, especially in how she dealt with her husband’s unexpected intrusion. That moment alone had shown she had more resilience than the rumors suggested.
Holland wouldn’t admit it out loud, not yet, but a small part of her was curious. Curious about what Camille would do next. Curious whether she would continue proving people wrong. Curious whether she would grow into this role despite every assumption stacked against her.
Adjusting her grip on the stack of papers and her MacBook, Holland walked down the hallway toward her office. There were still tasks to complete, emails to respond to, and preparations to finalize before the launch. She intended to get through all of it with the same focus she always carried.
Whatever came next, she would handle it.
She always did.