“I don’t need their cooperation. If they don’t do what I tell them, they’re out of here.”
A repressive frown marred those full lips. “Robert and Anthony have always been the stars of Eternity Designs. You should treat them with more respect.”
How could those lips, pressed tight like a disapproving schoolmarm’s, still come across as sexy? He was actually struggling to follow her words. Him. The king of keeping things professional.
“Don’t you see, Ziara, that’s the problem,” he finally managed. “They’ve had people kissing their asses for years, with no challenges to their work. They think they can give a minimal effort and still be put on a pedestal. And Eternity suffers for it.”
“They do work—”
He could almost kiss her for the concern in the dark depths of her eyes but it was misplaced. “Not enough. Where’s the market research, the fresh, new ideas? They don’t just happen by playing around all day. Continued success takes more effort.”
Understanding made a reluctant appearance in her gorgeous brown eyes. For some reason it made all the difference in the world to him. “I know I sound harsh. But they’re grown men who’ve been catered to for years. A polite request isn’t going to even make a dent.” Reaching out, he brushed his thumb along the softened curve of her jaw. “I do have a method behind my madness, I promise.”
The feel of her silky skin beneath his touch was magic, along with the warmth and subtle catch of her breath. They both froze in surprise for a moment. It was all Sloan could do to resist brushing his lips over the same spot.
Whoa. This was the design floor, not a nightclub...not even the privacy of his office. And judging by the utter silence laced with antagonism behind his back, Sloan knew Robert wouldn’t hesitate to throw around accusations of sexual misconduct. With Ziara’s approval or without it.
He took a careful step back, letting his hand drop to his side. “Just remember something—I wouldn’t be here if they’d been doing their jobs right in the first place. Okay?”
Her nod was firm, though her eyes were still a little dazed.
This meeting needed to get back on track. “Ziara,” he snapped, but with a little less bite than he’d used on the men. “The tablet, please.”
She hurried to obey, giving him a moment to regain his focus before turning back to the others. When she handed over the device, he noticed the care she took not to touch him again. After a moment of tapping on the smooth surface, he paused, looking up at the group around him.
“Current trends favor retro designs, new twists on the old, avant-garde as well as classic.” During his recent research, he’d seen some unique retro looks in the fashion and wedding magazines, and they had sparked his own creative imagination.
“In less than three months, I’ll be showcasing our newest designs during a professional fashion show. We’re going to bring fashion week right here to Atlanta. It’ll be an exclusive, invitation-only event that I want people talking about for months.”
As Sloan continued to explain the fall show, excitement crept over the anger that had tightened the designers’ faces. He might have punctured their egos earlier, but now he was tempting them.
Lifting the tablet, he turned it around to face them. “Every event needs a theme, a focal point. This is ours.”
“A car? Are you insane?” Robert yelled, returning to his angry disbelief.
“Not just any car, a Rolls-Royce. A classic car epitomizing the elegance, sleek design and subtle sensuality of the late 1930s. An era where women flaunted sexy curves, draped their bodies with fabrics that showcased their femininity, and set out to entice the opposite sex. Think of the actresses of the time—Marlene Dietrich, Mae West, Vivian Leigh. The dresses they wore—the draped material, exposed backs...”
He caught a glimmer of understanding in Ziara’s eyes. Knowledge of where he was going with this idea.
“Ridiculous,” Robert insisted. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve heard in my lifetime.”
Sloan wasn’t backing down. “We’re going to do this and do it right. Get on board, or jump overboard. Your choice.”
* * *
When had work started feeling like a taffy puller?
Ziara waited until Sloan left the building for lunch before heading to Vivian’s office. Her stomach cramped, knowing Vivian would have already heard about the upcoming show, but also knowing she couldn’t blatantly walk out of Sloan’s office straight to his stepmother’s.
Observing Sloan for two days had taught her one thing already—he wasn’t playing. His knowledge this morning showed he had done his homework on the market, design, themes, even fashion shows. He’d been calm but firm, occasionally harsh, with Robert and Anthony. Stepping solidly into a leadership role, even if he had to do it by force.