Victoria repeats the name like she's tasting something spoiled. I've never heard of it.
One of the German investors, a man with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses, clears his throat. Victoria, perhaps we should.
She holds up one manicured finger. Wait, listen.
Victoria takes a step closer to Darien. Close enough that he can smell her perfume.
Something floral and expensive. I don't know how you got the address for this meeting, but this is invitation only.
I was invited. Darien keeps his hand extended.
If there's confusion, you can call your assistant, Jenny, right? She confirmed last Tuesday.
What I can see, Victoria's voice gets louder, is that you showed up to a business meeting dressed like you're going to a barbecue. The German investors exchange glances.
The silver-haired man whispers to his colleague in German. The exchange is clearly making them uncomfortable.
Ms. Ashford. Darien lowers his hand slowly.
I understand this is unexpected, but unexpected? Victoria laughs.
It's not a happy sound. What's unexpected is someone like you thinking you can just walk into a meeting with serious investors.
Someone like you. The words hang in the air.
A woman sitting on a nearby couch looks up from her phone. A concierge behind the desk stops typing.
Darien feels the familiar weight settling in his chest. He's felt it before at MIT when a professor assumed he was in the wrong classroom.
At a restaurant in Boston when the host asked if he was there to apply for a kitchen job. At a conference last year when someone asked him to grab them a coffee.
He keeps his voice level. I flew in from New York specifically for this meeting.
If you'd just let me show you my credentials. Your credentials?
Victoria's voice drips with contempt. You mean whatever fake business card you printed at Staples?
She turns to the security desk. Excuse me, can someone help me here?
Two guards start walking over. One is the older man, Jerome.
His face shows exactly how much he doesn't want to do this. The other is younger, white, with a military haircut.
Darien tries one more time. Miss Ashford, there's clearly been a miscommunication.
I'm a managing partner at Cole Ventures. We manage $3.8 billion in assets.
We spoke with your CFO last month about potential investment terms. 3.8 billion.
Victoria actually laughs. Right.
And I'm the Queen of England. She looks him up and down again.
Slow and deliberate, making sure everyone watching can see her judgment. Let me guess, you saw the article about our funding round in TechCrunch.
You thought you'd show up, talk your way into a meeting, maybe network your way into something. The German investor tries again.
Victoria, perhaps? No. Victoria cuts him off.
This is exactly the kind of opportunist we have to watch out for in this industry. She finally looks directly at Darien's face.
I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I don't shake hands with people who lie their way into private meetings, and I definitely don't do business with people who can't even dress appropriately. The security guards arrive.
Jerome looks at Darien with apologetic eyes. The younger guard puts his hand near his belt where his radio is clipped.
Ma'am, the young guard's voice is all business. Is there a problem?
Yes. Victoria points at Darien like she's pointing at trash on the sidewalk.
This man is disrupting a private business meeting. He's not on any guest list.
He's not invited. And he needs to leave immediately.
Darien takes a slow breath. He could pull out his phone right now.
He could show her his Forbes profile. He could call his CFO and have James verify everything.
But he doesn't because this moment tells him everything he needs to know about Victoria Ashford. She didn't see a potential investor.