Murderous Endeavour

CHAPTER ONE

Sipping from her I Survived Another Meeting That Should Have Been an Email coffee mug, Diana St. James shivered in the too-chilly air-conditioning. Who'd turned that sucker down again?

Someone on the floor definitely had the constitution of a penguin just like her soon-to-be ex-husband, Evan. All those years, she'd had to grin and bear it when he turned the thermostat way down. It was somuch better to be able to do as one pleased, organize the house the way she wanted to . . . I should be happy to be getting rid of him!

Diana stood behind her desk, contemplating the latest addition to the product line. Sure, there was MAC cosmetics, NARS cosmetics, e.l.f., and NYX. But the last thing they needed was to make Addict the butt of all jokes by naming their latest, greatest mascara after one.

B. U. T. Who the heck came up with that one?

Diana sighed. It was another rainy Monday. It seemed like April showers had just given way to more May showers, and now it was a humid, sticky, waterlogged early June. The floor-to-ceiling windows in Diana's corner office were steamed over, only partially blocking her view of the throngs of people dodging the puddles and raindrops on the busy Tribeca street below.

She went to her intercom and buzzed Sandy, her trusty, just-out-of-college administrative assistant. Diana had chosen her because, with her blue eyes and freckles, she reminded her of her youngest daughter, Beatrice, who'd been in Japan for the past year. Most marketing executives would've questioned that hiring move-god knows, HR did, especially since Sandy didn't have squat on her resume-but Diana hadn't had the heart or the time to go through a lengthy hiring process. Anyway, it had turned out to be a good decision. Sandy was always cheerful, always willing to help, and always eager to learn.

Plus, she always answered on the first buzz. "Good morning, Diana! How can I help?"

"Hi, Sandy. Can you please tell Phil that none of these names is going to work for the new mascara? They're going to have to go back to the drawing board and come up with something different."

"Oh, really? Because I thought that B.U.T. one was cute! Ellie in graphic design came up with that," she said in her too-happy-for-Monday voice. "Get it? Like, B-U-T. Beauty?"

"I understand that," Diana said with a wan smile, "But the last thing we want is anyone to associate Addict's latest product with one's derriere. Right?"

"Oh. Yes. I understand. Good point. I'll tell him. Right away."

"Thank you. See if they can come up with anything new before the morning meeting," she said, depressing the button and sighing as she scooted forward in her leather executive chair. Opening her email, she started to go through the two hundred that Sandy had flagged for her as Urgent.

This was nothing new. She'd been the marketing director for Addict for over twenty years, almost since its inception, so now she ate, slept, and breathed the products. In the beginning when she was new to the company-though she'd been a marketing manager at Elizabeth Arden for ten years prior-Addict was young, hip, and fun; but now it was exclusive, refined, and sold at high-end boutiques. It had aged right along with the women it served. A few years ago, against Diana's better judgement, they'd tried to take back some market share among teenagers, even hiring a young YouTube star as their spokesperson-and what a disaster that had been.

Now, Diana knew to trust her instincts. And her instincts were clearly saying N.O. to B.U.T. or any of their other less-than-buzzworthy ideas.

After tackling the first few emails, a meeting alert popped up on the corner of her computer screen, telling her it was time for the morning briefing. Leaving her mug on her desk, she grabbed her pen and blank pad and headed next door to the massive board room. On the way, she mentally ran through ideas for the mascara line. Lash Pump? Lethal Lengths? Incredi-Pop? Really, anything would be better than B.U.T.