She’s nervous. I pretty much surmised that the moment she flung the door open to greet me—her frazzled green eyes resisting my eager gaze.

If she were mine, I would have scooped her up in my arms and—

What the hell does it matter? She’s not mine. Women like her won’t give someone like me the time of day. Instead, I attract women who are on a fast track mission toward fame and fortune.

Can I be in a CraveMe commercial? What about the CraveMe catalog? Or Can you introduce me to a movie producer? As if I’ve got quid pro quo tattooed across my chest.

It’s no wonder I’ve never been in love—though it’s not like I haven’t tried. God knows I have. Yet, the struggle to find someone interested in just me is real.

I know, I know…boo-freaking-hoo for the handsome rich dude who can’t find love, right?

I can’t help but think Daniella could very well be the one. It’s an indisputable sensation I get each time I lay eyes on her. Not a carnal sensation; well yeah, I’m not gonna lie—that too. I mean seriously, she is felicitously hot.

And when I see her, I see a woman who’s meant for me, and I am not sure why, exactly.

“Okay,” Daniella speaks softly as she stands behind her laptop that’s propped on the end of the large oval-shaped boardroom table. She bites on her bottom lip. “Jonah, will you please turn the lights down?”

Jonah lifts a small remote control off the table and forcefully points it to the ceiling, effectively dimming the lights. He offers Daniella two thumbs up and says, “Mission accomplished.”

She looks at Jonah then to me; an intrepid smile emerges, complementing her flawless features. “Gentlemen, brace yourself for Get Your Chic On—A Tribute To Confident Women.”

Stepping to the side, Daniella fans out one arm, gesturing us to divert our attention to the large projection screen. “Women. They make up eighty percent of those who purchase lingerie.”

Scrolling across the screen are images of women donning provocative lingerie, as they stand in front of a mirror, seductively studying their own reflection.

With one hand on her hip and one sexy-as-hell, stiletto-enhanced foot jutted out, Daniella goes on, “And why is that? It’s simple. In order to be sexy, a woman must first feel sexy. And feeling sexy exudes more than simple allurement. Sexy exudes confidence.” She pivots, and begins pacing back and forth in front of the projection screen. “Confidence to conquer the day. Confidence to ace that job interview. Confidence to boost up her self-esteem when she’s feeling a little down. And of course…confidence to please her man.”

Jonah leans back in his seat, placing his Nike-covered feet up on the table, and grins. “Well, alright, now! I think I like where this is headed.”

I chuckle at his enthusiasm, then lean forward in my seat, giving Daniella my undivided attention.

She places both hands on the table and leans forward with a resolute gaze glued to me and Jonah. “Gentlemen, what better way to showcase CraveMe than with beautifully confident women, strutting down the catwalk, wearing an assortment of CraveMe pieces—from elegant designs to naughty designs.”

My eyebrows rise with interest all on their own.

“Our models will tastefully prance the runway,” she continues, “to music from an era in which ladies vocalized songs with just the right blend of bad-assery and sassy confidence.”

Jonah nods. “And from what musical era would that be, exactly?”

Daniella stands tall, arms folded as she brandishes an audacious smirk. “The 1980s.”

Jonah smiles while I internally cringe.

She takes a few steps toward her seat and spills into it. “Think about it. Female pop vocalists of the ’80s were strong and confident with fierce vocals that were packed with messages of empowerment. These women came across as being in charge of their own destiny, and that confidence made them sexy without being just sexy. We can give models big ’80s hair and makeup. Some dressed only in CraveMe pieces while others will be dressed in clothes with CraveMe pieces underneath. For instance, imagine Donna Summer’s She Works Hard For The Money blaring in the background. Our models swagger along the walk, briefcases in hand, sleek hair pulled back, eyeglasses, dressed in tight miniskirts and a formfitting blazer; only, underneath the blazer is a very prominent CraveMe bra.”

Silence consumes the room for a brief second.

Jonah stands and claps his hands. “Now this is a woman who knows her shit. Antonio, my man, you must admit this is freaking gold right here.”

I rock back and forth in my chair as I rub the small amount of stubble growing along my chin. I really can’t stand music from the ’80s—and Jonah of all people knows this all too well. Yet, what Daniella suggests may just work. If we add the right amount of lighting and match the right pieces with the right songs, this could be CraveMe’s knock-it-out-of-the-park year in Milan.

I sit up in my chair and look to Daniella whose confidence seems to be dwindling, most likely due to my silence. “Great job. I love it. Even though ’80s music isn’t typically my thing.”

Jonah cackles at the last part of my comment and plops back down in his seat.

“But I think if you and I match the right piece with the right song, this, as Jonah put it, will be gold.”

Daniella’s cheeks redden. “I’m so glad you think so. And thank you for allowing me the chance to share my idea with you both.”

“So, will the new pieces you designed this year fit this Confident Woman theme?” Jonah asks.

I give a half-shrug. “I dunno. Maybe. I’m actually not quite sure. They just came in last week and I haven’t bothered to look at them yet. I’ve been preoccupied,” I hastily admit.

Although, I should have made time already. Every year, I design new pieces of lingerie that are to be debuted first in Milan. I know I should be better prepared.

“Well, where are they? Let’s have a look.”

I scoff. Not at Jonah’s inquisition, but at my own damn self. “I left the boxes at home. I meant to throw them in the car, but forgot.”

Truth is, I was so excited to pick up Daniella, I left the boxes of newly designed pieces on my kitchen table. Yes, I’m a complete idiot.

“We can go get them, right?” Daniella softly interjects.

“That’s a great idea,” Jonah says, glancing at his watch. “But you two go right on. I have three more clients I’m meeting with today.” He gets up and pushes in his chair. “Great job, Daniella. I look forward to working with you.”

Daniella stands with her hands behind her back. “Thanks! Same here.”

“So, are you sure you don’t mind going with me to pick up the designs?” I ask Daniella.

“Oh, not at all, boss. I’m beyond elated that I get to see them!”