CHAPTER 77
FRIYA
“Friyanna, explain, why the hell you didn’t stop your marketing team from putting up this rubbish line up,” the heavy Aussie accent of the man was filled with disappointment. He didn’t even congratulate me for a nice closing speech that earned a standing ovation.
My dad, Theodore George Smith’s grey eyes formed a slit, his lips stretched into a thin line and his jaw twitched several times before I managed to respond to him.
“You know I never intrude with the departmental campaigns. Our people were exceptionally good, they knew better than anyone. As long as they deliver and the end result was tons of money for stakeholders–I don’t think we have the right to meddle in their affairs,” I stated, matter-of-factly.
“Their lineup of endorsers was unorthodox. Strippers, porn
