Stone Unhinged (The Stone Book 2)
Page 4
“I don’t think you’re ready right now. Give it time, but I do think you’ll be able to be intimate again; whether it be with me or someone else. When the right person comes along at the right time, your body will only have one way to respond.”
I consider this for a moment.
“Thank you. I hope you’re right.”
Chuckling, Bradley says, “Of course I am. I’m always right.” That charming smile of his again! “Sleep well, Mallory. I’ll call you when I find a free moment. I’ll lock up behind myself.”
“Goodnight, Bradley.”
~
My last month in the States before embarking on my new journey has been incredible. I have spent time with my friends and family, and even fit in some time to schedule a few dates with Bradley. He has been extremely thoughtful throughout this entire relationship – something for which I will always be grateful.
Tonight is my last night in Maryland before I head out for London, and Madison is throwing me a surprise party. At least, it was meant to be a surprise, but Steven and Annie let it slip the other day as I was packing up files in my office. I’m a bit apprehensive of what Madison has in store for this gathering, but I am at least glad for the chance to see everyone again before I leave.
Walking into a bar called Lucky 21, I make my way back to the VIP area with Madison. As we finish our trek up the stairs, I’m greeted with warm welcomes and a boisterous chorus of “Congratulations” from the group. Passing through the onslaught of hugs, I am delighted to find that my entire family, as well as Steven, Annie, Mika, Kyle, Lilly, and Nancy, were able to come. Glancing around the room, I see little stations set up like all the major attractions in Europe. A French café with the Eiffel Tower; the London Bridge; a German Oktoberfest; a Greek Statue, and a small pergola of Italian grapes. Each station is full of small appetizers and beverages from that region: Madison has truly outdone herself.
“Madison, this is incredible! Did you make all this food?”
“I did. I wanted to do something special for you.”
Grabbing her in a tight embrace, I can feel the moisture building behind my eyes.
“I’m going to miss you, Madi.”
“Shoot, you know I’ll be coming to visit as soon as I can. And stop it with the tears. You’ll end up making me cry and I worked too damn hard on my makeup.”
Laughing and wiping the renegade tears from my face, I smile and walk with her arm in arm to talk with everyone.
By the end of the night, we are all so exhausted that our friend Brian, a bouncer at the club whom we met the last time we were here, has to call us cabs home. Tonight was amazing, but so bittersweet. As excited as I am, I know in my heart that I will miss everyone dearly. Fortunately, my mentor and former boss, Steven, will be joining me for this adventure, so I won’t be completely alone.
Entering my barren apartment, I throw the black jersey dress that I’m wearing into my small carry-on bag. I have packed two suitcases as well as a trunk, since I am unsure of how long I will be out of the country. The company is giving me a small allowance for anything else I may need once I arrive in London. They have also reserved two small, fully furnished apartments so that Steven and I will be comfortable.
A million thoughts racing through my mind, I turn out the light and take a deep breath. Climbing into bed, I say one quick prayer, hoping fervently that all goes well and that this truly will be my chance to make a fresh start.
Chapter 5
Nudged by Steven, I awake with a start as our plane begins its descent to the tarmac at Heathrow Airport. Delighted to be on solid ground after fourteen hours of flight, I quickly grab my purse and carry-on to exit the aircraft once the touchdown is complete
For a moment we are unsure of where to go, but almost immediately Steven and I are flagged down by an older gentleman who is holding a sign with our names. After grabbing our bags from the conveyor, we are instantly whisked away in a town car and taken to our apartments.
Our complex isn’t far from Hyde Park or the Thames River, so I am looking forward to a little bit of sight-seeing once I get settled. The one bedroom, one bathroom apartment is just the right size for me and offers impressive amenities. Steven sees me safely to my apartment and heads for his own while I begin to unpack. The agency gave us the next week to organize my office before meeting with the clients on Friday.
Pausing from the emptying of my suitcase, I realize I need to text my family and I can feel the excitement flow from my fingers.
believe I’m here. Will call when I get a chance.
I set my phone aside and finish putting away my things. Tucking the now empty suitcases under my bed, I meander over to the balcony and look out towards the streets of London. We are staying in the Kensington/Chelsea area and it is already bustling at 5:00am. Admiring the people on the sidewalk, a heavy knock has me pushing back from the railing and rushing to open the door.
“Hey, Steven. All settled?” I ask jubilantly.
“Yes ma’am. I called the missus and everything.”
“Good. I’m sure she misses you already. Did you want to do anything today?”
“I thought maybe we could take one of the red tourist buses around and then head over to our new office. The agency secured a location in an office space off Knightsbridge Green. Not far from us and it’s a great space.”
“That sounds incredible. I can’t wait to see it. But I won’t lie; I am very excited to see what I can around London.” Looking around the room in wonder, I can’t help but jump up and down a little, clapping my hands together. “Can you believe we’re here?” I exclaim. “This is like a dream!”
“Well, Mallory, you deserve it. You have worked so hard for the last seven years. You will do an excellent job.”
“It’s all because of you taking me under your wing,” I reply truthfully. “But come on! I can’t wait anymore. Let’s grab our cameras and be tourists.”
Nearly six hours of hopping from place to place later, we’ve made sure to hit all the major attractions such as The London Eye, the Tower of London, and Madame Tussauds. Finally walking into our new building, we press the elevator button for the fourth floor. As we ride up in silence, I notice I am wringing my hands in anticipation. The elevator announces us with a tiny “ding,” and we find ourselves in a small reception area that leads to a series of offices bordering the wall. Cubicles line the hallway, easily fitting thirty staff members. Continuing down the hall, Steven and I stop, at last, in front of an office door. It reads “Senior Director and Account Executive” – right below that, the words "Mallory Winston” are etched carefully into the frosted glass.
My heart nearly explodes.
“Wow,” I whisper, reaching a hand out to touch the delicate letters of my name.
“Come on,” Steven says with a smile. “Let’s check out your new space.”
“I’m still in shock, Steven. I can’t believe that they have already put my name on the door! What if I decide not to stay?”
Laughing, Steven continues through the door, holding it open for me.
“Mallory, you’re a bright girl, but you would be an idiot to turn this down after everything you’ve been through.”
Joining in his laughter I add, “So I’ve been told.”
Glancing around the office, I am impressed by the beautiful mahogany furnishings with their elegant, modern designs. It’s very sleek, to say the least.
“So, I guess starting Monday I have employees?”
“Yes, Monday. Everyone here is local and I have spent quite a bit of time in the hiring process bringing everyone up to speed: you know, what your job will be, what we expect of them, etc, etc. Overall, they know you have the final say on all projects and who receives what clients. You will be the end all, Mallory, and they are all very excited to meet you.”
“Do you think they will be concerned when they see how young I am?”
“Thank you, I needed the encouragement. I’m actually very nervous.”
“Don’t be, they’ll love you. And if not,” he chuckles, eyes twinkling, "You can always have them replaced.”
I smile and look around the office a bit more, when suddenly we hear someone dropping boxes out in the hall while shouting a few explicit words. Rushing out to see what’s going on, we find a tiny blonde trying to pick up a bulky box of office supplies that has been dropped.
“Hey, are you ok? Can we help you?”
“Holy shit!” She gasps, “I didn’t realize anyone was here,” she says, clutching her hand to her chest.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Mallory and this is Steven,” I add, extending my hand.
“Oh! Ms. Winston, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Bea, or Beatrice. I’m your new receptionist,” she explains as she returns my offered handshake.
“Bea, it’s wonderful to meet you, but please call me Mallory.”
Helping her pick up the dropped supplies, Steven and I help her organize them in the cabinet behind her ebony desk. As I stack some extra legal pads onto the lower shelf, I ask her something that’s been on my mind.
“Bea? I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I don’t seem to detect a European accent. Instead, I seem to hear a Southern one. Where are you from originally?”
“Not at all. I was born in Savannah, Georgia, but I moved here about five years ago,” she says as she lifts her head and pushes her black-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose from where they had slid down.
“I’ve never been to Savannah, but I have heard it’s beautiful. What brought you all the way to England?”
She pauses for a moment, pushing a wisp of blonde hair back from her forehead.
“Um, well, boyfriend. Or, actually… ex-boyfriend. Bad break-up,” she says, then rushes past the subject. “But I love it here so I decided to stay.”
“Well, I am glad you did,” I reply, taking one last glance around the room. “Are you finished setting up? Would you like to join me and Steven for dinner?”
“Really?” she asks, a thousand-watt smile illuminating her heart-shaped face and I am suddenly struck by her resemblance to Reese Witherspoon. “I would love to!”
We exit the office and stroll down the street, stopping at a pub where I order my first authentic meal: fish, chips and a pint of good beer. Beatrice is filling us in on all the happenings in the area: where to go, what to do and so on. In fact, she fills us in on so much that she has dominated the conversation. I instantly love her.
After the meal, she takes us to the London Tube and shows us how the system works, though being familiar with the Metro in the Washington area, we catch on quickly. Luckily for us, the Tube drops us off a block or two from our apartment complex. Bea lives in a flat close by as well, so we all travel together.
When at last it’s time for me to settle in for the night, I find I am unable to rest due to the excitement of the day. I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, and I allow myself do something I haven’t done in months.
I close my eyes and picture Alex. His golden eyes, dark hair, and full lips beckon me and I slowly reach my hand across my stomach, down my shorts, to my warming area. Envisioning his large hands, I stroke my clitoris, hoping to heal the ache throbbing in my core. Rubbing and stroking, reveling in my own pleasure, I can feel myself reaching the pinnacle. Picturing Alex’s face close to mine and full of passion, as he would thrust up into me, I explode against my own hand. The ache in my heart intensifies as my release dwindles, and I fall asleep curled in a ball, clutching my hands to my chest as I yearn for the love I’ve lost.
The next day I find unloading my office supplies is a breeze, so I spend the week helping my employees get themselves settled. On December 31st, I ring in the New Year with Steven and Bea, sharing a toast at midnight. Even though he was working, I also make sure to video message Bradley and send him a kiss to wish him well. I miss him much more than I expected I to. I guess I should have realized that I would – after all, he quickly helped pull me out of the dark hole into which I was stumbling.
Friday dawns gray and chilly, and I dress in a warm cream sweater for my first day of work. Bea hands me a coffee along with a folder to review for our major client meeting today. I have assigned a handful of smaller clients to a few groups within the agency to keep them busy while I focus on this massive benefactor.
The client, a major department chain, is interested in pursuing a five-year contract if they are pleased with my first concept. But no pressure, I tell myself sarcastically. Perusing their file, I’m intrigued to discover that they donate ten percent of their profits to local charities, all done anonymously under various aliases. This knowledge piques my excitement.
“So, what do you think of the clients?” Steven asks by way of greeting as he walks into my office, sipping on his own mug of coffee.
“Honestly? I’m thrilled to work with them. Looking at their past campaigns, I think there is an entirely different direction we can take by focusing on the minority of their clientele instead of solely on the majority. The campaigns that I used for Kyle and Lily Johnson’s clothing line will be a great example to show them. I plan on using the same dynamics.”
“Interesting,” he says, nodding to himself. “I wouldn’t have thought to go that route, but it would be completely different from anything they’ve done. I definitely see potential there.” He smiles as he mulls it over in his mind. “Great thinking, Mallory! What time will they be joining us this morning?”
“Um, I believe in ten minutes,” I say sheepishly, glancing at my watch. “I need to go get the board room set up.”
“I’ll help,” he volunteers. “What can I do?”
Explaining the set-up I have in mind, we hastily make our way to the conference room.
By the time the clients arrive, I have the storyboard from the Johnson campaign on showcase and printouts of the strategies ready to go. Excited for the start of this new chapter in my life, I eagerly shake hands with the two men and the woman representing their company. We break the ice by discussing funny contrasts between the United States and England, then listen politely to their advice on which restaurants to patron.
Delving into the campaign process at last, I do my best to absorb their needs as I go over the storyboard I have prepared. To my delight, I find that the clients are fascinated by my concept and were actually hoping for a turn in this direction after seeing my previous work. I explain that the concept is related to another campaign, but I plan to use the same angle in theirs. All three are immediately pleased and express their desire to employ the program. Steven and I are overjoyed.
After we are given the official green light from the clients, we escort them out of the building. On the way out, the woman, Ms. Andrews, stops to hand us an agency-wide invitation to their annual charity ball tomorrow evening. She apologizes for it being short notice, but says there will be as many table settings as needed.
Glancing to Steven, he winks at me and I smile.
“Ms. Andrews, we would love to attend. I do have one other colleague I’d like to invite as well, if that’s ok. Her name is Beatrice Martin.”
“Certainly, Ms. Winston! Mr. James, we look forward to having you and Ms. Martin as well. Here is the invitation. It is formal dress, and there will be a charity auction along with a few prestigious benefactors.” She smiles sincerely and shakes our hands. “Enjoy your day!”
As they flag down a taxi, I turn and look at Steven, my smile melting into an expression of panic.
“Steven, I don’t have a formal dress! Do you even have a tuxedo?”
“No ma’am.” He smiles, surprisingly calm. "But this seems like an awful good reason to use a company credit card. Since it is a cl
ient-sponsored event and all,” he pauses for a moment, eyes twinkling as always, before adding, “In fact, I bet Beatrice will need a gown as well.”
“You’re so smart,” I say, shaking my head in amusement and delight. “Let’s go grab her and take an early lunch.” A sudden realization bubbles up inside of me and my excitement gets the best of me again, “In fact, I bet there will even be a red carpet for this event, judging by this gorgeous invitation.” We walk back inside, my heart light, and head for the elevator so we can find Beatrice.
Stepping into a shop on Knightsbridge, Steven heads directly for the suits, leaving Bea and I to our own devices. Browsing through the dresses, Bea is immediately drawn to a dark designer gown. The dress is strapless, starting with a black bodice and fading gently into an ombré of multi-colored pastels. With a belted waist that will look perfect on her figure, I know beyond a doubt that she will look stunning. I ask one of the sales women to place it aside in a fitting room for her while she browses a few more options. Rummaging through some other cocktail dresses and gowns, I set aside several I’d like to try on myself. No reason why I can’t purchase a few to have for a special occasion. When I believe I’m almost ready to head to the dressing room, a stunning purple gown catches my eye. My breath freezes in my throat.
“Mallory, are you ok?” Bea asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Too stunned to respond, I direct my words to the sales girl, “That dress - can I try it on?”
“Mallory, are you sure you’re alright?” Bea continues gently, looking even more confused.
“Yes, it’s just that color. It’s so gorgeous it just caught me off guard,” I say lightly, trying not to leave her with more questions. I’m simply not willing to divulge my stories, the ones about the deep purple roses that Alex used to send to me… the very same color reflected so perfectly in the gown that it might have been sewn from their petals.