by Dee, L J
“I was going to wear it tonight, but I wasn’t sure I could do it enough justice” I laughed as Tristan smiled. “You would look wonderful in the ‘Michaela’ Charlotte. You must wear it when we meet again” he smiled as I flushed, feeling the angry stare of Jason King at my side. I turned to smile, wincing as he squeezed my leg under the table, hard. “Very subtle Smith” he growled sarcastically and I could barely believe my plan was paying off. “Do you actually own that dress?” he whispered softly in my ear, as I turned and giggled, shaking my head. “Bit outside my price range King” I whispered back, the small smirk that played on his lips, suddenly making me aware that there was every chance he would expose my lie to Tristan, and my face fell.
“Charlotte represents one of the companies who’ll be pitching the advertising campaign for your collection Tristan, you could wear it then” he said turning to smile at me as my stomach lurched, and I noticed it was the first time I had ever heard him say my name. It sounded nice, rolling from his soft full lips I thought, before Tristan pulled me back from my strange, involuntary musings. “Yes you must wear the dress for the pitch” he smiled. “Bastard” I whispered coldly in his ear as soon as the conversation changed, unable to stifle my irritation. He turned and smirked at me, gloating in his mini victory and clearly revelling in my humiliation. I avoided his gaze for the rest of the meal which had obviously been designed with the models in mind. I was still starving after all three courses. “Do you want mine Smith?” Jason quipped, sliding me his untouched dessert. I nodded, tucking in as he grinned, raising his eyebrows before disappearing.
The lights went down in the main room as the CEO of London Models Inc welcomed Jason on stage to thunderous applause. His presence dominated the room, his speech about support for upcoming British designers through the King Foundation was humbling and humorous and I was utterly captivated, along with the rest of the room. It appeared that Jason King was a man who shared his success and vast resource to empower others to achieve their dreams.
He was currently blowing a rather wide hole in my preconceptions of the arrogant, self obsessed egomaniac I thought he was, and his delivery was powerful, charming and entrancing. If this was how he pitched his campaigns, I wasn’t surprised he was infinitely more victorious than me, and looking across at Tristan’s face, I knew my adversary had him too. The thought depressed me. Despite the success of my plan to gatecrash the event, I had landed myself in it with a little white lie which had come back to bite me in style, and after that speech, it was definitely, irrevocably and undoubtedly, round one to King. Maybe I should have stayed at home.
He was stopped by an array of beautiful models on his way back to the table, congratulating him and no doubt, trying to get his number, which irked me slightly and I needed to get out of there. The evening had only served as a stark reminder of his professional brilliance. It wasn’t as if I’d ever doubted his ability, but he was infinitely better than even I had realised. I would praise him on the wonderful speech and leave. He was smiling broadly at Tristan, who rose to shake his hand as he approached the table and the two conversed like old friends. I couldn’t hear the detail over the loud hum of chatter in the room, but picked up enough to realise what was at the heart of it, and my stomach sank.
Eventually, after soaking in the adulation, he returned to his seat, leaning across to kiss my cheek softly in a strangely affectionate gesture I was neither expecting nor prepared for, and my breath hitched. “You supported him through the King Foundation when he was starting out didn’t you?” The slight curve of his lip betrayed his answer before he spoke. I was already dead in the water on this account and the smug smile on his face was the final straw. “Great speech King” I hissed unable to stifle my growing irritation, grabbing my bag and bidding my farewells to the rest of the table, before marching into the foyer. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of another glance, retrieving my wrap from the cloakroom and all but collapsing with a huge sigh against the wall outside, gazing at the floor. He was just too damned good at this.
I didn’t look up as I heard the footsteps striding quickly across the concrete, stopping abruptly in front of me, as he grabbed my chin, pulling my face up roughly to meet his gaze, eyes dark endless pools, and burning into my own. “Don’t say it” I sighed quietly, unable to disguise my jaded mood, as his mouth crashed into mine with a kiss so passionate and powerful that for a moment it buckled my knees. My body was revelling in the intense heat radiating from his hard body and the way those beautiful soft lips caressed me, tongue expertly exploring my mouth, as my heart pounded out of my chest. It was a few moments before I came to my senses and pulled away, slapping his face, hard. I turned to hail a taxi as he stood staring open mouthed at me, a strange frown flickering across his brow. What the hell did he think he was doing?
Chapter 3
The next morning, I was a still a confused, irritated and frustrated mess, avoiding everyone including Katie, unable to reveal my humiliation at what had happened last night. I had been so excited about this account but from the relationship King already had with the designer, the pitch would probably be an exercise in futility, just as the Castle vodka one had been. A part of me had loved that kiss, revelling in the intensity of it, and I couldn’t deny that my body had responded with a ferocity that was frighteningly unfamiliar. Unfortunately, a bigger part of me just hated him, the man who was scuppering my professional efforts on almost a daily basis, and to such an extent I had begun to wonder if it was his personal mission to destroy my reputation.
It was gone three o’ clock when I returned to my desk to find the large box dominating the space. I assumed it was something to do with a current campaign but when I saw what was inside, my heart stopped. It was the ‘Michaela’ dress from Tristan’s collection. I opened the envelope which accompanied it, nestling in the soft pale tissue, pulling out the cream card embossed with two simple words.
Sorry. King.
My stomach was churning, the humiliation of last night and the reality of my dream account slipping through my fingers overwhelming me, and there was no way I could push the bubbling anger back. I put the lid back on the box, punching the button for the elevator, marching straight out of the lobby and right into the gleaming reception of King Marketing next door. “I’m here to see Mr King” I announced, trying hard to keep my cool. It was hardly the receptionists fault. “Is he expecting you?” “I doubt he’ll be surprised to see me, tell him Smith is here”. I plastered on a fake smile as she dialled the internal number. “Miss Smith?” she said waiting for an answer “just Smith” I smiled as she hit me with a puzzled stare. “Floor 20, go straight up, he’s on the right, you can’t miss it” she smiled gently, replacing the receiver. My stomach was exploding with nerves, barely contained fury and anticipation as I made my way up. I walked straight past Margaret, his personal secretary, barging into his huge impressive office without even bothering to knock, as he fixed me with his gaze, gesturing for me to sit. I didn’t. “What a lovely surprise Smith” he smiled. I didn’t return it, slamming the box on his desk.
“Doesn’t it fit?” he grinned before I could speak. “Maybe you should lay off the desserts” he finished, smirking at me, which only succeeded in fuelling my irritation and I felt like screaming at him. I was way off kilter and overreacting, but I couldn’t stop myself. The man was under my skin and I seriously needed to calm down, if only a little. “I can’t accept that” I shouted as he raised an eyebrow and it was hard to tell whether he was annoyed or amused. The dress was worth over £5000. “Why not? I dropped you in it with Tristan, it’s the least I could do”. No apology for the kiss then? I seethed inwardly. “Stay away from me King” I spat, turning towards the door.
There was a lot more I wanted to say as I made my way to leave, but my heart was pounding and I wasn’t altogether sure I’d get it all out without slapping him again. Not for the first time, he had me on the back foot, agitated and reeling. This whole thing just wasn’t my style. I was normally
so placid and level headed, but he seemed to have a unique ability to create a reaction within me that was utterly dramatic, overemotional and verging on histrionic. As I reached for the handle, his strong hand covered mine and he spun me around effectively pinning me against the solid wood, his arms resting on the door at either side of my head, his towering frame bearing down on me. The only thing I could focus on were the beautiful blue eyes and soft full lips that were tantalisingly close, and although every conscious thought was screaming otherwise, I was desperate for him to kiss me again. My heart was pounding as he leaned in and I caught his delicious woody scent, goose bumps flaring on my skin. “I’m not sure that’s going to be possible” he growled, suddenly moving away, my ragged breathing and heaving chest betraying my fraught emotions as I grabbed the handle and left King Marketing as quickly as my still swollen ankle would allow.
I stood on the street, gasping and panting, a mass of mixed up jumbled emotions running through my brain and for a few moments I wasn’t sure what to do, just standing there, as the throng of pedestrians jostled their way past and manoeuvred around me. I was angry and frustrated, irritated beyond measure, all the things I usually was around King, but today there was something else. I had wanted him to kiss me. I had actually wanted him to kiss me. What the hell was I thinking?
I regained my composure as best I could and made my way back to the office, stopping at the small kitchen to make myself a cup of tea in an effort to calm down and continue my day with the professionalism I was renowned for. I wasn’t about to allow Jason bloody King to affect that too. Katie rushed in as soon as she saw me. “What’s going on?” she eyed me sympathetically. “You looked like you were about to explode before. I’ve never seen you like this Lotty, do you want to talk about it?” I nodded slowly, I really needed an outside perspective on this whole scenario before I drove myself insane with it. “Wine bar after work?” I managed a small smile, stirring five sugars into my tea as she raised her eyebrows grinning. “You really are wound up aren’t you?” she offered, laughing gently. It was common knowledge, that the number of sugars in my tea was directly proportional to my current mood or the state of my nerves. Castle vodka had been a three sugar day, best buddy was a zero. It was fair to say, a five sugar brew was about as bad as it got.
I tried to get through the afternoon, pushing away the visions of Kings face, handsome and smouldering, bearing down on me against the door in his office and it was a task that was easier said than done, and not helped by the numerous Google alerts that persisted in popping up after I had programmed them into my computer yesterday. ‘King Foundation to back teenage entrepreneur scheme’ was one, ‘Jason King and Tamsin Lloyd’ was another, boasting an amazing picture of him and the famous supermodel leaving last night’s event together. Right after he had tried to kiss me. What a prick, I sighed to myself, shutting down the computer and praying that the end of the day would roll around quickly. Alison called for an update on the pitch for the fashion account, utterly bemused by my less than enthusiastic attitude. I wasn’t sure whether to share the information that I had even stiffer competition than usual, but decided to hold on to it for now. My boss was less than impressed at my current dip in performance and the last thing I needed was another showdown with anyone.
Eventually it was time to leave and as Katie and I took our usual booth, I was relieved to find Jason King nowhere in sight. “Go on” she smiled kindly as I sipped on my Chardonnay, revealing the lengths I had gone to last night to crash the London Models event, the information I’d uncovered, the kiss, the dress and the little run in that had taken place in Kings office this afternoon as she sat there slack jawed.
“Well fuck me” she grinned eventually “When are you going to shag him?” she laughed and it was my turn to be slack jawed, my shock preventing any words from forming as I shook my head. “Oh come on Lotty, it’s so obvious. If you want my advice, the only way around this is to sleep with him, get him out of your system and move on” she laughed as we were interrupted by a waitress who approached the table smiling. “The gentleman at the bar asked me to send these over” she gushed, looking over her shoulder, enamoured by the smirking, dark haired God leaning casually against a stool as he raised his glass. Katie raised hers back, mouthing the words ‘thank you’, then turned to grin at me as I put my head in my hands. He had to be kidding me.
“You’re going to have to help me think of another plan Katie, I’m not doing it” I said eventually, feeling the weight of Kings eyes all over me. “I don’t see why” she looked at him, before turning her attention back on me. “He is mighty fine and you’ve got to admit, there is no way he is going to be anything other than awesome in the sack” she laughed blowing out in an exaggerated gesture and I couldn’t help but laugh back. I looked across at the bar, relieved he was facing the opposite way and took the opportunity to drink him in. Strong broad shoulders, muscular, tall and dark with a face to make angels weep and if the speech last night was anything to go by, much more charming and humble than I’d ever given him credit for. Maybe she was right. There would definitely be worse ways to spend an evening, and I blushed at the thought, much to the amusement of Katie who simply said “that’s settled then”.
We proceeded to drink way too much wine, avoiding all conversation about Jason King, concentrating instead on how we could blow the fashion campaign out of the water. I couldn’t back out, I had to run with it so it had to be unique, new, different and better than anything my nemesis could dream up. Katie had some fabulous ideas, at least they seemed fabulous two bottles of wine in, and we arranged to run them by some of the creative’s first thing in the morning, providing we could remember them. We left two hours later, feeling enthusiastic, encouraged and more than a little tipsy, and as I looked across at the bar again, I noticed he had gone.
The meetings went well and the creative’s loved the idea of recreating a catwalk for the pitch itself. We would have to negotiate that Tristan’s team came to us to see it and it would be a significant investment to win the account. I wasn’t sure Alison would sanction it, particularly on my current performance. A solitary dog food commercial had seen me fall significantly down the Grayson executives sales rankings in the last eight weeks, so I was particularly impressed when she called me into her office just before six. Clearly word had spread. “We’re giving the fashion pitch to Ian Anderson” she said as I looked up at her incredulous. Fucking what? I had won more pitches than anyone for this company in the twelve months I’d worked here, only slipping recently when I was head to head with Jason King and I was pretty sure none of my colleagues would have fared any better on that front. At thirty years old the man owned King Marketing, one of the most successful agencies in London and was already a legend.
I shook my head and just stared, stunned into silence before she continued. “We still want you to work on the creative side Charlotte, Mr Grayson just wants to try Ian out with the pitch itself” she smiled as if I was supposed to be happy with that. She may as well have said ‘We want you to do all the hard work while Ian gets the glory and the not insignificant commission’. Well it wouldn’t be the first time. I took a deep breath, determined to reign in my anger, swallow my shock and maintain a professional demeanour. “No problem” I heard myself saying, despite the fact that it was indeed a huge problem, before returning to my desk, picking up my coat and leaving the building. With Katie out, there was only one thing for it.
“I’ll take one of those” I said to the older lady behind the counter with grey hair and kind eyes whose sympathetic smile suggested I wasn’t the only stressed out ad executive she’d seen here over the years. She brought joy to the world I thought, remembering back to a time before Jason King when I had felt exactly the same. Dancing turtles, cute kids and sophisticated models that would encourage the great and the good to pour into the local shopping centre and improve their lives with products that brought a smile to their faces. I could still do that, I mused, provided I could win the pitch its
elf and currently, that was the prevailing obstacle.
I didn’t even order a drink, my eyes were too absorbed in the luxurious looking whip of pure double cream that adorned the top of my huge slab of triple chocolate cake. I wasn’t sure even five sugars would suffice on a day like this, so I was going all out. I watched my colleagues and competitors filing into the wine bar as I took the last seat available by the window, relishing the sweetness of the cream against my lips and sighed deeply. I heard his laughter before I saw him, which gave me the perfect opportunity to get my head down, tuck into the cake and ignore the world outside. Unfortunately he was not ignoring me, and as I looked back up, he was monitoring me through the window of the little cafe, head tilted and assessing me closely as I stuffed a second forkful into my mouth. I still hadn’t finished the first, and I turned away quickly. He was exactly the last thing I needed right now, and I prayed he would just stick with his army of adoring staff and carry on walking to the wine bar on the corner, but something told me that the way today was panning out, I wouldn’t be that lucky.
“Eating your feelings Smith?” he smirked as I nodded. Right now I couldn’t give a fuck what he thought about me, my professional reputation was on the line and that was much more of an issue than Jason King. I didn’t bother to look up, I just didn’t have the strength to fight today. “Coffee?” he said standing at the side of me as I continued to tuck into my cake. “Tea” I said, still gazing down as he made his way to the counter. I’d almost forgotten he was there until I heard the firm shout of “Smith” above the chattering of the other patrons, and it was all I could do to stave back unhappy tears. I was really not in the mood for his goading. I looked up, forking another lump of chocolate onto my tongue. ‘Sugar’ he mouthed as I put my open palm up. This was a five sugar moment, if ever there was one. They were coming more and more regularly lately, and my uninvited guest was the overriding reason.
