by Dee, L J
Katie and the junior creative’s, were waiting for me in a large booth at the wine bar, chattering excitedly about the design concepts and ideas they were working on as I walked in and I noticed them whispering when anyone went by, just in case the walls had ears. Katie had trained my little team well. “I’ll set up a tab” I grinned, making my way over to the bar, noticing the brooding presence of Jason King out of the corner of my eye. I decided ignoring him would be childish and was secretly keen to see if our erotic tryst had mellowed him any. I turned and smiled as he held my gaze, switching his attention from the slim redhead who he’d no doubt been charming only seconds before, and who glowered at me with a look that would curdle milk.
He looked glorious, having discarded his jacket and signature tie, lounging against the bar in a crisp white shirt, open at the collar as he grinned and made his way over. “Where have you been Smith?” he smiled as I smiled back. “Just been busy. Why, did you miss me?” I said, turning to the bartender to order two bottles of Chardonnay and opening a tab. He frowned at me. “What are you working on? Ian doesn’t seem to know” he said, his mouth set in a firm line as he gestured to my colleague who was socialising with his group at the end of the bar. “Nothing exciting. Still reeling from losing the fashion account”. His eyes narrowed and by the way they were twinkling, I knew he wasn’t buying it. I had to come up with something believable. If he turned his charm on the junior creative’s, they wouldn’t stand a chance. Nor I suspected, would Katie. Hell, even I might wobble, I laughed inwardly.
“It’s a government schools project. Its early stages, unconfirmed, they’re trying to get some ideas together in case they get the funding. That’s not even secured yet” I shrugged. “Ian says Alison’s gifted him another major account”. I gazed up at him with deliberately sad eyes, a look he returned with a genuinely concerned frown. “I don’t know” I said gazing at the floor. I was loving my devious little plan, but playing the victim was turning out to be infinitely more difficult than I thought, and I actually felt bad for lying to him. God knows why, the man had been the bane of my professional life for the last two months. I was saved by a brief intervention from the redhead who came to enquire where her drink was, her face like thunder as he gestured her away.
“About what happened in my office Smith...” he started as I put my hand up to stop him mid flow. Part of me was desperate to know what he was going to say, but there was no way I was going down that road again. Best to put an end to it now. “Don’t” I said simply, flushing lightly and deciding that changing the subject would be my best bet. “Why is it Ian for Anderson, but Smith for me?” His ensuing laugh and dazzling smile making my heart flip involuntarily as visions of him fucking me against his office door burst into my brain. “Don’t you like it?” he smirked, gorgeous full lips curving annoyingly. The Jason King I knew and loathed was back I thought, tutting and shaking my head at him, returning to the booth, armed with two bottles of wine and several glasses.
I pulled my buzzing phone from my bag and read the text. I knew who it was from, I had saved his number.
Frustrated Smith? I’ve got a cure for that you seemed to like
I fired a text back, glancing over my shoulder and slightly satisfied that my reply wiped the smug smile from his face.
Use it on the redhead, she looks like she needs it
I warned Katie and the junior creative’s who I absolutely adored, that under no circumstances must they mention anything to King or Ian Anderson about what we were up to, bringing them up to speed on the imaginary Government schools project. “What shall we say if he asks us about the details?” said Sasha, a humorous bright young graduate who had only just started. “You’re a creative, use your imagination” I laughed as we chinked glasses and Katie grinned at me broadly. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night Lotty, I think you’ve got him rattled” she laughed. “Well that would be a first, maybe I should have lost my pants eight weeks ago” I whispered back as she raised her eyebrows, across the table. “Lost them?” and I couldn’t help but laugh. She could work it out, I wasn’t sharing that particular detail. “Long story” I grinned taking a huge glug of Chardonnay and catching the eye of a gorgeous almost stranger who had just walked in.
I wasn’t sure of my motives, but I knew that irritating King would be a happy side effect as I left the booth. I wasn’t really sure why I wanted to, but the sight of the redhead fawning all over him was irking me more than I’d thought. I bounded up to the handsome model as he bent to kiss my cheeks. “Charlotte” he grinned “It’s great to see you again. I looked for you after the dinner at the London Models party but I heard you’d left, I was hoping for a dance” he smiled, his deep chocolate eyes twinkling with humour. “I’ll take a wine instead Robbie” I giggled, finishing the rest of my Chardonnay and asking him who he was modelling for, and how the architecture was going. “It’s a mad time, my finals are coming up and I honestly don’t know how I’m going to cope with it all” he shrugged, smiling. I offered as much support as I could, straightening immediately as I felt the warm firm hand slide around my waist from behind, a familiar masculine scent and soft cool breath on the back of my neck sending a surge of unexpected electricity down my spine.
“Don’t fuck the model Charlotte” he whispered gently into my ear and before I could turn to berate him for his barefaced cheek, he was gone, striding towards the door as I stood there stunned. I didn’t know what to make of it. Half of me was furious, the other half melting at the sound of my name, rolling like smooth caramel from his tongue, which had taken me straight back to the incident in his office which I’d enjoyed far more than my logical brain wanted to admit. “Are you OK?” Robbie smiled as I nodded, handing me a Chardonnay as I beckoned a stunned Katie over to join us. I needed the moral support and I just wanted to get out of there.
I made the introductions and they hit it off, Katie immediately enamoured by the gorgeous looks and warm personality of the student and part time model, as I put two more bottles on the tab for my secret helpers, made my excuses and left, waving them goodnight and collapsing against the wall outside as I waited for a taxi. How could Jason King blindside me so much with one single comment and turn a one sugar day into a five sugar day in the space of a few seconds. I half wished the cafe was still open for a slab of red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting as I stood there, listening to the chatter of the smokers who were speculating on the upcoming advertising awards. I didn’t hear my name among the guesswork, but plenty of mentions of Jason King and Ian Anderson, of all people, which I found infinitely more annoying.
Almost since the day I started at Grayson, that man had done everything he could to make my life hell. I wasn’t sure why, but as my success grew and I started to win more and more of the big accounts I realised he was threatened by me. The company was thriving and we were in the enviable position of choosing our clients, offered far more potential contracts than we could handle and there was more than enough to go around. According to Katie, before I came on board, he was the big fish in the big pond and he wanted it to stay that way. The last thing he wanted was his professional ego to be dented, especially by a woman and it probably didn’t help that I’d once blown him out. He believed his place was at the top and he’d do anything to get there. Much like King, but infinitely less attractive and with absolutely none of the charm, I reluctantly admitted to myself.
“Still frustrated?” I heard the voice from the depths of the shadows well before I saw him emerge from the alley at the side of the wine bar. There was a serious edge to his tone, for once it wasn’t laced with cynicism or dripping with sarcasm as he walked across to face me, just as the redhead rounded the same corner catching me with a steely gaze and I couldn’t help but laugh as I looked between them. “Seriously?” I frowned, walking down the street, shaking my head but I didn’t make it five hundred yards before the firm hand was grabbing my elbow and forcing me around to face him. “Get the fuck off me King” I yelled as he st
epped back, eyebrows raised, stunned momentarily by the force of my words, before the smirk flickered briefly on his soft full lips. “I don’t know what the hell your game is but I really don’t want to play anymore.” I was way more upset at the situation than I knew I should have been.
“I’ve got you rattled haven’t I Smith” he said simply, a statement not a question, the full arrogance of the man I loathed shining like a beacon in stunning HD on the dimly lit street. I bit my lip, pushing down my anger, determined not to show him the depths of my hurt. “No King, I’m disappointed in myself for going anywhere near a man who thinks a knee trembler down a back alley over the age of sixteen is acceptable. That said, up against the door of your office isn’t that much better and I’ve only got myself to blame for that. I’ve chalked you up as an experience never to be repeated. I’m not pitching against you anymore so it’s not in your interests to waste your time or your energy trying to rattle me, annoy me or indeed do anything with me.”
He assessed me closely, his tongue making a slow path across his bottom lip and I couldn’t help but follow its delicious journey despite myself. “I was letting her down gently while she had a cigarette, not fucking her. Besides, I like rattling you”. I let out a huge sigh, as much an exhale of relief about the redhead as it was pent up frustration at Kings constant badgering, but there was no way I was letting him know that. “Why Jason?” I said, noticing his face softening as I used his name, wondering if he was having the same momentary flashbacks as I had earlier. “Because you’re as sexy as fuck when you’re angry Charlotte” and my breath hitched, his blue eyes burning into mine and I almost grabbed him, pulling him towards me, just as sanity arrived in the shape of Katie, Robbie and the five junior creative’s. They were about to save my professional butt and it suddenly hit me that I owed them a lot more than diving into the arms of the very man, who at my insistence, we were trying to outmanoeuvre.
“I thought you’d gone home. We’re going to a club are you coming?” smiled Katie, slicing through the tension like a knife. “Sure, why not?” I said quickly, plastering on a fake smile before glancing at Jason, his eyes losing none of the intensity they had blazed before as he held my gaze. “Goodnight King” I smiled. “Smith” he growled simply, turning and making his way back into the bar. “What did we just interrupt?” grinned Katie, hanging her slightly inebriated frame on the arm of a very happy Robbie as I stepped forward flagging two black cabs, gazing mindlessly into the night sky through the window as we sped away to Kensington.
The club was the blow out I needed, pulsating with bass and had been literally jumping, as had I. I had wound up granting Robbie Hurst his dance after all, so had Katie and every one of the junior creative’s and by the time we fell out of there at three o’clock, our friendships had been clearly cemented, forged between cocktails and alternative house mixes. Katie had asked what she’d been interrupting on the street and it was a question I’d been unable to answer convincingly. I wasn’t sure what had happened with King myself, I was less and less sure around him these days, fluctuating from outright frustration to absolute arousal and every feeling in between. If last night was anything to go by, I couldn’t be certain that screwing him out of my system had altogether worked. I wondered if doing it again would help me decide, before mentally slapping myself. He was under my skin more than ever right now and I was mighty thankful for the distraction that work was providing. With three pitches on Monday, I spent Saturday hammering into my laptop to finalise the presentations with a thumping head and two paracetamol every four hours until I crawled exhausted into bed again. Sunday I needed a run. This time, I chose another park.
“Do you want me to come and help you prep for tomorrow?” Katie called just as I got in, pulling my trainers off, throwing them across the hall and towelling myself down. “I can’t ask you to do that Katie, it’s Sunday. You’re already pulling out all the stops for me on this” I smiled down the line. “Fine, but call me if you need me, do you think you’ll be ready?” “Yes. I’ll be back in the office late tomorrow and I’ll be burning the candle well into the night. If you and the guys can finalise aspirin and long handled matches, that would be beyond awesome, and I’ll let you all decide on what we take next” I grinned as she laughed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fertiliser or fungal nail cream, however will I choose” and I laughed along. It was hardly the stuff that dreams were made of, but if I won enough accounts I’d be edging up those sales rankings with a shot at a nomination for Exec of the Year and no one, but no one, would see it coming.
My good mood persisted as I practiced my pitch until a Google alert brought me crashing down to earth and reaching for a mini roll. It was a poor substitute for a good slice of cake but it was there, languishing solitarily in the bottom of my biscuit tin and I couldn’t help but take pity on it. At least it was limited edition, I thought, biting through the chocolate to reveal surprisingly tasty raspberry ripple flavoured layers of sweetness. It didn’t help, and neither did a five sugar brew, so I sent the text;
‘Hypocrite: Somebody who pretends to have admirals, principles, beliefs or feelings but behaves otherwise, especially a person whose actions belie stated beliefs.
I couldn’t believe his nerve. ‘Don’t fuck the model Smith’ he’d said at the bar, and there he was as large as life on the sodding internet, strolling arm in arm with the supermodel again, looking every inch as arrogant as ever, less than twenty four hours later. Where the fuck did he get off saying that?
?
Was the short reply that irked me even more. Telling me ‘not to fuck the model’ then doing the self same thing was the height of hypocrisy. Maybe all the mutual orgasms they’d shared had fried the synapses in his brain. I looked at the pictures again. They were absolutely stunning together, all dark black hair, dazzling blue eyes and chiselled cheekbones and I hated how angry it made me, how he felt it OK to berate me for speaking to Robbie when he was clearly screwing Tamsin Lloyd. Cheeky bastard. I sent my reply. If I was irritated enough to send the first text, I was sure as hell going to let him know why.
‘Don’t fuck the model’. Ring any bells?
My reaction was completely over the top and as the thoughts came more and more frequently I pushed them back, unable to quite believe what I was feeling. It came in the form of a text, like a punch in the gut, one simple word and I couldn’t deny it to myself any longer;
Jealous?
Yes. Whether I liked it or not, and I most certainly did not. I couldn’t reply, forging ahead all week with the presentations, more determined than ever to get my professional life back on track, and banish Jason King from my thoughts. Through a whirlwind of five pitches, with five more in the prepping process and even the junior juniors being brought in to brainstorm the accounts that were left on the report, by Friday afternoon I had just about managed it. Katie was grinning as I walked into the kitchen, shocked at the amount of work we’d managed to get through, and the fact that despite growing curiosity from the other executives that even our happy little band of juniors had managed to keep a lid on the clandestine nature of our secret operation. “He’s asked about you every night this week you know” she said fixing me a cup of tea as I flushed, smiling. I was trying desperately hard to push him to the back of my mind, every time he popped in there. I had cancelled the Google alerts and all speculation about the advertising awards that was buzzing around the building was banned in my office, but the involuntary flip of my stomach betrayed that this was welcome news.
“What’s he said?” I aimed for casual as Katie raised her eyebrows, staring at me, it clearly wasn’t going to work. “He’s asked where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re doing it with, and he’s tried to sound every bit as casual about it as you are now” she grinned. I couldn’t help the small giggle that broke through my lips. “I just told him you were busy working on some Government schools project. He asked Ian Anderson about it and Ian went to Grayson. Grayson told Ian he didn’t know about it and cal
led Alison.” I stared at her open mouthed “Shit” was all I could manage as she nodded seriously. “Alison called me in to tell me when you were out on a pitch”.
My heart sank and I could just envisage Alison’s pursed lips and sour face with her glasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose, as she hauled Katie’s arse over the coals. “I’m so sorry Katie, what did she say?” She was laughing hard, pulling off an incredibly accurate impression of Alison. “I’m not questioning her Grayson, the girls the best we’ve got and she’s bringing it in like no one else. If that stops, I’ll ask her. If she’s managed to sniff out something that’s not been released yet, then it’s hers. If you intend to ask Charlotte to give up another plum pitch to Anderson, or anyone else, then you’ll have to do it yourself”. “No way. She really said that?” I gasped, as Katie grabbed my chin laughing, to push my duly stunned mouth back together. “Honestly Lotty, word for word” and I was shaking my head incredulously, more than a little satisfied I now knew my boss had more than a grudging respect for me, she had never shown it before.
