by Lee, Corri
“Good god,” she announced, “he’s grooming you.”
“Actually I think the holistically blessed staff at Alexander Health Spa will be doing that.” Bethany scoffed into her coffee and turned the monitor back to face her.
“That’s not what I meant, Bethany.” Her brow furrowed for a moment before she spluttered into the mug and gaped at me.
“Holy shit, you’re right.”
“He is not grooming me. He’s mentoring me.”
“Hah. Semantics, Cecelia.” Eleanor snorted and nodded her head in the direction of approaching footsteps. “I’m telling you now, as a friend-…” her voice dropped to a whisper, “… as good as your novel is, this isn’t about you making him money. Escape now, while you still have a soul.”
I was floored with a deep sense of unease when a hand brushed my shoulder and a beguiling voice spoke from above me.
“Miss Douglas, good morning.” I hazarded a glance up at him and felt an unexpected twist discomfort in my side- Mr Alexander wore the compulsory black suit trousers and black shirt, but today wore a royal blue tie- the colour of which was a direct match to my borrowed blouse. I sank down a few inches as his gaze passed over me and the smallest of smirks reached his mouth. “Impeccable taste, Miss Marshall. Shall we, Miss Douglas?” I scrambled to my feet and shot a poisonous glare at Bethany and Eleanor, who stared at me with a combination of envy, shock and mirth.
I wore a convincing guise of calmness and serenity as I followed Mr Alexander down to his office and took my seat at his desk with neither invitation nor hesitation. Fury fuelled me- the idea that he was trying to buy my cooperation and hoping to mould me like some sort of Cinderella story cut wounds so deeply into my ego that I had no idea I could feel so raw. I was not an inferior being, but by the same note, why me? Of course the success of my novel would bear no standing on his hefty bank balance, so why was I being targeted and indulged?
When he sat down opposite me, his face said ‘business’. I pushed aside my unwelcome concerns that I was somehow being manipulated and set myself to assert some independence. He may not have stood anything to gain, but I did. But if he stood to gain nothing, why me? It always came back to that question. Stop being stupid, I scolded myself, there are other publishers if this goes wrong. Right. Moving on.
“Are you alright, Miss Douglas?” His voice approached me like a serpent in the Garden of Eden, slowly but boldly, and I presumed with some deception.
“I’m fine.” My response was pointed and brisk. “Would you like to see the revision?”
“Please.” I hesitated for a moment before pulling the print out from my laptop bag. He was going to tear me to shreds. “Why do you look so timid?”
I ran my tongue over my teeth awkwardly before handing him my work. “I’ve worked on this tirelessly, but I’m not happy with it. I don’t want you to think I’ve lost my edge.”
“I see.” His fingers brushed the underside of his chin as he read and reread the passage. Some time and silence passed between us before he set the papers to one side and steepled his fingertips, his elbows resting on the arms of his seat. The tension was excruciating. “You’ve never indulged in a day of sloth in your life, have you, Miss Douglas?”
My breath caught- I’d expected a barrage of criticism, not my life story. Again. “It’s not in my nature.” Since I started primary school, there had never been a day in my life when I hadn’t worked. My weekends were for homework and my school holidays were for advanced studies. It hadn’t been a rule that my parents had enforced, but my mind was not at rest if it was idle. This habit had followed me into adulthood- I had worked in the bar since I had started university and a day had never passed when I had not been in there either working or drinking.
“You didn’t relax with the champagne on Saturday?”
“I had work that evening and I couldn’t bear to let my ideas for this revision stew until Sunday. I don’t sleep if my words aren’t documented.” Mr Alexander looked at me gravely for a moment before nodding.
“I see. We’ll revisit and revise later in the week. Now…” He rose from his seat and paced over to the chaise longue. He didn’t sit- he simply stood with one hand resting at its head. “… Enlighten me on your motivation to write from the view point you chose.”
“Pardon me?”
“From the view point of your female protagonist in past tense.”
My mind hastily whirred into motion- I could answer questions like these for days on end. “I don’t know enough about the male psyche to write from that angle, third person lacked empathy, and I could produce greater insight from retrospect.” Again, he nodded, and then spun around to spread himself across the chaise longue.
“So, speaking as your protagonist, how did she feel to be taken under his wing?” I frowned at him and wondered how much of my novel he’d really read.
I cocked my head and pursed my lips. “Grateful. That emotion is clearly portrayed.”
“But what else?” He angled his head to meet mine and matched my expression. “He’s highly sought after and has his pick of clients to work with. Why did he pick her when he could have had his pick of any budding actress at a greater rate of pay?” His notion mirrored the unspoken question in my mind. Why me when he could have chosen any young beautiful writer? He raised a hand to halt me as I opened my mouth and pointed to my laptop bag. “Don’t tell me. Tell your novel.” My mind froze for a moment before I reached into the bag for my laptop and set it up on his desk. If anyone had walked in at that moment, they may have dared to think that I was his equal.
My fingers paused over the keys for a moment before I started to type. The similarities between the plot of my novel and my own situation were uncanny. Both men had to answer a question- why? But both my protagonist and I were too afraid to ask. I could seek answers or I could vent. I chose to vent. The words flowed like rivers from my soul as I wound my empathy into her glee. I was flattered, but I was confused- grateful for the help but bereft of the feeling that I deserved it.
Eventually my thoughts began to falter. I was tired and distracted by the two imposing male presences in my life. They were both spoiling me, but I didn’t want to be spoiled. I wanted to be free to make my own choices. I do not compromise!
“Something wrong, Miss Douglas?” His voice brought me back into the now, and I realised that I had been staring into space for some time. I must have looked deranged.
“I’m tired. I can’t sleep if there’s an issue to be resolved.” I wondered if he could tell that my issues spread beyond my novel.
I held my breath as he rose from the chaise longue and strolled over to me. “Relax a while.” His left hand settled on my shoulder while his right closed my laptop. His fingers lingered on its top. “You’re wary of me.” No shit, Sherlock- you ooze ‘closet nut case’.
“Do you blame me?” I breathed in exasperation.
“You weren’t wary on Friday. What’s changed?” Shared irises, mercy calls, business proposals in Chryslers, flowers, silk underwear, champagne, - what hadn’t changed?
“You’re my mentor, essentially a teacher. I feel like I’m in detention with my headmaster.”
His laughter was warm and friendly. “How old are you, Miss Douglas?”
“Twenty-four.”
“So why do you feel like my subordinate when you’re older than me?” My jaw dropped in surprise. Nathaniel Alexander seemed so much older than me- so much wiser and more distinguished. If his success wasn’t supposed to make me feel inferior, I didn’t know what was.
“Age is a moot point, Mr Alexander. Hierarchy isn’t often determined by seniority anymore.”
“So it’s my money?” I shifted in my seat enough to look at him without dislodging his hand. Now that I knew that he was younger than me, he looked younger. His features seemed softer and, like hearing him make his own coffee, he seemed more normal and human. However, for the demands he was making of me, he no longer had age to mask the fact that he was a pre
tentious bastard.
I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and scowled. “You could be a pauper and it wouldn’t change the fact that you’re vetting and ‘improving’ me because you think I’m too homely to show my face at book signings. Okay, you may tower over me with your billions and your literary expertise, but by no means do you have the right to call me ugly.”
Mr Alexander sighed and swept a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t what I meant. You looked phenomenal on Friday-…”
“So I’ve heard.”
“… as you do this morning. But, by your own admission, you can’t achieve this without Miss Marshall’s help. I just want to provide you with the means to do this independently.”
“So there’s nothing wrong with me?” His usually stony resolve cracked for a moment and his face showed me something almost affectionate as he rolled his eyes.
“Oh, please. Consider my proposal an act of unexpected benevolence. I’m not your boss- I’m not paying you to work for me. The sooner you realise that, the easier it’ll be to work with me on this novel. I want you to succeed.”
“But why?” The words left my mouth before I could stop them and I bit my lip in guilt.
His eyes caught mine for a moment before he stammered and sighed. That momentary lapse in his professionalism revealed something entirely unexpected- he either didn’t know or didn’t want to tell me why. He was really just a twenty-something who was dealt an extremely fortunate hand in life, and he didn’t hold all the confidence or all the answers in the world. In some aspects of life, he was as clueless as any other mere mortal. “Do I need a reason, Cecelia?”
I suddenly felt a deep wave of sympathy for him. I had been evasive- something he clearly wasn’t used to. On a whim, I winked at him and shoved his shoulder. “We’ve had this conversation before, Mr Alexander- we’re not on a first name basis yet. How would you like it if I started calling you Nathaniel?”
“I prefer Nate.” He raised an eyebrow at me and a look crept across his face that said ‘make your move’.
“It’s Miss Douglas, Nate. Honestly, respect your elders.” Humour crackled in the air between us, though neither of us dared to laugh.
“Well, Miss Douglas, how about a coffee break?”
I sighed in resignation and nodded. I needed the caffeine buzz. “Absolutely. But do you have a bathroom hiding down here?” He raised a hand above my head and nodded to the wall behind me. There was a deep red door to my right, barely discernible from the walls around it. “Oh, I see. Pardon me.” I rose from my seat and walked to the door, pausing with my hand on the ornate black glass knob.
“I’ll pack your laptop away for you, Miss Douglas, you won’t need it again.”
“Okay, thank you.” The memory of what was packed into my laptop bag sprung into the front of my mind and I spun around on the spot, completely aghast. “No, wait!”
I turned just in time to hear his harsh intake of breath and coughed out laugh as he pulled the chemise set from the bag at an excruciatingly slow pace, either that or time slowed. My instincts told me to flee, so I did. Into the most illogical place possible.
Nathaniel Alexander’s basement level bathroom.
Chapter Six
I locked the door behind me and slunk against it, burying my face into my hands, thoroughly crippled by my embarrassment. What the hell had possessed me to bring that underwear with me? I glanced around the bathroom, desperately searching for an escape route.
The bathroom was as grand as the office- deep red walls and bold black beams, black and white chequered floor and beautifully sculpted fixtures. But not a hidden door or fire exit in sight. I stared at my reflection wistfully in the fleurs-de-lis embellished bronze framed mirror and grimaced. My white-grey irises were reflecting the deep scarlet hue of my cheeks and every inch of my exposed skin portrayed my humiliation.
I leaned my head back against the door and whimpered pathetically. I could hear the clatter of ceramic in the office- he was still making coffee after his discovery, like it didn’t even matter. With no alternative options available, I had only one choice. I had to face him like this happened every day.
I steeled myself and unlocked the door slowly. Stop hesitating. I exhaled steadily as I slid out of the bathroom and took my seat at the desk as impassively as possible. Mr Alexander raised an eyebrow at me and nodded towards a tray laden with hot beverage paraphernalia and a large black mug.
“I was starting to worry that you’d realised the stained glass window in there opened into a fire escape.”
I winced in disbelief and laughed. “Shit.”
“You’re embarrassed.” My forehead creased into a sardonic frown. He had a gift for stating the obvious.
“Obviously.”
He cradled his mug between both hands and murmured a note of surprise. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
I paused mid-movement as I reached for the sugar bowl. “Pardon me?”
“Bring your sloth?”
My hand fell to the table as I was struck by a mind numbing stupor. “That is what you meant.”
“Yes, but as I said, I didn’t actually think you’d do it. I’m deeply impressed, Miss Douglas- we might make a deviant of you yet.” To my relief, he ignored my once again reddened face and took a sip from his coffee. “I have another meeting after lunch, are you working tonight?” I nodded and glanced down at my laptop bag, secretly hoping that my chemise set was still tucked into the pocket. “Tomorrow?”
“I have a Thames River Cruise appointment with Cole Fiore for lunch, and then work.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Appointment? That’s quite an extravagant ‘appointment’.” I bit down on my bottom lip, unwilling to elaborate. “Come now, Miss Douglas, I think we’re past embarrassment. I’m offering to extend an impartial male opinion.” I had my doubts that his opinion was truly ‘impartial’, but something told me that his input might be valuable.
“He’s trying to grind me down with grand romantic gestures.”
“But?” I picked at an invisible blemish on the desk to mask my awkwardness.
“But he doesn’t have the wow factor that I need to ignite my interest. He’s handsome and very charming but-…” I rolled my head around my shoulders and sighed. “… I don’t know. I could maybe grow to like him. There again, I might not. I don’t see why I should take the chance.”
Mr Alexander drummed his fingers across the desk and hummed contemplatively. “Extravagance, compatibility, the world shifting out of view when you breathe the same air- are these requisite to winning your heart?” It was like the man was reading my mind.
“Yes. I settle for nothing less than an immediate connection.”
“Well,” he squinted for a moment before nodding towards my laptop bag, “judging by current behaviour, I should say you’re in a good mentality to make some calculated risks.”
I struggled to comprehend his point. “Calculated risks?” He nodded and shrugged.
“A man is making an utmost effort to win your heart through the methods you deem necessary to spark a romantic interest. Does the risk of pursuing something that doesn’t immediately fit the criteria but may end in a whirlwind love affair outweigh the risk of steering clear and potentially missing out on a soul mate?”
I snorted and raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t help but feel that he was being a little hypocritical. “That’s rich coming from the man who won’t entertain the idea of embarking in relationships with anyone who isn’t ‘the yin to his yang’. I imagine that’s working out as well for you as well as my obsession with fireworks is working for me.”
“You’d be surprised, Miss Douglas.” He swung his legs up onto the desk and lounged back casually in his seat. “Accept Mr Fiore’s offer of the cruise. Sail down the Thames and use the time to calculate the risks in your life. You brought fine silk underwear into the office of a man you thought viewed you as ‘ugly’- you clearly crave passion in your life. I think it’s clear where you can find
it.”
His words struck a chord that set the cogs of my mind whirring into motion. I did need passion and Cole would be only too happy to oblige, I knew that much. I didn’t have to compromise if it was on my terms.
“Psst!” I nearly fell over in shock at the sound as I paced back through the building to leave. “Cici!” Bethany waved a hand at me urgently to usher me over to her desk. “You’re still alive then?”
My eyes rolled at her lack of intelligence as I cross the distance to her and threw myself down in the available seat. “Of course I’m still alive. He’s a billionaire, not Hannibal Lecter.”
“What happened to Patrick Bateman?” I raised an eyebrow at her and laughed.
“Had a lot of sex, did a lot of drugs, killed a lot of whores. I don’t think Nathaniel Alexander has indulged in any of those vices. You should get to know your boss a little better, Bethy.” She scoffed at me and regarded me with intense scrutiny.
She then jerked her head towards her monitor and smirked. “He’s emailed me again to give me Thursday morning off. I don’t know what you’re doing, but carry on.”
“Maybe he’s fed up of you harassing his authors.” I stuck my tongue out at her playfully and reached down for my laptop bag. “He proffered an impartial male opinion and suggested that I should take Cole up on his offer of the cruise tomorrow and use the time to consider making some ‘calculated risks’.” I marked the latter two words with air quotes.
“Seriously?” Bethany’s eyebrows nearly shot up off her forehead in surprise. “Oh well, I must send him something to congratulate him on being the first person to talk some sense into you. Fava beans and chianti maybe?”
I wrinkled my nose and stood up, smoothing the creases in my skirt. “Don’t forget the liver. A young man like that needs his protein.”
I saw the evening in with a spring in my step and a cheeky shot of tequila with Shona behind the bar. Monday nights were never particularly eventful, which allowed for a liberal amount of mischief and banter between staff and patron alike. Old Joe once again proposed marriage and we light-heartedly discussed floral arrangements and seating plans. Behaviour descended to a battle of beer mats and soda gun dispenser wars.