Confused by Love

by TL Messruther

  Confused by Love

  Book #1 – Love, Lies and Hurt trilogy

  TL Messuther

  The places, characters and situations in this book are from the author’s imagination only. and are fictional.

  Use of this book without the author’s permission is strictly prohibited.

  Cover design by Indie Pixel Studio

  Picture provided by Shutterstock

  Edited and formatted by AC Marchman

  Dedication.

  To my two beautiful children - my world.

  I hope I make you proud.

  Love you both so much.

  Chapter 1

  My alarm starts going off. It is 8:00, time to get up. I open my eyes and look out my window. It's a beautiful day outside. The skies are blue and clear and the way the leaves are blowing tells me it’s only a light breeze. I roll over and switch my alarm off. Sitting up in bed, my stomach is twisted in knots. Today is Monday, April 2nd, and it’s the day I have an interview with Mr. Mills, the owner of D-Ms fashion. My interview isn’t till mid-day so I have plenty of time to check I have everything I need – again.

  I slowly climb out of bed, careful not to move too fast. I’m a bundle of nerves, and I don’t want my stomach to reject my dinner from last night. I walk down the hallway to the bathroom and open the door. The blue walls have the morning light bouncing off them, making the room look brighter. I strip out of my comfy, warm, pink flannel PJ’s and step into the shower. I usually like my nice, long soaks in the bath, but today, I don’t have time. I quickly wash and climb out. Grabbing a towel off the shelf, I wrap myself up. I don’t want to frighten Claire walking around nude.

  Claire is my house mate. She is normally up before me, but today I can’t hear her roaming around downstairs. I walk back into my room and head to my closet. I don’t know what to wear today, so I spend the next twenty minutes rummaging through all of my clothes. I finally decide on a black, silk halter neck dress, with a white jacket, that has sleeves up to my elbows, and black knee high heeled boots. Once I am dressed, I stand in front of the mirror. I check myself over to make sure I am presentable. Of course, my clothes are smart, but my long brown hair is a mess and my natural ringlets have all tangled together. Not to mention, I don’t have any makeup on. My brown eyes still stand out and sparkle. I decide I am going to straighten my hair, after seeing the mess of it in my reflection. Being a fashion designer and an ex-catwalk model, I very rarely have my hair looking like such a disaster and I don’t plan on doing that today. I plug my black Remington hair straighteners in and decide to make sure everything is ready for my interview. You can never be too organized for an interview.

  Interview paperwork, with time, date and all the other information I need on – check.

  Resume– check.

  References – check.

  Identification – check.

  and finally, five fashion designs – check.

  All seem to be here, so I start to straighten my hair. I sit at my vanity, combing and straightening my bed head. Five minutes later, I am happy with the results, so I turn the straighteners off and sit in front of the mirror again. With my makeup bag in my hand, I stare at my reflection as I put my black mascara and eyeliner on. I am trying to go for the natural look today, so the false eyelashes stay in my bag. I only ever really wear them if I am on the catwalk anyway. I never wear any kind of concealer. I have a natural light tan to my skin, so it’s not necessary. I apply a light layer of white eye shadow, then a natural colour lip gloss. I take one last glance in the mirror and decide that I’m satisfied. I grab my paperwork off the bed where I left it and make my way downstairs. It is quiet, leading me to believe that Claire is still in bed, so I jump out of my skin when I walk in the kitchen and she turns to look at me.

  “Good morning Izzy. I thought I heard you moving about up there. I've made you something to eat.”

  Claire greets me and hands a hot mug of coffee to me. Claire is an amazing friend. Her shoulder length hair is straight and red, and she has big, bright green eyes. She has a beautiful slim, but curvy figure and is very tall. She is a beautiful woman and I’m proud to have her as a best friend.

  “Erm, good morning Claire, and thank you. You gave me a heart attack. I thought you were still in bed.”

  “I am never in bed at this hour. Sit down you need breakfast, - big day today” she says, reminding me like I hadn’t remembered myself.

  I give Claire a quick hug and she takes my paperwork from me. She pulls out a seat at our dining table and directs me to sit down. I do as I’m told and I start eating the egg sandwich Claire has made me. She takes a seat at the table and starts going through my paperwork. I don’t mind, since I know she is checking to make sure I haven’t missed anything. She knows I have a terrible memory any normal day, but when I'm nervous, I would forget my head if it wasn’t attached to my body.

  Claire then starts to question me. “Izzy, have you got everything you need?”

  “Yes, I think so,” I reply.

  “Are you sure? I know what you’re like at forgetting things!” she says, making me laugh.

  “Yes, I have checked it about ten times,” I answer.

  “Are these the designs you’re going for?” she says, holding the five designs I have chosen for my interview.

  “No, I figured the boss could hang those on his fridge,” I say, grinning at her.

  Claire sticks her tongue out playfully, then we both laugh. “Well, good luck, Izzy. Call me as soon as you’re finished, and let me know how it goes,” Claire says as she gets up from the table. She walks to the sofa, retrieves her black jacket and heads to the front door. “I mean it. Ring me as soon as you leave! Love you,” she says before walking out the door and quietly closing it behind her.

  I walk to the window and watch as Claire leaves the house, and climbs in her dark blue Jeep and drives to work. Standing there, watching her get in her car reminds me of bad times. I am missing my car, my little baby, a red mini. I was in a car accident fourteen months ago. A drunk driver who was swerving all over the road crashed into me, and my car was a write off. He was going at such speed when he hit me, he ran me of the road. I rolled down an embankment and my car flipped upside down. It caught on fire and the rescue crew had to cut me out before I burned to death. At the time, I thought I was going to die, upside down in my car. The doctor from the emergency room put me in intensive care for two weeks, or so I was told. I was in a coma for eleven days before I woke up. I ended up with a shattered pelvis, two broken legs, internal bleeding and a chipped disk in my back which needed operating on. When I was well enough to leave intensive care, they left me on HDU for three days before I returned to a normal ward. I also needed physical therapy. After two months of PT, I still wasn’t making progress, so I decided it was best to quit my job.

  Because I wasn’t progressing as fast as I wanted to, I convinced myself I was never going to get better. However, I do now regret leaving my job as a catwalk model. Six months after the accident I started making progress. Now it’s been fourteen months, and there is no trace of the accident – apart from an absent car. I am back to full health and ready to work again.

  I suddenly remember my interview and realize I only have fifty minutes to get there. I pull my smart phone out of my bag and call for a taxi. The operator said it is going to be twenty minutes. That leaves me thirty minutes to make a twenty minute journey. I start pacing the room, hoping to calm my nerves. I try sitting down, drinking water, nothing works.

  Twenty minutes later, my taxi has arrived. Thank God it’s early! It parks out the front and beeps his horn to alert me of his arrival. I grab my folder off the table and walk out the house, locking the door behind me. I make my way down the footpath to th
e road, praying I don’t trip in these boots. I climb in the back of the taxi and tell the driver the destination.

  As I sit in the back seat of the taxi, my nervousness is running through my whole body like wildfire. We drive there is silence, and of course, the taxi driver has no background music, so I have nothing to take my mind off my nerves.

  The taxi pulls up in front of the office of Mr. Mills. I climb out the taxi and just stand there, frozen on the spot. I look at the small office blocks in front of me, taking in the red brickwork and silver detail on the building. I then turn round to look at the world. While my time stands still, everyone else is going about their daily business, like there wasn’t a care in the world. I glance at my watch, I have only ten minutes before my meeting begins. I don’t want to make a bad first impression, so I slowly make my way inside the office.

  The office walls are stark white, with black décor. There are four black sofas lining the front and back walls. And just as you walk in, there is a black marble reception desk. Behind it are two members of the staff. One of them is a tall slim woman with shoulder length mousy colour hair and the other with short red hair. I walk over to the desk trying to show as much confidence as I can muster. I think I succeed. The tall woman come to the front of the desk and said in a cool, calm, and collected voice, “Good Morning. Welcome to D-Ms fashion. My name is Nevaeh, how may I help you today?”

  “Good Morning, I have a meeting with Mr. Mills at noon. My name is Isabella Jacobs.” I reply politely back.

  “Of course, Miss Jacobs, please take a seat, Mr. Mills will be with you as soon as possible,” Nevaeh says as she looks towards the second lady behind the desk, who gets up to knock on a closed door.

  I’m guessing that was Mr. Mills’ office. When she comes out of the door, she walks over to me, her heels clicking on the tiled flooring. She smile and says, “Please go through, Miss Jacobs. Mr. Mills is ready for you now.”

  “Okay, thank you.” I slowly get to my feet, trying to not show my nerves, but I am shaking so hard, I am surprised I can stand without my legs giving way. I walk the short distance to the office and knock timidly on the door. Then I hear a man shout “Come in!” in a strong voice. His voice sounds husky, confident and bloody sexy. It tells me he must have a few beautiful features.

  I open the door and walk in trying to look confident with my folder in my hand. As I walk in, I glance up to see three people sat at a dark wood table that has eight seats around it. The three interviewers sit on one side, along the long side of the table to my left. The man, whom I assume is the boss, stands and holds his hand out to me. I take it, making sure I give a firm handshake.

  He introduces himself as Mr. Donte Mills. I cannot believe my eyes! This man who is standing in front of me, is the perfect definition of beautiful. He has brown hair that’s a bit on the long side, bright blue eyes that match the sky on a summer day. They are brighter than the Mediterranean Sea. His lips have a slight smile and he has a picture perfect jawline. He is simply irresistible. I stand and gape at him. My eyes dart straight to his mouth. Damn, I wonder idly if they are as soft as they look. He is wearing a tight white t-shirt that show his abs and I can see his muscles ripple beneath it. I would love to see that chest naked and run my fingers over his fine abs. “Damn, Izzy. Get your act together.” What ridiculous thoughts. I blush and look into his captivating eyes.

  He looks at me, and it feels like I am standing in front of him, naked. He slowly gives me a sly, one sided smile that makes me melt right there in the meeting room. “How does he do that?” I think to myself. I finally find my words as he drops my hand.

  “Mr. Mills, I’m Isabella Jacobs. Very pleased to meet you. Thank you for interviewing me,” I introduce myself, trying my hardest not to let my voice deceive me. I hope no one else can hear my rapidly beating heart rate.

  He introduces the two ladies who are sitting with him. One of them I recognise from the reception desk, who had entered just before I did, and then the other is Amanda. She’s a stunning, tall lady with a slim build, dark blue eyes and long blonde curly hair. When I got confirmation of my meeting, I did some research of the people I would be working for. I remember Amanda from the information I came across and I realise she was the woman Mr. Mills is marrying. She’s also the reason this job has become available.

  Before I manage to sit down, Amanda grabs a sheet of paper that looks like it has all my details on and sticks it in a pile. Mr. Mills looks at her, narrows his eyes, then proceeds to grab it and stick it in a different pile.

  With that, Amanda stands and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Mr. Mills turns to Nevaeh and says, “Just hold the fort down for a minute while I get Amanda back.”

  “Of course, Mr. Mills,” replies Nevaeh.

  I quietly sit down in the chair that Mr. Mills directed me to, before he left the room. Nevaeh smiles at me, but my nerves were making me feel sick. I give her a small smile and look away, staring down at my knees.

  I start chewing at my gum. Claire is always telling me off for chewing my gums. I chew, and chew at them until they bleed. It’s a nervous habit I have, and have had for as long as I can remember. I sit there for a few moments, just chewing my gum, while I tell myself over and over that I have not got the job. I mean, who could screw up a job interview before it actually began? Well, except for me. My heart feels like it is about to shatter into a thousand pieces. I really want this job. I think I'm going to cry. My confidence has plummeted and I don’t know what else to do, except wait for the ball to drop.

  I am dragged away from my thoughts a few moments later when Mr. Mills walks back in the room, followed by Amanda. She gives me a look of disgust, for what I don’t know, and my heart sinks again.

  They both sit back in their seats and Mr. Mills says, “I apologize for the inconvenient start to the interview. Shall we get under way?”

  He doesn’t give me time to reply, before he starts firing questions at me.

  “So, Isabella, how do you think you can help D-Ms fashion?”

  “Mr. Mills, you can call me Izzy. What I plan on bringing to the company, is a big selection of breathtaking designs, that will be hopefully bring in a wider fan base and bigger brands”.

  “If your designs are that good, may I ask why you’re currently unemployed? I mean, why hasn’t another company snatched you up?”

  “Well, I was in a car accident fourteen months ago, and I quit when I thought I wasn’t going to get better again.”

  His beautiful eyes cloud as I say that, but he nods as to say “Yeah, I’m listening, and I totally get why you quit.”

  “So, you’re well enough to be working again now, are you?” he asks with concern etched across his face.

  “Yes. I have been given the all clear from the doctor, I’m ready to get back out there.” He seems happy with my answer.

  He carries on firing questions at me. Before I know it, the interview comes to an end. Mr. Mills stands to his feet, and Amanda and Nevaeh follow. I first shake Mr. Mills hand, he looks down at me and smiles again. He gives my hand a slight squeeze then releases me. I then shake Amanda’s hand, but she doesn’t bother to look at me. Lastly I shake Nevaeh's hand, she smiles at me and says, “You will hear from us within a week”.

  “Thank you,” I reply and she starts walking towards the door. I follow her out, not bothering to look back.

  Once I am out the door, I walk to the nearest café and order a ham sandwich while my mind runs through the interview. I don’t know what Amanda’s problem is with me, but she took an instant dislike to me. I am glad to be out of there. The atmosphere was very unpleasant and unwelcoming. It’s not the most ideal environment to work in, but I want nothing more than to land this job. I sigh as I pick up my phone and call Claire, like I promised and explain how it went.

  Chapter 2

  Pixie Lott’s 'Turn it up' starts playing and I realize it’s my alarm. I turn it up and jump out of bed. I dance away to Pixie while I shower, then Kelly
Clarkson’s 'I do not hook up' starts playing. I secretly hope Claire isn’t sleeping because she would most definitely be awake now. She won’t mind though. She knows I’m a sucker for music, especially when it comes to Kelly Clarkson. I own all her albums and even have all her songs in a play list on my smart phone. I finish in the shower and make my way downstairs.

  It’s been almost a week since that awkward interview and I am convinced I didn’t get the job. I sit at the table and open the laptop to see if there is any more jobs available in fashion. It is 9:30 am, and I stumble across an ad for a catwalk model. “I think I’m ready to get back on the catwalk,” I think to myself, as I fill in the application form and press submit. A note saying 'Thank you for your application to D-Ms fashion.” popped up on screen.

  The first thought that goes through my head is “Oh shit, like I hadn’t humiliated myself enough, I go and do it again.” I'm suddenly dragged out of my thoughts when my phone starts ringing. It's not a number I recognise. A strong male voice started talking, a voice I have heard before. A voice that liquidises my insides. “Isabelle, this is Donte Mills.”