by Dee, L J
“Best buddy called, you’ve got the account” Katie squealed as soon as I hobbled into the office. The pitch had been great and they’d loved my ideas. My heart soared as I grinned broadly , hoping that I’d see Jason King at some point today, just so he could see exactly how good a mood I was in. She high fived me as I walked past her to my office. “I take it we’re celebrating tonight” she laughed brightly, as I nodded, hoping that a certain someone would be in the wine bar after work. I wrote up the pitch and sent the outcomes through to my boss, delighted that I had some good news after the debacle of the Castle account on Friday. A solitary pet food commercial may not quite make up for a big budget, multi-media campaign to launch a new range of vodkas, but it was a welcome start. I was looking through some upcoming presentation requests when the flowers arrived. A beautiful bouquet of two dozen white roses, perfect, natural and elegant, wrapped in a soft pink bow and when I read the card my stomach flipped.
‘Congratulations. King’
It said simply, and I couldn’t stop the strange grin that swept across my face. Well he knew then, I smiled to myself, unable to help the wave of satisfaction that spread through me. “Who are they from Lotty?” Katie asked as she popped into my office after her lunch break, quizzing me as I handed her the card, typing some notes on the computer in an effort to avoid an interrogation, and appear as nonchalant as possible while stifling my involuntary smile. She gasped, eyeing me suspiciously “Oh my God” she laughed “I would never have expected that”. “You and me both” I quipped, looking up at her.
They seemed to be leaving the bar together on Friday and I couldn’t stave off my curiosity any longer. I was eager to know and wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted her answer to be. “What happened when you left on Friday?” I asked as casually as I could manage. “Why? Have you got a little crush?” she grinned mischievously as I frowned at her shaking my head. “God no, I hate Jason King” I said more firmly than I intended as she raised her eyebrows. “Nothing happened. He left on his own when you walked away. I don’t even know why he put his arm around me to be honest. I got the feeling it was probably just to wind you up” she smiled. “Not that I was complaining, that man is an absolute God” she winked as I rolled my eyes.
The afternoon went quickly. As a result of this morning’s success I’d been handed an account which was as terrifying as it was thrilling. It was a late request for a summer collection from an up and coming fashion designer which would be utterly wonderful to win. It was the kind of account dreams were made of for a girl like me and my head was already spinning with ideas. Three meetings with the creative team and we had the seed of our campaign and six o’ clock rolled around much faster than I’d anticipated. “You ready?” Katie smiled, pulling on a cropped denim jacket over what appeared to be a brand new outfit and refreshing her lipstick as I did a quick check in my hand held mirror. “As ready as I’ll ever be” I grinned, trying to ignore the strange sensations in my stomach at the thought of seeing King. Whether I liked it or not, that irritating bastard was under my skin.
“Are you going to thank him for the flowers if he’s in?” Katie nudged my arm playfully as we walked through the striking main doors of Grayson International Media onto the bustling London street, dodging the red buses that were brimming with tourists, and headed across to the bar. “It’s the polite thing to do” I said simply, catching sight of him immediately on entry. The man was impossible to miss. He was jacketless and looked relaxed, leaning casually against the curved mahogany bar at the far end of the room, and I did my best to ignore his presence as I ordered my wine. “He’s over there” Katie whispered, giggling and winking at me as I rolled my eyes at her, again. Whatever she thought was going on here, she was quite wrong.
“Give me a minute” I said quickly, picking up my glass as she followed me with her bright amber eyes. He hadn’t noticed me yet and was deep in conversation with a stunning blonde who I recognised from a lingerie billboard campaign he’d won, and who looked me over with disdain as I interrupted. “I just wanted to say thank you for the flowers King, it was very thoughtful”. I smiled a half smile that didn’t meet my eyes, and turned to walk away as quickly as my still injured ankle would allow. “Not so fast” he grinned, grabbing my arm and halting me unexpectedly, just as the Chardonnay sloshed out of its glass and down the front of my white silk blouse, highlighting the delicate lace of my bra beneath. I tutted loudly, prompting a hugely irritating laugh from King, whose six foot frame towered above me in my flats. “My apologies” he said simply, gazing at the stain for a little too long and then at me, releasing my arm and trying unsuccessfully to stifle his grin. Something about this man really brought out the worst in me and the good mood I had enjoyed all afternoon evaporated immediately.
“Let me buy you another, Smith” he said firmly, a statement, not a question, before I turned and stomped off to join Katie. “What happened to you?” she laughed, from the corner of the booth. “King happened” I sighed, patting my blouse as he approached with a new glass of wine, putting it on the table in front of me. I neither thanked him nor acknowledged his presence and he left swiftly, tucking the beautiful blonde under his arm and striding out of the bar. It was fair to say that my mood did not improve for the rest of the evening.
“What is it with you two?” Katie smiled, trying to cheer me up. “You are always so off around him and you’re just not like that with anyone else Charlotte”. “He really gets under my skin, he is arrogant and patronising and...” “and fucking gorgeous” she cut me off, grinning broadly. “He always appears in control and seems to like infuriating you. Maybe you shouldn’t let it be quite so obvious that he’s getting to you Charlotte”. I nodded, smiling at her insight. “You’re right, I’m going to play him at his own game” I grinned. Anything would be better than my permanent state of annoyance, and the plan cheered me up no end. I called into the off license on the way home and bought a bottle of Castle vodka and a presentation box, it was time to put my little plan into action. I pulled on my scruffiest pair of tartan pyjamas, melting back into the comfort of my huge L-shaped couch and tried to think of something suitable to write on the card which would accompany my gift. Humorous? Cutting? Sincere? After an hour of flicking through the TV and unable to get my creative side as engaged as I’d like, I settled on ‘King of the Castle. Enjoy the account. Smith’.
I was happy with my play on words, it sounded generally vague and congratulatory and I was grinning as I dropped it at the dazzling and impressive reception of King Marketing on Tuesday morning, only to literally run into the man himself as I exited the building. “Whoa, slow down, where’s the fire?” he laughed as I hit his solid chest, looking up at him, slightly flustered and strangely nervous. “Sorry” I smiled moving backwards as he stepped forward to close the space between us. “No problem Smith, anytime” he smirked, holding my arm gently. “What are you doing here anyway, have you come to ask me for a job?” he laughed as I fought against rolling my eyes at him. Playing him at his own game could be more difficult than I’d thought.
I looked up at him fluttering my lashes as a puzzled frown flickered briefly across his face. “I realise I may have been a bit rude on Friday Mr King, I was hoping to make up for it, that’s why I stopped by”. He eyed me suspiciously, running his tongue gently and slowly across his lip. He was off balance and wasn’t sure how to react. “If you want to come up to my office I’d be happy to show you just how rude I can be” he grinned. Had he seriously just propositioned me in the foyer of his company? What an utter dick. He was trying to rattle me and rather than bite back with an irritated retort, which would have been my usual reaction, I smiled sweetly. “I’m afraid I have rather a busy morning, but thanks for the offer” I said simply and left, satisfied at the puzzled smirk on his face, knowing without looking, that he watched me walk all the way from King Marketing to the sumptuous offices of Grayson International Media next door.
It wasn’t long before I received the text from
a number I didn’t recognise and I laughed out loud.
What have you done with Smith? You are clearly an imposter. Anyway thanks for the drink, it’s about time you bought me one back ;)
I didn’t reply. The last thing I needed was Jason King taking up any more space in my head than he was currently occupying. The day was a whirlwind of research and creative brainstorming on the fashion account I was so desperate to land. Working on this would be a mixture of two things I adored, advertising and clothes. It would be a chance to meet the fashion designers who brought their visions to life on the London catwalks, and enter a glamorous, exciting world, even if it was only temporary. I felt sure King would be pitching for this and I was much more qualified to do it justice. Although from the string of models the man had on his arm, he might have an ‘in’ with the client, which I didn’t, and I would have to keep my eye on his whereabouts to check what he was up to. It was well known he’d do pretty much anything to land a big account and dating models associated with a particular designer to get an introduction to the man himself hardly seemed like a giant sacrifice. I put a Google alert on my phone and computer for any updates relating to him, and it seemed he was already one step ahead of me.
‘Jason King to speak at gala dinner for London Models Inc’ popped up immediately. God, he was good. I needed to get myself onto the guest list of that particular event. He liked to keep an eye on the competition and from now on I would do exactly the same, I laughed inwardly, alerting Katie to my plans over coffee.
“It’s tonight and I can’t find a way to get you in” Katie frowned mid afternoon when she’d exhausted the last of her contacts. “Don’t worry, I might have an idea. It’s not exactly foolproof, but it might be worth a shot” I laughed unconvincingly, flinching at my half baked plan that probably wouldn’t work, but I was all out of options. I booked a last minute appointment in the hair salon for a sophisticated up do, and pulled on my best black satin evening gown to showcase my curves. Teamed with a pair of the highest heels I could manage with my ankle, I’d scrubbed up well, grinning at my reflection in the mirror whilst simultaneously wondering what the hell I was doing. If this didn’t work, I would end up with a huge amount of egg on my face. It could wind up being one of those stories that would sweep through the advertising houses of London like an exocet missile, leaving me red faced for weeks. The plan relied on King not having a date, and also on him possessing an ounce of chivalry. I wasn’t convinced that was the case on either score. I shivered against the cold night air, pulling my cashmere wrap tightly around my shoulders, and receiving some very strange looks as I loitered in the shadows waiting for him to arrive.
Limousine after limousine pulled up at the beautiful Ritz hotel, depositing so many gorgeous people that it actually hurt my eyes. A constant stream of models entered the building as my stomach fluttered. Surely this was above and beyond the call of duty, but then this was one hell of an account to win. Not for the first time today, I was having second thoughts, deciding to walk away just as Jason King stepped out of a black limousine, looking every bit as glorious as the models that preceded him, in a beautifully tailored tuxedo. I took a deep breath as I stepped alongside him. “King” I smiled, feigning surprise, his initial shock soon turning to a suspicious half smile as he looked me over, quirking an eyebrow. “You look stunning Smith. What are you doing here?” The unexpected compliment sent my stomach spinning. Nerves, I thought, composing myself quickly and smiling. “I’m here for the London Models dinner” I said, taking the arm he offered as we walked the red carpet together.
He maintained a cool demeanour for the photographers, whispering gruffly as soon as we were out of earshot. “You’re up to something Smith”. “I don’t know what you mean” I smiled my brightest smile, maintaining a confident looking position at his side. I was anything but, and as the doorman pulled out his guest list, I knew this was where I’d get busted. “Good evening Mr King and may I take your name please” he smiled politely at me, as I did my best to disguise my nerves. “It’s Charlotte Smith” I smiled, glancing up at King who was eyeing me intently, a small smile playing on his mouth. He checked the list. Twice. “I’m afraid you don’t appear to be on the guest list Miss Smith” he frowned looking slightly embarrassed as Kings lip curved knowingly. Definitely busted.
“Miss Smith is my date for the evening, you should have been informed” said King in a cool, deep voice that made my stomach flip again. Damned nerves. “I apologise Mr King, we’ll get the situation rectified immediately” he gushed, eager to please tonight’s enigmatic key note speaker and gesturing us inside. I tried hard to stifle my giggles, gasping audibly as King pulled me suddenly against his hard chest and gripped me tightly. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re up to Lady, but I intend to keep a very close eye on you tonight” he said firmly against my ear as my insides exploded in a flurry of giddiness. I was in. “I’m not up to anything King, the guest list was clearly an oversight, it happens. Now go and get your date a drink” I laughed, his twinkling blue eyes burning into mine as I bit my lip in a show of implied innocence. “Be careful Smith” he growled and his smile faded. For the first time ever it seemed I had manage to rattle Jason King, and I couldn’t stop the grin that broke out across my face as he walked towards the bustling champagne bar that ran almost the full length of the wall.
Annoyingly, he didn’t return with a drink as I expected, and seemed to be far too engrossed in chatting up the bevy of models that approached him, to bother with me. There were hundreds of them milling around, incredibly beautiful and incredibly tall, and I felt like I’d landed on a different planet, where flaws just did not exist. Everything about them was utterly perfect and Jason looked right at home. I immediately recognised Tamsin Lloyd, supermodel and well documented uber bitch hanging on his every word and picking imaginary lint from his shirt with one hand, while flicking her hair furiously with the other. He might be there a while I thought, eventually making my way across to the bar to get my own drink, feeling slightly deflated as I cast him an angry glare. He smiled at the reaction, as Tamsin sneered, and I realised quickly that for my plan to work, I had to stifle my irritation. He seemed to enjoy having me on the back foot, angry and frustrated. If I kept my cool, I would be fine and I might just get away with my devious little scheme.
“Hi there, I don’t think we’ve met” said a beautiful, tall stranger with rich mahogany hair and the deepest chocolate eyes I had ever seen, and I gasped inwardly, automatically straightening my posture and smiling broadly. “Charlotte Smith” I extended my hand as he took it in his, shaking it firmly. “Robbie Hurst, lovely to meet you. Are you with London Models?” he asked as I laughed out loud. “Hardly” I grinned. With my highlighted blond waves and hazel eyes, I could be considered quite pretty, but a model....definitely not. Even in these heels, I seemed to be permanently craning my neck tonight. He looked down at me, laughing through his puzzlement “Why did you say that?” he grinned. “I’m no model Robbie, I’m actually in advertising”. He looked relieved and interested. “Thank God for that” he laughed, “I wasn’t sure I could take another second of talking shop. Who do you work for?” “Grayson International” I said quickly and we chatted happily and naturally. It turned out Robbie was doing modelling while finishing his degree in architecture. Apparently it was easier and significantly more profitable than working in McDonalds.
He was really cute and I was flirting relentlessly, ignoring the steely glare I felt from across the bar, moments before Jason King appeared at my side, clearly unimpressed. “Excuse us” he said to Robbie, nodding curtly before pulling me to a quiet corner of the room by my elbow. It was exactly the kind of presumptuous behaviour that usually irritated me so much, and tonight was no different. The only difference was, that I wasn’t about to start showing it.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled as I smiled at him, perfectly puzzled. “What do you mean?” I quizzed, shocked by the fury etched on his face that he was doi
ng little to conceal. “That’s not how I expect my dates to behave Smith” he said firmly, as I laughed out loud, shaking my head, I couldn’t believe he was actually serious. “Stop flirting with the fucking models” he said eventually, his voice deep and low and snapping me immediately from my laughter as I stared incredulously. “You stop flirting with the fucking models” I spat back, unable to control myself as we spent a good few seconds staring each other out.
The unexpected stand off was broken only by the announcement that it was time to move through to the main room for dinner. They had obviously been busy rearranging the seating plans as my name had miraculously appeared on a table towards the front of the room, right next to Jason King and none other than Tristan Wright, the up and coming designer whose marketing we were both obviously desperate to secure. So that was his plan, the sly bastard, I looked up at him grinning. His mouth was set in a firm line, still clearly irritated by our earlier exchange, and he didn’t even look at me as he put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me firmly through the throng of people to the table, pulling my chair out in a chivalrous gesture for me to sit. Maybe I had been wrong about the gentlemanly qualities of Jason King, I mused inwardly, taking in his delicious profile and realising he was still seething. Maybe not.
The table was buzzing with chatter as we introduced ourselves and I wasn’t wasting the opportunity, much to the annoyance of the man on my right. “I absolutely adore your work, Mr Wright” I smiled openly, the fall collection was incredible and I truly admired the influence of the pre war era. The collection was a perfect mix of sophistication and fun and I love the way your clothes are designed to be worn by all women. I own the ‘Michaela’” I smiled, which was a little white lie, there was no way I could blow a month’s wage on one dress, although in the case of the ‘Michaela’ I almost had. It was only a brutal last minute intervention from Katie who all but wrestled me to the floor of the designer boutique that had brought me to my senses.