by Ava Reilly
‘Get on to it, Ava,’ Dario told me. ‘You have what it takes, and you have the element of surprise on your side. It hasn’t hit the media yet; he’ll sit up and pay attention because you know something that isn’t a matter of public knowledge.’
I didn’t realise the extent of this man’s pull or even who he was but Dario explained briefly that he was well known within the entertainment industry: possibly the most prominent in the field. Deciding not to let the opportunity go to waste, I called his mobile and, with sweaty palms and a nervous shake in my voice, I left a message asking him to call me. I didn’t expect to hear back from him, so I went on with my day as usual, not thinking anything more about Hugh Montgomery.
That night at seven o’clock he called me back, cool, calm and collected with a velvety smooth voice that instantly made me melt. When he introduced himself I froze, wondering what the hell I was supposed to say. Dario had not prepared me for the fact that he sounded like a god! I attempted to maintain some level of decorum despite my nerves, determined not to blow my opportunity. I decided it was time to fake it till I made it, leading him to believe I knew more about what was going on than I really did, and in turn without even realising it he gave me all the information I needed. I really wanted this account, and I knew that I would be able to back up my promises. I was determined to prove myself, and I didn’t even realise that I had shifted into autopilot work mode and blocked everything else out. He told me he was flying into town the next day, and he asked to meet with me to discuss possible opportunities.
We arranged to meet the next night for dinner at his hotel. I was nervous, but more importantly I was excited. I was eighteen years old and about to meet with one of the most influential people in the country. Hugh had given me the time of day and I felt on top of the world. I knew I was on to something huge—I could feel it in the depths of my soul—but little did I know how significant this was going to become both professionally and personally. My life was about to turn upside down and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
•
The next day I was set to meet Hugh. Something in the morning air had me a little off balance, but I kept repeating my new mantra: fake it till you make it. Something deep down inside told me that I didn’t need to be worried, but I didn’t trust my instinct, so I invited my boss and her husband to attend.
When we arrived at the hotel to meet Hugh for dinner, the concierge told us the hotel did not have a guest under that name. Suddenly I was worried. I had received a phone call from this man and yet I hadn’t even googled him until ten minutes before I got out of the car at the hotel. His name is so well known across the industry that a Google search brings up well over a million results; he is the biggest powerbroker in the industry and yet he was meeting me. I was still in shock but I knew I had to be the consummate professional to get him to take me seriously—and here I was, suddenly panicking and thinking that I had made a huge mistake.
My boss and her husband excused themselves to use the bathrooms and as I stood in the lobby of one of the grandest hotels I had ever seen, I felt a shiver run down my spine and an electric pull forced me to look to my left: the glass doors had opened and I watched in awe as a middle-aged, broad-shouldered, tanned man dressed in Armani with a supreme air of confidence walked in, talking heatedly on his phone before ending the call abruptly. As I tried not to stare, he began to walk towards me. Something about the way he walked, talked and held himself drew me in. I can’t say it was necessarily his looks that attracted me, but there was an air of mystery about him, something that told me he was a lethal cocktail of danger and restraint that would be difficult for any woman to ignore. Clearly he was a lady’s man, his charisma oozing out across the room and hitting me at full force. It seemed that at any moment my jelly legs would give way and I would pass out, but I forced myself to focus. This man screamed class and everything else I felt I lacked in that moment. In an instant I knew it was him, even though I had never laid eyes on him before.
He walked straight over to me and as he held out his hand I saw a warm and genuine smile spread across his face and touch his eyes. There was something in his eyes that told me there was more to him than his name and reputation. I was intrigued, I was nervous, but predominately I was left breathless; his gaze penetrated the walls I had developed to protect myself over the years. He made me feel vulnerable. It was as if, at our first meeting, we recognised each other—and it scared the hell out of me. I had to look away. He breathed, ‘Good evening, Ava’ and at the exact time I said, ‘Hello, Hugh.’ For the first time I could remember, I found myself lost for words.
Suddenly my mind went blank; I didn’t even realise that I was shaking his hand, his firm grip holding my own. I couldn’t look away from his eyes, and the smile on his face disappeared as his head tilted to the side and he started to say, ‘I think I’ve met you—’ at the very moment my boss and her husband emerged and joined us. The static that shot up my arm as the touch of his hand left mine jolted me back to reality, and I finally found my voice to make introductions.
He asked us to wait for him in the bar while he checked in to the hotel, and as I turned away my mind was in a complete haze. Before I knew what was happening, my heart sped up as he grabbed my elbow and spun me around to look straight into my eyes. In a split second he stopped himself from whatever it was that he was going to do and walked away, leaving me standing there utterly confused. What the hell was going on? Why did I feel like I had seen him before? Like I knew him? It was the strangest feeling, like an electric shock had vibrated through me each time he touched me.
Twenty minutes later he joined us at a secluded table at the back of the hotel restaurant. He was refreshed, changed, and as he passed me a deliciously clean, sophisticated scent penetrated my nostrils. Behind Hugh was a mirror, and in its reflection I could see I was flushed—but I couldn’t explain why. I felt fine, just a little confused. I kept quiet during the meal while business was discussed, which is quite unlike me, but I felt like my brain had been fried. He was sitting opposite me and I tried my hardest not to look him in the eye because I have been told that my eyes always give me away, and I was afraid of what they would reveal—I couldn’t even figure out what was going on inside my head. The more I saw of him throughout the night the more I knew that he was trouble, and the only thing I could think was Where is the closest exit? He had serious charisma and I found it unbelievably alluring; there was just something that forced me to keep sneaking glances in his direction. Every time I looked at him I caught him watching me.
When I look back, I think that there were so many warning signs about what was surely to happen between Hugh and me. At that first dinner I was mesmerised but I also found myself despising him, and I don’t even know why. Perhaps my insecurity and nerves were winning out. I knew that there was no way he would be interested in me—I could only imagine the types of women who entertained him and I certainly didn’t think I fitted the bill—but I couldn’t deny the energy that flowed between us. My palms were sweaty as I sat there trying my hardest not to look at him, staying uncharacteristically quiet, afraid of sounding like a fool.
About an hour into the meeting I felt his foot touch mine. I was so on edge that any connection with him felt like lightning striking me. I pulled my foot away as another shot of electricity ran through my body; I couldn’t look at him and I found myself holding my breath. Moments later he apologised and asked whose foot he had kicked; I said it was fine and moments later found his foot began to tap mine. With each tap I felt like I was being tasered: mildly painful and yet I didn’t want him to stop. I snuck a glance in his direction just once, to try to understand what he was trying to achieve, but he wasn’t giving anything away.
At one point the conversation turned to music and he asked me who my favourite band was. I was able to mutter, ‘Matchbox Twenty’, to which my boss’s husband said, ‘Oh, who cares about them?’ with a laugh. Hugh immediately piped up, saying, ‘Well, obviously she does,�
� in an oddly protective tone. The table fell silent. I had never had someone stick up for me like that, especially not a stranger. It intrigued me that this man was sitting here defending me over something that seemed so insignificant but actually meant so much to me.
A little later Hugh asked where the bathrooms were and I offered to show him. We walked together in silence, and as we rounded the corner I almost jumped as his hand rested on the small of my back. When we reached the bathrooms Hugh asked if I wanted to join him. He stood looking at me, deadly serious, while my brain struggled to catch on that he was joking, and when I finally did he walked off laughing. Even though he wasn’t being serious I couldn’t help but think he was a womaniser. Little did I know that he was testing me to see if I was just like all the other women in this industry; there would be many more tests to come without my realising they were being put in front of me. I was just being me, and because of that I seemed to pass them all.
When Hugh returned to the table I couldn’t stop looking at him; I was so confused by my actions, I had completely lost control. I decided that it was best to keep my mouth shut and maintain as much distance as possible. I sat there, willing the minutes to pass so I could finally catch the breath that I had been unconsciously holding.
All night his phone had been ringing but he refused to answer it. When it started to vibrate on the table for the millionth time he apologised and took the call.
‘What?’ he snapped as his gaze bore straight through me. I felt the heat return to my cheeks, and looked away immediately before exhaling to ease the growing pain in my chest. I took a deep breath in, keeping my focus on the floor, blind to everything around me but the sound of his dark and dangerous voice. I felt cold sweat form on the back of my neck as I heard a woman on the other end of the phone; all the while Hugh’s piercing eyes burned into me.
He ended the call tersely, and when I finally regained composure I could see that he was tossing up something in his head. Eventually he lifted his gaze and kept his eyes focused on my boss, speaking directly to her and avoiding my eyes. He said, ‘I’m so sorry for what’s about to happen. I haven’t caught up with a friend in a while and she would like to join us. This could be painful.’ Even though he didn’t look at me when he spoke I could sense the words were directed at me.
We didn’t realise just how painful it would be until I noticed in the mirror a leggy blonde walk in from behind me. He muttered, ‘Oh God,’ almost inaudibly before getting up to greet her. The woman sat and began to make demands of the surrounding waiters: she wanted something to eat even though the restaurant was closing. I was intrigued by the company he kept, and although I knew I shouldn’t I enjoyed feeling the tension in the air between the two of them. All I could think at the time was that my instinct about him—that he was a player—was revealing itself to be true, which made my heart sink but also allowed me to keep a clear head.
Looking at him became easier because he wasn’t focused on me as intently, instead concentrating on the conversation he was engaged in with my boss and her husband. Sneaking glances as often as I could without raising suspicion, I was able to observe things about him that I had been blocked from earlier in the night, such as the fact that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and there was no white band around his finger. I feigned interest in my conversation with the blonde woman—whom I shall nickname ‘Pain’—until she caught me off guard by asking me how I had met Hugh. The conversation at the other end of the table stopped and I could feel Hugh’s eyes burning into me. I told the story of our phone call and my voicemail message before she told me how lucky I was that he responded because it always took him two weeks to respond to her text messages—and they hadn’t seen each other in eighteen months. I could tell that she was desperate for his attention, and I stifled a laugh inside that was begging me to let it out.
Clearing his throat, Hugh then spoke up and said that he had received around three hundred messages that day and when he listened to my mine he felt he had to call me back; something in my voice had made him want to. The whole table went quiet; I was stunned into silence. At the time I had no idea what this had meant but I could feel the frustration oozing from the woman next to me. I think it was then that she decided she didn’t like me. Breaking the silence, Hugh called a waiter over and ordered drinks. He strategically placed a dessert menu in front of us all, and as I reviewed it I silently begged my boss to say she didn’t want anything so we could leave and I could escape the frosty looks that Pain was sending my way. Without moving my eyes from the menu I commented to my boss that the strawberry sorbet with custard tart sounded delicious, to which Hugh agreed and smiled at me. I had to force my eyes to stop moving their way up to meet his; it was unnerving how it felt so natural and right.
Pain caught his smile and remarked snidely, ‘You like the tarts, don’t you, Hughie?’ Again the table fell silent. My eyes locked on to him in the moment before he turned to look at her with a disgusted look on his face and said ‘No!’ Before I had the chance to gasp, she replied, laughing, ‘Oh, that’s right, you like the sweet tarts.’
The conversation from there became extremely uncomfortable, and after dessert we decided to say goodnight. As we got up to leave my boss and her husband walked ahead of me. Pain sauntered straight to the bar without saying goodbye, throwing me one final smirk and wink before sitting down and ordering another drink. I was utterly embarrassed for Hugh but it set his obvious reputation solidly in my mind—he was a serious player. I followed closely behind my boss trying my hardest not to run to the car and lock the doors. Hugh caught up to me and grabbed my arm with such force he spun me towards him until I was an inch from his face. He looked me straight in the eyes and seemed ready to speak but was at a loss as to what to say. There was something in his eyes that showed me he was desperate for me to stay, and it made me want to run. I could feel it emanating from his core; I knew then that this was not the end of something but the beginning. I realised that he hadn’t called the meeting merely to discuss business, but whatever else he had in mind, I was determined that it would only ever be in his mind. I didn’t know this man but from what I had just witnessed I promised myself I would never be another notch in his belt. I returned his gaze and could not draw my eyes away, until the moment my boss turned to say goodnight and jolted me back to reality.
I broke the connection in an instant, thanked Hugh for his hospitality and walked away without a further word. I reached the car and turned to see him standing in the same spot with his mouth open; I don’t know what he had expected but he obviously realised he wasn’t going to get it. Moments after we drove off my phone began to beep, bombarded with text messages apologising for what had happened and asking if he could see me again. I was curious to know if my boss or her husband had noticed anything between Hugh and me during the night, but I didn’t dare bring it up in case I had completely misread the signs. I hesitated before responding because I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but something inside me was screaming yes so loudly it almost overpowered my logic. Little did I realise at the time that during the meeting Hugh had asked my boss if he could borrow me the following week to attend a national event with him, and she had agreed. No matter what excuses I might try to cook up, my boss had already said yes on my behalf, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t let him think otherwise.
I texted him back and told him I would think about the event and check my schedule. We ended up exchanging messages until 12.30 a.m. when I finally said goodnight.
What happened the next morning when I woke up was the beginning of something I could not escape. Fate has a way of catching you by surprise, and I certainly wasn’t looking for what it had in store for me.
#SecondConfession
#COAMMPlaylist:
‘Truly Madly Deeply’
Savage Garden
The morning after that first night, as I was heading out the door I grabbed my phone and saw I had a message from Hugh. I opened it cautiously and saw six words that
made my heart skip a beat.
I need to see you again.
I looked at the time stamp and was shocked to see that it had been sent at two that morning. A million things ran through my head at that moment but the most prominent was curiosity. What had happened to Pain? Had she stayed the night with Hugh?
As I stared at my phone, all I could think was that surely this was some kind of sick joke the universe was playing on me. I had not long broken up with a guy who had told me I was too career driven and he was intimidated by my industry, and previous experiences with the wrong type of men had left me insecure and a little scatterbrained. I really couldn’t read people—especially men—like I had been able to in the past.
During the trip to the office I tried to think of the best way to reply to Hugh’s message but every time I wrote something I ended up deleting it. I really wanted to keep our relationship professional, so I responded by saying that he would need to email me details of the event and I would see if I could make it. Within twenty minutes of hitting send I received a call. I forced myself to remain calm and casual as I answered and graciously declined his invitation to dinner that night. He repeatedly asked me the same question, and again and again I thanked him but said no. Finally he got the message that I wanted to keep things professional, and when I arrived at work thirty minutes later and opened my inbox I found his email waiting, almost taunting me. I looked at my schedule and agreed to go with him.
For the next week he messaged me every day without fail. I couldn’t get rid of him. Even though I wasn’t interested in him, I can’t say that it wasn’t flattering. I was, however, confused as I tried to figure out his real motive. I knew from experience that every man had one, and I was determined not to have anything to do with him in any other capacity unless I knew what it was he really wanted.