Darcey was quite certain she couldn’t show up looking like she did. A quick solution was in order.
But what?
She continued to stare at her reflection. “If I get this job, I can finally quit working from my job impasse and I won't have to be running around trying to meet the due date to pay my bills, or live pay check to pay check.” She gave herself a much needed pep talk.
Feeling more hopeful, Darcey decided it was time for some emergency shopping. She headed out into the busy street and found herself walking into a Zara shop several minutes later.
Inside the bright store, she admired a set of clothes on a mannequin--a lovely black dress with gold accents. One look at the price tag and an involuntary frown formed on her face. She sighed so loudly another customer looked her way in surprise.
I honestly don’t have the extra dough for a whole outfit and if I spend any more than 20 pounds this week I’m going to starve! Exaggerated, I know, but I just can't afford to buy new clothes.
Feeling defeated, she walked out of the store. Suddenly a bright idea came to her mind. She walked quickly, glancing left and right to check for incoming traffic, and crossed the street to the first cafe she saw. She went straight into the toilets and was glad to find a hand dryer.
She took out the top she had in her leather bag and placed it under the dryer. When the top was finally dry, Darcey checked to see if it was good enough to wear. Thankfully the material was chiffon, it easily dried off and there were no wrinkles to be found. She stripped off her t-shirt and put the chiffon top back on.
She pulled her hair up into a French twisted bun, pulling a little bit of extra hair, allowing soft strands to frame her face for some chic controlled mess.
Makeup was next. She dabbed on face powder, a dash of cream peach blush and some liquid eyeliner. It created a more professional look. Finally, she generously applied bold red lipstick on her pout and coated her already naturally thick eyelashes with a single coat of mascara.
Assessing her face in the mirror, Darcy was pleased with her appearance. She sprayed on Swiss facial mist on her face, making her tired and ashy skin look dewy. For an added touch of elegance, she dabbed perfume on her neck and earlobes.
“Hmmm,” she sniffed her wrist and smiled. She loved the smell of Carnal flower on her skin.
It was time to give herself more confidence boost.
“I need to nail this interview,” she told her reflection, a more polished looking Darcey than the one who walked into the café ten minutes earlier.
She walked out of the busy café. People were chanting their orders: mocha, caramel, cappuccino. There were various foreign accents. As she walked out into the sidewalk filled with pedestrians, most of them looking rushed like her, someone suddenly bumped straight into her, spilling coffee right on her newly dried blouse.
"Hey, watch it!”
"Whoops, I'm so sorry. I really am. Please, I really didn't mean to," apologized the man with the drink.
She looked up. The guy appeared very apologetic. He grabbed a hanky from his front pocket and attempted to dab her shirt with it, not realizing it was on a restricted female area.
"Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Quickly Darcey retreated, shocked when she realized the region that he was touching. It was pretty much the same area Nicky referred to earlier.
Her face heated up and she looked at his equally embarrassed face. He was giving her a petrified look. Right then and there Darcey noticed he had beautiful shapely brows, with captivating grey eyes—the grey hue had a ethereal blue undertone, like the ocean on a stunning day. What made his eyes appear even more attractive was their contrast against his dark brown hair.
He was still mumbling apologies. Her dark mood began to soften. There was a cool and friendly way about him. She felt like she couldn’t get that irked, despite the fact that in thirty minutes she was going for an interview that could potentially change her career and life, and there he was, potentially ruining it for her.
"It's OK, don't worry.” She offered him a small smile, assuring him that she was going to be fine.
As she turned around to go back into the cafe, he reached out for her hand and handed her his handkerchief.
"Here, please use this,” he insisted.
She didn’t have time to waste so she took it, giving him a quick word of gratitude and then she rushed to the lavatory once more to dry herself. Only this time she felt she didn’t have time to fully dry her top yet again.
When she finally came out of the toilet, Darcey searched for the guy to return his hanky but there was no sign of him. She walked as quickly as her Louboutin heels could carry her, swearing inwardly about her shirt and the cobblestones that made it troublesome for her to walk.
As she strode along the alley that led to the hotel, she noticed the tuktuks passing by, the drivers asking her if she wanted a lift. Black cabs lined the street, the traffic building up. The alley in Soho was full of adult-themed shops. Pictures of naked people, plus a couple of men, were snogging mindlessly as she passed the street. Some clubs weren't so discreet about the type of items they were selling while some suggested adult toys and other things poor Darcey was not familiar with.
She finally got to the hotel. It was fancy, very savvy and sophisticated, a stark contrast to the alley that she just passed. A neatly uniformed bellhop smiled as he opened the door for her.
She stepped inside, taking a deep breath and reminding herself to stay calm. She walked into a massive hallway of the swanky hotel and inhaled the lavishness of the place. She couldn't stop herself from admiring the furnishings. Luminous sparkles came from the crystal chandeliers dripping off the ceiling. The ceiling was a work of it in itself, painted with a deep blue sky and cherubs.
When she was a child, Darcey’s grandparents loved taking her for afternoon teas at these hotels. Being inside one brought melancholic feelings back. Guests were checking in and she couldn’t help but notice the Louis Vuitton and Goyard luggage. A smartly dressed Japanese couple talked rapidly in their own language.
She glanced over a sofa and saw a kindly looking gentleman wearing a smart black dinner jacket. Next to him was a young gorgeous blonde, young enough to be his granddaughter. The dress she wore had so little material, it left no room for the imagination. But who was she to judge, she scolded herself. Darcey made a mental note to stop daydreaming and people-watching. Impressing Luis’s contact during the interview was the goal.
She walked into the hotel bar. A man played on the piano, coincidentally singing her favourite song “Moon River”.
“Moon river, wider than a mile…I’m crossing you in style one day…,” he crooned.
The room was dim. It felt almost clandestine. Darcey walked in slowly, wondering if the publisher would choose this part of the hotel rather than the lobby. The bar looked like a place that offered a bit of privacy.
She glanced around the room. A couple in one corner was enjoying a private moment. In front of her were two men wearing business suits
Drinking by the bar was another man in a smart suit. He was busy with his laptop.
Ah, there he was, she thought to herself. She smiled nervously, staring at the man and his laptop.
If I can only remember his name…Why did my phone have to die on me. It’s impossible to call Luis and ask what this man looks like. What’s his name? It has completely slipped my mind!
As she walked towards the man with the computer, she felt there was something familiar about him. She had seen him before. He sensed her presence for he looked up immediately. Their eyes locked with equal shock on their faces.
Omigosh, my potential boss is the same guy from the café!
She gulped and forced a smile. She seemed to recover from the shock before he did. He stood up, looking unsure.
“Hi, I'm here for the interview,” she said cordially.
He offered his hand and said, “Nathan Cromwell. I’m terribly sorry about your shirt.”
She took his
hand hesitantly.
“Darcey Vaughn. And, what shirt?” She smiled at him brightly.
His face had a curious look and he said, “Real name?”
“Yes. That is my real name.” She was confused.
“Ah yes. Jenna doesn't suit you,” he murmured and placed his laptop in his brown leather bag.
Strange, she wondered. Why would he think her name would be Jenna?
"Before we begin, I just wanted to clarify, I’m actually not the one hiring you. My friend is. He’s at a meeting at the moment and I’m acting in his behalf for this interview. But we’ve been friends since tots and I know his type so Jack trusts my judgment.”
The announcement made Darcey even more confused.
He studied her for a moment and with a hint of disappointment in his tone, he began, "I hope you don’t take this personally, but you don’t look like you fit in this industry. It's not your appearance, you’re quite good loo-…“ he paused as if he was realizing anything he said could be considered sexual harassment.
“What I’m trying to say, evidently not eloquently, is that you just don’t appear to be somehow someone I would expect to be working in this type of industry.”
What in the world? she thought. How could this pompous man think that she didn’t belong in this industry?
Darcey tried to make out what the man was trying to say to her.
How dare he insult me without clearly studying my CV. I have an undergraduate in English Literature and Masters in Creative Writing!
She reminded herself to keep calm. Perhaps he was trying to test her reaction.
"That’s the sort of thing my mother would say. She thinks I'd be better off if I was a doctor or a teacher." She forced a laugh but he didn’t look amused.
A waiter came to get their order.
"I'll have scotch on the rocks, I think I am going to need it,” Nathan said. “And the lady?” he looked at her.
“I'll just have an apple juice please.”
"Very well." The waiter walked away.
Mr. Cromwell studied her from head to toe. She couldn’t help but notice his facial features intently. She had more time than she did at the café, after he spilled his coffee on her top. He had handsome features: chiselled jaw, straight-edge nose that was slightly crooked but not pointed, his thick but well-groomed brows were arched, making him look cheeky and yet they somehow maintained to give him an authoritative and composed look.
His gaze was intense. It sent shivers up her spine. It was an uncomfortable feeling being scrutinized. She felt like she never had an interview quite like it before. Most of the time she was bombarded with questions. What was her preferred media? What did she think of the war in the Middle East? What was her take on the American budget deficit?
Let me describe Miley Cyrus and Justin Beiber, anything that has something to do with current events or entertainment, she begged quietly.
"So, what do you do right now?" he asked with an unhinged look that made his grey eyes sparkle. His stare made Darcey lose her focus.
"I’m a personal assistant."
He raised an eyebrow. "You should keep your job instead."
She ignored his comments. "So, tell me more about the job, I’m looking forward to working with your friend, Jack," she replied brightly, pretending he hadn’t said anything that dampened her mood. She wanted to emphasize she would be working with his friend, not him. Whatever vendetta he had against her was not to be considered during the interview.
He seemed to have forgotten he spilled coffee on her just a little less than an hour ago. "Are you--," he hesitated a bit. She didn’t know what to think.
His eyes looked at her intently and continued,”--able to work night shifts and weekends?"
His tone confused her.
He went on, “Will you travel anywhere, even to Africa, Japan, Brazil and the US for days and weeks? Who knows what Jack needs? No family, husband, kids who will hinder you from performing your job smoothly?” He appeared genuinely interested in her reply.
Nathan added, “It's really none of my business, all these personal information."
He cleared his throat. It was obvious to Darcey he found the interview awkward. His composed demeanour had turned slightly off. The waiter came with their drinks. Nathan took a sip of his whisky slowly, letting it linger on his lips. Darcey couldn’t help but notice his mouth had a delicate yet manly curve at the corners.
"Jack needs you and all I’m doing is check to see if you’re the right lady for the job,” he said and shrugged, placing his drink down on the crystal clear glass table. "Why do you want this job, Miss Vaughn? Why would I want to hire you?”
His eyes darkened, turning into a deep shade of greyish blue. She was pleasantly surprised to notice there was an almost lavender tint to his eyes. To say his eyes were stunning would have been an understatement. They also held a sparkle that told her he wasn’t as cold as he sounded.
She felt a surge of confidence. "Mr. Cromwell, I already work longer than I have time to sleep. My job consists of running errands, picking up dry cleaning, making sure Carmen, my boss’ 5 year old has no nits. I took care of a tortoise, which I can’t tell from a turtle to save my life, and I almost killed it, placed it in a basin full of water thinking it needed to swim.” She took a deep breath, unsure if she was making sense.
She exhaled. “My boss thinks I'm an imbecile just because I told her kids cannot cuddle the panda bears no matter how much money we bribe the zookeepers and she can’t even spell “Czechoslovakia”, even if her marriage depended on it. I can speak two languages fluently, and I have a master's degree in Creative writing.”
Darcey felt like she was on a roll. His previous remarks about her being unfit for the job hit a nerve in her. She continued, “And although I didn’t graduate with honours, my essays were published in Hours Magazine while still in University. Well, to be honest, when I was in University I had purpose and a dream. I knew what I wanted to be but somewhere along the way I lost sight of what it was and forgot who I am.”
Tears she was trying to fight threatened to spill and she could tell that he could sense her swelling emotions. His face softened, taking on a sympathetic look.
"You see, Mr. Cromwell, I always wanted to be a writer but somewhere, somehow it was just easier to get and keep the job I have now. I didn't think I was good enough. Rejection after rejection. I sent my CV's everywhere but no one wanted me. And do you know how that feels when you go to interview after interview and then you’re told you’re just not what they need, or that your style of writing is just not what they’re looking for?” she almost whispered.
A tear escaped her eye. It mattered not how much she tried to control it. He reached out a hand and gently wiped the lone rebellious tear.
"I’m sorry, Miss Vaughn. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
Nathan wiped another tear that spilled on his hand and he looked at it with a hint of sadness in his captivating eyes.
She fished for a handkerchief in her pockets and dabbed her eyes with it. She forced a smile. “Your hanky helped me quite a lot today. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to show my emotions like this. It was uncalled for and unprofessional of me but it just kind of reminded me of my current state. I just…” She stopped mid-sentence, trying to form something intelligent to say.
Darcey tilted her head and looked directly at Nathan. She couldn’t help but admire his face, despite her embarrassment and bruised feelings. "What I’m trying to say is, I really want to be a writer. I don't care about the hours, if you send me to Galapagos ,or Kathmandu, to work. Plus, I don’t mind long hours and weekends. Please, I have always wanted this job. I’m tired of being a personal assistant." She was able to speak with a calmer tone this time. She wanted to be honest, hoping the truth would convince him. She didn’t bother hiding any hint of desperation in her voice.
He grimaced. His face looked like he was trying join a puzzle together and just couldn't find the missing piece.
"Miss
Vaughn”. He sucked in a deep breath. "Please, enlighten me as this is not making sense to me. Why did you apply for this job? Jack will pay you more than any publishing place, the private planes and expensive dinners, wardrobe and exclusive clubs may entice you, but why are forgetting your dreams and settling to work as an escort girl instead?”
His eyes burn deep into hers. Sincere ethereal eyes, trying to understand her. Nathan went on, oblivious as of that moment to the look of horror forming on Darcey’s face, “Why would someone smart and beautiful as you want to work escorting my friend to parties, business meetings and whatever Jack may require for you to do? The pay may be a lot but you’re selling yourself short." His face had a mask of honest curiosity.
She didn’t know what to feel. Horror? Frantic alarm?
Escort girl? Did I hear him right? Escort girl?!
Is that what Luis wanted to set her up with? She was quite certain her good friend mentioned a publishing job and Luis wasn’t one to lie to her.
Be Mine This Christmas: A Lovers in London Book Page 3