by T L Swan
His face falls.
“Tomorrow night?” I ask.
“Ah, my parents are in town and I’m seeing them tomorrow night,” he murmurs.
“Oh,” I reply.
“Everyone in the office is going out for drinks on Friday night after work. Maybe we could catch up after that?” he asks.
“Yes.” I smile relieved. Everyone from work will be there so it will be less awkward.
“Can we grab a drink after?”
“That sounds great.”
He smiles and I see the flicker of excitement fill his eyes.
“Umm, Mark…” I hesitate. I need to tell him I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to success stories in print.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone what’s going on between us.”
I frown. Okay, that was unexpected.
“And I would appreciate if you didn’t mention anything about us to any coworkers. I may get fired if they know I recommended you for the job and I had a personal interest.”
I raise a brow. “Do you have a personal interest, Mark?” He smiles sexily. “It’s very personal, Emerson, but you already know that, don’t you?”
I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Yes, I do.” I smile.
“Now go out there and get to work. I would hate to bring you in here for disciplinary reasons.”
I bite my lip to stifle my smile. “Yes, sir,” I reply.
He sits back in his chair and his eyes hold mine as one of his brows lift. “I like the sound of you saying that.”
Oh shit. Sir, he likes the sound of me saying sir. Christian Grey you are not and I am so not going there. I’m a self-professed wimp. I stand and walk to the door, contemplating saying seeing you Friday, sir to play along and be cute, but decide against it. I’m not feeding the tiger with stupid games when I don’t even know what game I want to play.
* * *
At 3pm I am in desperate need of a caffeine and sugar fix. I start to get antsy. I look over at Travis who is leaning back on his chair.
“Is it okay if I go and get a coffee?” I ask.
“Yeah, of course.”
I look over in the direction of the kitchen. The thought of walking over there alone is unappealing. I look back at Travis in question.
He looks at me. “Do you want me to come with you?”
I smile. “Would you mind?”
He smirks and stands. “Come on then, wimp.”
We make our way to the kitchen.
“Hey, so you are the new girl?” a guy sitting over near the corridor asks as he leans back on his chair.
“Hi, yes, I’m Emerson.” I smile nervously.
“This is Charles,” replies Travis. “Charles is the master hider of the office. He is never at his desk and always has somewhere very important to be. Don’t ever ask him to do anything for you because it will never be done.”
I smile broadly and he winks cheekily. I like Charles. We keep walking. I glance into Mark’s office and stop dead in my tracks.
Holy crap.
It’s him.
Mr. Twinkle is standing in Mark’s office. My God, what is he doing here? Shit, I scurry to the kitchen. I don’t want him to see me. I look horrid.
Fuck, he did know Mark’s name… they do know each other.
Travis starts to take out the coffee and milk but my mind is in overdrive. I need to find out who Star really is. Maybe Travis will know something.
“Who is in Mark’s office?”
“Who?”
“That’s what I’m asking you. There is a man in Mark’s office. Who is he?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him.”
“Go and look.”
He frowns.
“Please?” I smile sweetly.
He frowns, hands over the coffee, and walks back down the hall. I peer around the corner like a mouse, my heart in my throat.
Travis goes to the other end of the office and pretends to pick up a piece of paper before he waltzes back.
He smirks. “His name is Star.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s a celebrity photographer.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “He’s a big shot photographer, shoots for magazine covers and stuff.”
I peer around the corner as I try to spy, forgetting where I am.
“Why?” Travis asks.
“Huh?” I turn around guiltily. “What? Ha.” I fake a smile. “No reason. Just curious.”
I widen my eyes as I try to say something that makes sense.
“What? I mean. Where?” Shit how do I find out about him without being obvious.
Travis rolls his eyes. “He has that affect on a lot of females, so I hear.”
My mouth drops open. “Oh.” Depressingly enough, that doesn’t surprise me.
Travis hands the coffee to me. “Come on.” He turns and walks out of the kitchen. Oh no. I don’t want Mr. Twinkle to see me when I look like shit on a stick. I look around nervously. Plants! I hot foot it over and stealth slide along the wall behind the row of high plants. My eyes flicker to Mark’s office and I can still see him in there.
What are they talking about?
Holy crap, what if he tells Mark we kissed…
No, he wouldn’t… surely. Why would he?
My eyes widen. Shit. I hope Mark doesn’t tell him I’m his girlfriend, fucking hell. Why did I even say that?
Oh, this is a disaster. Why do they have to know each other?
I eventually make it back to my seat and fall into it breathlessly, craning my neck to try and see what’s going on.
I’m perspiring here.
Deirdre’s phone rings. “Hello,” she answers and then listens. “Yeah, sure.”
She hangs up and then goes through her filing cabinet to retrieve a file. I am still spying over my divider through the excellently positioned plants.
Her phone rings again as she opens the file in her hand. “Hello, hold the line, please.” She puts the phone down. “Emerson?”
I look around. “Ah, yes.”
She passes me the file in her hand. “Can you take this to Mark White’s office, please?”
“Huh?” My eyes widen.
“Just knock on the door.” She points to his glass office. “He needs the file.”
“What… now?” I ask in horror.
She nods and goes back to her phone call.
My heartbeat starts to boom in my ears as I stand and slowly walk toward the office. Why did I wear this today? Why is he in Mark’s office? Why did I say I was Mark’s girlfriend?
I knock.
“Come in,” Mark calls.
Oh God. Dread fills me as I open the door. “Hi…. this is the file you requested?” I hold it out nervously.
Mr. Twinkle’s face drops when he sees me, and my mouth goes dry.
“Star, have you met Emerson? She is our new customer relations officer. Emerson, this is Star.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face and he stands to hold out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Emerson.”
We shake hands and I am jolted by a shock of electricity. Oh no, there it is again.
I force a nervous smile. “Hello.” I glance up at his gorgeous face and his eyes hold mine.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
“Australia.”
“How long are you here for?”
Oh, that voice is dreamy, I swallow nervously. “Twelve months, for now.”
“I see.” His velvety voice surrounds me.
“Star is an artist and we are selling some of his early work at our next auction,” Mark tells me.
“Oh.” My eyes glance between the two men. Get out, Mark. I want to continue that kiss Mr. Star started the other night.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Emerson?” Mr. Star asks with a raised brow.
I nod nervously. God, this man makes me turn into a giddy school girl. “I am,” I breathe.
He smirks, knowing e
xactly what he is doing. “What has been the highlight of your stay so far?”
My eyebrows rise. “Saturday night ended pretty well,” I whisper.
A trace of a smirk crosses his face as his dark eyes hold mine. I start to feel the electricity fill the room.
The moment is broken by Mark. “What did you do Saturday night? I thought you went to Brielle’s.”
My eyes widen and look back to Mark. “Oh, yes.” I feel my face redden. How did I just forget that Mark is in the room? “I mean the movie we watched really floated my boat.”
Mark frowns. “Whatever takes your fancy, I suppose.”
Did I really just say that out loud?
Mr. Star smiles at the floor.
“I have to go. N-nice to meet you,” I stammer and I close the door behind me. I cover my face with my hands. Oh dear God, I will never live this down. The movie we watched really floated my boat...
Where in the hell do I get this shit? And why do I say it out loud?
I walk back to my desk in disgust at myself and I fall into my seat, coming to the conclusion that I am socially handicapped. I get back to my job. There are so many things to file that I now have piles sitting all over my desk and even a few piles on the floor. Half an hour later, I am on my knees trying to find the file for Anderson. This is a totally shit job. I didn’t fly all the way over her to file shit and whoever did this job before me has royally messed it up. Nothing is where it is supposed to be. I rummage around on my hands and knees as I try to find the missing file.
An expensive pair of black shoes and blue jeans comes into view, standing next to my desk. I peer up.
It’s the god.
He smirks down at me.
“Can I help you?” I whisper in mortification from my place on the floor.
He smirks. “I am just after one of your business cards.”
I think my mouth nearly drops open. “You are?”
He nods once. “I may have a customer relations emergency.”
I shake my head in embarrassment and stand up in the most awkward manner possible. “Of course.” Oh no. “I haven’t got my business cards yet.”
His eyes hold mine as he waits for me to work it out.
“Oh, I know.” I quickly grab a piece of paper from my desk and scribble down my personal mobile number and nervously pass it over to him.
He takes it, and I watch him fold it meticulously before putting it into his pocket.
“Goodbye,” he breathes as his eyes hold mine once more.
I force a smile but no words will come out of my mouth.
With my heart beating through my chest, I watch as he turns and walks out of the office.
Travis, who has been pretending not to listen, turns in his chair and wheels over to me.
“Did you just give him your number?”
I smirk as I watch Star disappear into the lift. “I think I did.”
Chapter 5
I’m on a mission as I pull open the door of Heirloom. It’s just gone dark outside and I’m starving hungry but determined to make myself a healthy dinner, not just grab junk food on the way home. I’m going to be the size of a house if I keep eating as I have been and I need to try and get into some kind of routine. This holiday eating has got to stop. The doorbell announces my arrival and the little old lady comes out from her back room.
“Hello Emmaline.” She smiles.
I smile with a frown. “It’s Emerson.”
“Oh, that’s right, dear. I’m sorry.”
I smile. She really is a sweet old pawn shark.
“I have your letters.” She bends down and brings out an old, dark wooden box with stampings burned into the sides of it.
My mouth drops open. “Wow. This is so cool.” I unhook the heavy antique bronze latch and open the box. Thick parchment paper letters are lined up like cards. I take the first one and hold it in my hand as my eyes flicker to the old lady, who smiles sweetly.
“I’m so lucky to have come across this ring.” I smile. I really do love it.
Her eyes hold mine. “There is no such thing as luck, my dear.”
I smile as I look at the letter in my hand. This is, without a doubt, the coolest thing I have ever held, and I hold it to my chest.
“Your ring didn’t come to you through luck,” she breathes.
I frown.
“There is no such thing as a coincidence. That ring is meant to be yours.”
What the hell is she talking about? “What do you mean?” I ask.
Her wise eyes hold mine. “‘Trust yourself.”
Huh? Did I miss part of the conversation?
“Trust your instincts.”
I am totally lost. This old woman is senile. What the hell is she talking about?
“I’m sorry.” I frown. “What exactly do you mean?”
“Sometimes it is the sheep in wolves clothing.” Her old eyes hold mine.
Huh?
“Listen to your voice.”
What the actual fuck is she talking about? I fake a smile and put my letter back in its box. I’m getting out of here. The old bat has gone loopy and is starting to freak me out. I pick up my heavy old box and put it under my arm and smile.
“Until we meet again, my dear, I bid you farewell.”
I frown. When are we ever going to meet again? “Goodbye.” I fake a smile and head out the door.
* * *
“Hello?” I call as I open my front door. I have become quite attached to my new roomies already.
No answer. Oh, that’s right. Everyone is working tonight.
I sigh. I’m not cooking meat and vegetables just for myself. There goes the healthy eating plan. I make myself a cup of tea and a piece of toast before I head into my room, turn the lamp on and lie on top of the bench seat beneath my bay window. I carefully take out the first letter and open the thick, old, folded paper. In the dark room, lit only by my lamp, I begin to read.
* * *
Your Highness,
I will do as you ask and come to your chamber tonight at twelve.
Until then…
Your trusted guard.
xx
My imagination runs wild as I envisage the scene set before me.
The large assembly area is filled with commotion. The kingdom’s army has returned from battle, victorious, bloody, and beaten.
The crowds have gathered to celebrate their arrival and the Princess and her father, The King, are perched in their grand seats at the front of a stage. The soldiers march in, led by their leader to the sounds of cheering. Elation fills the township at their victorious and safe return.
The Princess’ heart skips a beat as he comes into view and she stands instinctively. She has worried about the soldiers, but their leader holds a special place in her heart: Alchron the warrior. Towering over the other men, he has a muscular, strong body built for battle, with long, chocolate wavy hair that is tied back. Large brown eyes search for the princess through the crowd. He has been the king’s head guard for five years, and he has watched the king’s daughter, the princess, blossom from a mere teenage girl into a shining, beautiful woman. A warrior by day and a legend by night, his bedroom sports hold as much notoriety as his fighting skills. He can have any woman he wants, but it is the virginal Princess that holds his heart.
He can never have her. She is out of his reach.
That doesn’t stop him from dreaming.
He marches his troops—all in full armor—into the assembly, and they stand to attention in front of their king. The loud sound of their armor comes to a ghostly halt.
The king stands and the soldiers and crowd drop to their knees in respect as silence falls.
“Welcome home,” The King announces.
The crowd all cheer and stand. The soldiers stay kneeled, heads bowed in respect.
“You have saved our kingdom, once again. We live in a safe place because of your sacrifice.” The kings voice echoes across the hushed crowd.
“Thank you!�
�� he calls. The king turns and gestures to the Princess who stands and smiles, forcing the crowd to cheer.
Since her beloved mother was captured along with her guards, and murdered by a kingdom enemy when she was only ten, the kingdom adopted her and adored her. Known far and wide as the people’s Princess, she takes her role seriously. She wears red velvet, a low cut dress with a full skirt. Her waist is always cinched in with a strong corset and her dark hair is in perfect curls on top of her head. Her skin is porcelain and her eyes a fiery green. Her back is ramrod straight from years of impeccable grooming. She walks toward the line up of guards and stops in front of Alchron. His dark, wanting eyes look up at her as he remains on his knees, and she feels her heart flutter in her chest. She has come prepared today. She has a letter held tightly in her hands for him. A letter she wrote over twelve months ago but has never had the courage to give to him. “Stand,” she commands him as the crowd watch on.
He does so immediately and she holds out her empty hand. He frowns and looks down at it. Never has she asked him to touch her.
“Take my hand.” She smiles hopefully.
He takes it and she feels the strong calluses from his years of hard battle. What would it feel like to have those callused hands on her skin? She puts her other hand in his and discretely slips him the letter. His eyes narrow slightly as he takes the note from her.
“Thank you for your service,” she whispers softly and curtsies. He bows his head. The crowd cry out with cheers of joy and she turns away from him, gracefully returning to her position at the front.
“All hail The King!” Alchron yells and the soldiers and crowd all repeat, “All hail The King!”
“Marching!” he yells his command, and like a well-oiled machine, his troops all turn and march out of the assembly. Their armor echoes as it clinks together, the sound of their stamping feet loud once again.
The princess’ heart beats faster in her chest. She did it; she got the letter to him.
Alchron holds his letter with white-knuckle force as he marches back to the army’s base.
This homecoming is especially sweet.
* * *
I wait outside on the curb for Brielle to pick me up. Willow plays soccer so she has asked me to come along and keep her company. It’s not ideal venting territory, but at least I get to speak to her. This job of hers is turning out to be a nightmare. It’s full on and a damn pain in my neck. The car pulls up and she smiles from behind the wheel of her luxurious family wagon. I giggle and open the door. It’s like the Venga bus on acid with the kids all in the back.