King (7 page)

I
wasn’t sure of my motives, but I knew that irritating King would be a happy
side effect as I left the booth. I wasn’t really sure why I wanted to, but the
sight of the redhead fawning all over
him
was irking
me more than I’d thought. I bounded up to the handsome model as he bent to kiss
my cheeks. “Charlotte” he grinned “It’s great to see you again. I looked for
you after the dinner at the London Models party but I heard you’d left, I was
hoping for a dance” he smiled, his deep chocolate eyes twinkling with humour.
“I’ll take a wine instead Robbie” I giggled, finishing the rest of my
Chardonnay and asking him who he was modelling for, and how the architecture
was going. “It’s a mad time, my finals are coming up and I honestly don’t know
how I’m going to cope with it all” he shrugged, smiling. I offered as much
support as I could, straightening immediately as I felt the warm firm hand
slide around my waist from behind, a familiar masculine scent and soft cool
breath on the back of my neck sending a surge of unexpected electricity down my
spine.

“Don’t
fuck the model Charlotte” he whispered gently into my ear and before I could
turn to berate him for his barefaced cheek, he was gone, striding towards the
door as I stood there stunned. I didn’t know what to make of it. Half of me was
furious, the other half melting at the sound of my name, rolling like smooth
caramel from his tongue, which had taken me straight back to the incident in
his office which I’d enjoyed far more than my logical brain wanted to admit.
“Are you OK?” Robbie smiled as I nodded, handing me a Chardonnay as I beckoned
a stunned Katie over to join us. I needed the moral support and I just wanted
to get out of there.

I
made the introductions and they hit it off, Katie immediately enamoured by the
gorgeous looks and warm personality of the student and part time model, as I
put two more bottles on the tab for my secret helpers, made my excuses and
left, waving them goodnight and collapsing against the wall outside as I waited
for a taxi. How could Jason King blindside me so much with one single comment
and turn a one sugar day into a five sugar day in the space of a few seconds. I
half wished the cafe was still open for a slab of red velvet cake with cream
cheese frosting as I stood there, listening to the chatter of the smokers who
were speculating on the upcoming advertising awards. I didn’t hear my name
among the guesswork, but plenty of mentions of Jason King and Ian Anderson, of
all people, which I found infinitely more annoying.

Almost
since the day I started at Grayson, that man had done everything he could to
make my life hell. I wasn’t sure why, but as my success grew and I started to
win more and more of the big accounts I realised he was threatened by me. The
company was thriving and we were in the enviable position of choosing our clients,
offered far more potential contracts than we could handle and there was more
than enough to go around. According to Katie, before I came on board, he was
the big fish in the big pond and he wanted it to stay that way. The last thing
he wanted was his professional ego to be dented, especially by a woman and it
probably didn’t help that I’d once blown him out. He believed his place was at
the top and he’d do anything to get there. Much like King, but infinitely less
attractive and with absolutely none of the charm, I reluctantly admitted to
myself.

 
“Still frustrated?”
I
heard the voice from the depths of the shadows well before I saw him emerge
from the alley at the side of the wine bar. There was a serious edge to his
tone, for once it wasn’t laced with cynicism or dripping with sarcasm as he
walked across to face me, just as the redhead rounded the same corner catching
me with a steely gaze and I couldn’t help but laugh as I looked between them.
“Seriously?”
I frowned, walking down the street, shaking my
head but I didn’t make it five hundred yards before the firm hand was grabbing
my elbow and forcing me around to face him. “Get the fuck off me King” I yelled
as he stepped back, eyebrows raised, stunned momentarily by the force of my
words, before the smirk flickered briefly on his soft full lips. “I don’t know
what the hell your game is but I really don’t want to play anymore.” I was way
more upset at the situation than I knew I should have been.

“I’ve
got you rattled haven’t I Smith” he said simply, a statement not a question,
the full arrogance of the man I loathed shining like a beacon in stunning HD on
the dimly lit street. I bit my lip, pushing down my anger, determined not to
show him the depths of my hurt. “No King, I’m disappointed in myself for going
anywhere near a man who thinks a knee trembler down a back alley over the age
of sixteen is acceptable. That said, up against the door of your office isn’t
that much better and I’ve only got myself to blame for that. I’ve chalked you
up as an experience never to be repeated. I’m not pitching against you anymore
so it’s not in your interests to waste your time or your energy trying to
rattle me, annoy me or indeed do anything with me.”

He
assessed me closely, his tongue making a slow path across his bottom lip and I
couldn’t help but follow its delicious journey despite myself. “I was letting
her down gently while she had a cigarette, not fucking her. Besides, I like
rattling you”. I let out a huge sigh, as much an exhale of relief about the
redhead as it was pent up frustration at Kings constant badgering, but there
was no way I was letting him know that.
“Why Jason?”
I
said, noticing his face softening as I used his name, wondering if he was
having the same momentary flashbacks as I had earlier. “Because you’re as sexy
as fuck when you’re angry Charlotte” and my breath hitched, his blue eyes
burning into mine and I almost grabbed him, pulling him towards me, just as
sanity arrived in the shape of Katie, Robbie and the five junior creative’s.
They were about to save my professional butt and it suddenly hit me that I owed
them a lot more than diving into the arms of the very man, who at my
insistence, we were trying to outmanoeuvre.

“I
thought you’d gone home. We’re going to a club are you coming?” smiled Katie,
slicing through the tension like a knife. “Sure, why not?” I said quickly,
plastering on a fake smile before glancing at Jason, his eyes losing none of
the intensity they had blazed before as he held my gaze. “Goodnight King” I
smiled. “Smith” he growled simply, turning and making his way back into the
bar. “What did we just interrupt?” grinned Katie, hanging her slightly
inebriated frame on the arm of a very happy Robbie as I stepped forward
flagging two black cabs, gazing mindlessly into the night sky through the
window as we sped away to Kensington.

The
club was the blow out I needed, pulsating with bass and had been literally
jumping, as had I. I had wound up granting Robbie Hurst his dance after all, so
had Katie and every one of the junior creative’s and by the time we fell out of
there at three o’clock, our friendships had been clearly cemented, forged
between cocktails and alternative house mixes. Katie had asked what she’d been
interrupting on the street and it was a question I’d been unable to answer
convincingly. I wasn’t sure what had happened with King myself, I was less and
less sure around him these days, fluctuating from outright frustration to
absolute arousal and every feeling in between. If last night was anything to go
by, I couldn’t be certain that screwing him out of my system had altogether
worked. I wondered if doing it again would help me decide, before mentally
slapping myself. He was under my skin more than ever right now and I was mighty
thankful for the distraction that work was providing. With three pitches on
Monday, I spent Saturday hammering into my laptop to finalise the presentations
with a thumping head and two
paracetamol
every four
hours until I crawled exhausted into bed again. Sunday I needed a run. This
time, I chose another park.

“Do
you want me to come and help you prep for tomorrow?” Katie called just as I got
in, pulling my trainers off, throwing them across the hall and towelling myself
down. “I can’t ask you to do that Katie, it’s Sunday. You’re already pulling
out all the stops for me on this” I smiled down the line. “Fine, but call me if
you need me, do you think you’ll be ready?” “Yes. I’ll be back in the office
late tomorrow and I’ll be burning the candle well into the night. If you and
the guys can finalise aspirin and long handled matches, that would be beyond
awesome, and I’ll let you all decide on what we take next” I grinned as she
laughed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fertiliser or fungal nail cream,
however will I choose” and I laughed along. It was hardly the stuff that dreams
were made of, but if I won enough accounts I’d be edging up those sales
rankings with a shot at a nomination for Exec of the Year and no one, but no
one, would see it coming.

My
good mood persisted as I practiced my pitch until a Google alert brought me
crashing down to earth and reaching for a mini roll. It was a poor substitute
for a good slice of cake but it was there, languishing solitarily in the bottom
of my biscuit tin and I couldn’t help but take pity on it. At least it was
limited edition, I thought, biting through the chocolate to reveal surprisingly
tasty raspberry ripple flavoured layers of sweetness.
 
It didn’t help, and neither did a
five
sugar brew, so I sent the text;

‘Hypocrite: Somebody who pretends to
have admirals, principles, beliefs or feelings but behaves otherwise,
especially a person whose actions belie stated beliefs.

I couldn’t
believe his nerve. ‘Don’t fuck the model Smith’ he’d said at the bar, and there
he was as large as life on the
sodding
internet,
strolling arm in arm with the supermodel again, looking every inch as arrogant
as ever, less than twenty four hours later. Where the fuck did he
get
off saying that?

?

Was the short
reply that irked me even
more.
Telling me ‘not to fuck
the model’ then doing the self same thing was the height of hypocrisy. Maybe
all the mutual orgasms they’d shared had fried the synapses in his brain. I
looked at the pictures again. They were absolutely stunning together, all dark
black hair, dazzling blue eyes and chiselled cheekbones and I hated how angry
it made me, how he felt it OK to berate me for speaking to Robbie when he was
clearly screwing
Tamsin
Lloyd.
Cheeky
bastard.
I sent my reply. If I was irritated enough to send the first
text, I was sure as hell going to let him know why.

‘
Don’t fuck the model’. Ring any bells?

My reaction
was completely over the top and as the thoughts came more and more frequently I
pushed them back, unable to quite believe what I was feeling. It came in the form
of a text, like a punch in the gut, one simple word and I couldn’t deny it to
myself any longer;

Jealous?

Yes. Whether
I liked it or not, and I most certainly did not. I couldn’t reply, forging
ahead all week with the presentations, more determined than ever to get my
professional life back on track, and banish Jason King from my thoughts.
Through a whirlwind of five pitches, with five more in the prepping process and
even the junior juniors being brought in to brainstorm the accounts that were
left on the report, by Friday afternoon I had just about managed it. Katie was
grinning as I walked into the kitchen, shocked at the amount of work we’d
managed to get through, and the fact that despite growing curiosity from the
other executives that even our happy little band of juniors had managed to keep
a lid on the clandestine nature of our secret operation. “He’s asked about you
every night this week you know” she said fixing me a cup of tea as I flushed,
smiling. I was trying desperately hard to push him to the back of my mind,
every time he popped in there. I had cancelled the Google alerts and all
speculation about the advertising awards that was buzzing around the building
was banned in my office, but the involuntary flip of my stomach betrayed that
this was welcome news.

 
“What’s he said?”
 
I aimed for casual as Katie raised her
eyebrows, staring at
me,
it clearly wasn’t going to
work. “He’s asked where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re doing it with,
and he’s tried to sound every bit as casual about it as you are now” she
grinned. I couldn’t help the small giggle that broke through my lips. “I just
told him you were busy working on some Government schools project. He asked Ian
Anderson about it and Ian went to Grayson. Grayson told Ian he didn’t know
about it and called Alison.” I stared at her open mouthed “Shit” was all I
could manage as she nodded seriously. “Alison called me in to tell me when you
were out on a pitch”.

My
heart sank and I could just envisage Alison’s pursed lips and sour face with
her glasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose, as she hauled
Katie’s arse over the coals. “I’m so sorry Katie, what did she say?” She was
laughing hard, pulling off an incredibly accurate impression of Alison. “I’m
not questioning her Grayson, the girls the best we’ve got and she’s bringing it
in like no one else. If that stops, I’ll ask her. If she’s managed to sniff out
something that’s not been released yet, then it’s hers. If you intend to ask
Charlotte to give up another plum pitch to Anderson, or anyone else, then
you’ll have to do it yourself”.
“No way.
She really
said that?” I gasped, as Katie grabbed my chin laughing, to push my duly
stunned mouth back together. “Honestly
Lotty
, word
for word” and I was shaking my head incredulously, more than a little satisfied
I now knew my boss had more than a grudging respect for me, she had never shown
it before.