King (3 page)

 
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 doing 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.

 
“I was going to wear it tonight, but I wasn’t
sure I could do it enough justice” I laughed as Tristan smiled. “You would look
wonderful in the ‘Michaela’ Charlotte. You must wear it when we meet again” he
smiled as I flushed, feeling the angry stare of Jason King at my side. I turned
to smile, wincing as he squeezed my leg under the table, hard. “Very subtle
Smith” he growled sarcastically and I could barely believe my plan was paying
off. “Do you actually own that dress?” he whispered softly in my ear, as I
turned and giggled, shaking my head. “Bit outside my price range King” I
whispered back, the small smirk that played on his lips, suddenly making me
aware that there was every chance he would expose my lie to Tristan, and my
face fell.

“Charlotte
represents one of the companies who’ll be pitching the advertising campaign for
your collection Tristan, you could wear it then” he said turning to smile at me
as my stomach lurched, and I noticed it was the first time I had ever heard him
say my name. It sounded nice, rolling from his soft full lips I thought, before
Tristan pulled me back from my strange, involuntary musings. “Yes you must wear
the dress for the pitch” he smiled. “Bastard” I whispered coldly in his ear as
soon as the conversation changed, unable to stifle my irritation. He turned and
smirked at me, gloating in his mini victory and clearly revelling in my
humiliation.
 
I avoided his gaze for the
rest of the meal which had obviously been designed with the models in mind. I
was still starving after all three courses. “Do you want mine Smith?” Jason
quipped, sliding me his untouched dessert. I nodded, tucking in as he grinned,
raising his eyebrows before disappearing.