King (8 page)

“And
you haven’t heard the best bit” she grinned, biting her lip to stifle her smirk
and disguise the fact that her little revelation was something she probably
shouldn’t have been happy about. “Go on” I eyed her suspiciously. “Ian Anderson
lost the fashion pitch” she whispered and I couldn’t help a self satisfied
smirk right back. I didn’t need to ask who’d won. “How many sugars?” she laughed,
fishing the tea bag out of the china mug. “None” I grinned, making my way back
to my desk and firing up my emails. I couldn’t resist.

To: Jason King

Congratulations on the Tristan Wright
account. Really, I mean it.

Smith

Whether he
knew it or not, Jason King had done me a huge favour, and part one of my plan
was in place. Ian Anderson would have to pitch his arse off to make up for that
loss and the awards were three weeks away. Exec of the
Year,
was based solely on twelve months revenue and the deadline was a week on
Friday. I had another five pitches planned, six if we could turn around an idea
for own brand bleach in 48 hours, and there was no way anything worth the
necessary amount of money would come to us within that timescale. Big clients
wanted big impact and gave us big timescales to achieve that. With four
nominees and only one exec allowed per advertising house it would be a close
run battle, but I’d secured all five pitches this week. The revenue wouldn’t
update until Monday which is probably why Ian Anderson was lording it around
and announcing himself as this year’s Grayson nominee. I probably couldn’t beat
King but I’d take runner up. Runner up to Jason King was no mean feat I mused
as I received my reply.

Smith

Sarcasm is not becoming and I still
have the dress. It doesn’t fit any of my friends, they are all so slender. You
might as well have it.

King

I couldn’t
help but laugh. I wasn’t surprised, his ‘friends’ were all size 0, not a size
10 and walked catwalks for a living. I hadn’t been sarcastic, although as I
read it back I realised it could have been taken that way. It was certainly
lean on the charm. I tried again.

Dear Jason

I wasn’t being sarcastic. I am
genuinely pleased you won Tristan Wrights account, whether you realise it or meant
to, you have actually done me a huge favour. I think you will do it tremendous
justice and if you are struggling, you can always utilise the catwalk expertise
and experience of all your slender friends.

Seriously, I mean it. Thank you

Charlotte

My reply came
instantly and I had to read it twice.

Dear Charlotte

If that is true, I wonder if you would
be prepared to return the favour. There is a professional situation unrelated
to the Tristan Wright account that I am struggling with. Unfortunately my slender
friends do not have the experience or expertise that you do in this field.

Seriously, I need your help.

Jason

I couldn’t
pretend I wasn’t intrigued. I was, in fact beside myself with curiosity,
excitement and anticipation swirling through my gut. The thought that Jason
King might need my help was a concept I was entirely unfamiliar with. I called
Katie through. “What do you make of that?” I grinned as she looked at me, eyes
wide and giggling, pushing my chair hard, with me still in it, until it rolled
away from my desk, and was halfway down the office, typing furiously on my
keyboard before I could stop her.

Would love to help.
When do you want me?

She pressed
‘send’ before I could grapple my way back, as I stared at her in horror. She
was laughing profusely before making for the door.
“How many
sugars?”
She smiled as I burst out laughing myself, “still none” I
grinned. “I fucking knew it” I heard her mutter under her breath, still
giggling. I stared at the screen waiting for a response and my heart leapt
despite myself when the reply came through.

King Marketing foyer, tonight at
7.00pm

I swallowed
hard. It was true that tonight I wouldn’t have to work until Midnight for once,
I was in front on most of the pitches for next week, and Katie had even started
on an extra campaign for pre boiled eggs in case the revenue gap between me and
Ian was closer than I thought, and that was over and above the own brand
bleach. I sat back in my chair, wondering if this was a really bad idea,
deciding eventually that it probably was but I would go anyway. The truth was
,
I hadn’t seen King since we’d clashed on the street
outside the wine bar and he’d told me ‘not to fuck the model’.

 
The amount of work my loyal little team had
ploughed through was incredible and a phenomenal distraction from the man in
the next building. I wasn’t thinking about him nearly as much, probably only
once an hour now. The irritation I normally felt had dissipated, replaced with
a dreamy vision of his eyes blazing into mine as he pounded me with that
beautiful cock up against the door of his office. I felt sure that within five
minutes, he’d have pissed me off with a smug look or infuriating comment,
reminding me what an arrogant prick he was, and I would be back in the familiar
state of general annoyance with Jason King that I was both more familiar and
comfortable with. It was worth going just for that.

OK

Was my simple
reply, I was damned if I’d betray that I was in any way looking forward to the
encounter, although the butterflies erupting furiously from my churning stomach
reminded me otherwise. “The deed is done” I grinned at Katie as she returned
with a no sugar tea and sat down, assessing me closely and trying hard to
stifle her smug ‘you’re into him’ grin. “Where are you meeting him?’ she
chuckled, taking a sip of her coffee. “Foyer of King at 7” I said simply as she
looked me up and down shaking her head, smiling.

“You
can’t go like that
Lotty
. No offence honey, I know
you’ve been working flat out, and 20 hours sleep in a week would probably throw
anyone off, but you look like shit. Your suit doesn’t even match”. My eyes flew
to my outfit and I was horrified to realise she was right. The grey skirt had
little checks in the material and was a slightly darker shade than the grey
jacket that didn’t. I hadn’t even noticed as she laughed out loud. “Oh my God,
I’ve been getting dressed in the dark to get in here for six, I didn’t even
realise Katie. Just exactly how many days have you let me walk around looking
like my wardrobe puked on me?”

 
I narrowed my eyes at her. “It’s been getting
steadily worse” she laughed “You’ve got away with it
Lotty
,
don’t panic. Ian noticed though and I couldn’t help but laugh. He said you
weren’t yourself and smugly told me that the fashion pitch much have taken a
much bigger toll than he’d realised”. I smiled at
that,
he clearly still had no idea what we’d been up to. “I told him he was right.
It’s amazing just how deluded some people are. He clearly thinks your ego is as
big as his. I suspect being taken off a pitch wouldn’t be something he handled
very well”. “I think you’re right, but what the hell am I going to do about
this?” I gestured at my outfit as she looked at me, a small smile curving her
lips. “Why are you bothered
Lotty
, I thought you
hated him?” I rolled my eyes as she burst out laughing, “
store
room now” she grinned, gesturing for me to follow her.

“There
must be something in here” she smiled as we made our way into the treasure
trove that was the Grayson International Media store room. “Dear God Katie,
what the hell is all this stuff?” I laughed, throwing a rubber chicken at her
back. “It’s what we get sent from customers to inspire us for our pitches,
mostly the ones we don’t use”. “I think it’s unlikely I’ll find anything
worthwhile in here” I grinned, speculatively eyeing up some gardening equipment
and a collection of coloured toilet paper as she beckoned me around the corner
to reveal rack after rack of clothes, hung in size order on silver hangers and
I gasped out loud. “Have you never noticed how I go out straight from work in a
completely different outfit?” I nodded, smiling at her. “I get it back, and no
one’s any the wiser” she grinned, pulling out a cashmere wrap dress in pale
pink as I gaped at her wide eyed.

“I’ve
been saving this little beauty for the right occasion. Stylish, feminine and
short enough to be a little bit sexy” she winked as I held it up against myself
nodding enthusiastically. “Shoes” she said firmly as I followed her to another
section. “This is a bit
more tricky
, they always send
a five. Some are bigger than others and I can shove my sixes into them” she
looked at my feet. “What size are you?” “Five” I laughed, her eyes brightening,
betraying her excitement at the thought we could really get stuck into the
collection that I now realised was Katie’s own personal shopping heaven, no
cash required.

“Nude
patent and very, very high” she squealed. Had I any idea that all these
wonderful items were nestling in the bowels of my workplace, I would definitely
have been down here before. “Who knows about this stuff?” I laughed. “Everyone,
but no one except me and Annabel on reception know just how good some of it is
and that’s the way we want to keep it OK. Most people think its rubber chickens
and gardening shears. Annabel logs it all and lets me know if there’s anything
interesting. I like that I can come down here and I’m on my own. If word gets
out, it will be like Selfridges on Boxing Day, can you imagine?” I laughed
loudly, I definitely could. “Go and get changed
Lotty
and I’ll come and sort your hair out for you” she winked as I dragged my
fingers through it and nodded. It was clean, but in my rush this morning, it
would be fair to say that was all it had going for it.

She
was right. Whatever he wanted my help
with,
it
wouldn’t hurt to look my best while offering it. The last I’d heard the man was
dating a supermodel, and whilst I could in no way compete with that, I could
surely do better than a mismatched suit and a blouse with a tea stain. As six
forty five rolled around she had revived my hair with a tropical smelling
treatment for enhanced body that she had recovered from the treasure trove, and
teased it into soft curls with a great little device I’d decided I’d actually
go out and purchase myself. He’d know I was coming straight from work and
assumed I always looked like this. That couldn’t hurt, I thought, trying to
push back sexual thoughts about Jason King and hoping he’d just be his usual
self and irritate me immediately. The thought that I could actually desire him
was infinitely worse.

Chapter
5

I
couldn’t shake the nerves that consumed me as I made my way into the King
Marketing foyer at five to seven, my mouth was bone dry and as he came out of
the elevator, striding confidently towards me I swallowed hard. He looked
glorious, black dress pants slung low around his waist, his crisp white shirt
open at the collar, having discarded his tie, black hair seriously mussed up. I
couldn’t decide whether it was because he’d been running anxious fingers
through it, or just finished another sexual dalliance up against his office
door. I frowned at the thought, just as he approached me smiling broadly.
“Smith” he grinned “What’s with the face?” My eyes shot to his, releasing the
frown and I shook my head. “Nothing King, what do you need me for?” His smile
was wicked and mischievous and my stomach flipped, as I suddenly wondered what
the hell I was getting myself into. “Follow me” he said eventually, nodding in
recognition to his staff who
were
filing out of the
building. “Where are we going, your office?” I said quietly, my voice breaking
slightly, betraying the nerves I was desperately trying to push back as he
raised an eyebrow at me. It hadn’t gone unnoticed.

 
“No, I don’t trust you in there” he grinned,
winking at me as I rolled my eyes. Carry on King, keep reminding me why I hate
you,
I thought to myself, my mouth set in a firm line as I
followed him into the elevator, ignoring the heat radiating from him in the
enclosed space as he raked his eyes slowly over my body. I was at least three
steps behind him as I followed him silently into a huge room, filled with
couches, rugs, beanbags, balls and all kinds of strange textured items on the
wall as I looked around dumbfounded. “What’s this?” I frowned as he shrugged
laughing.
“Creative space.
Just sit down and I’ll tell
you why I need your help”. I chose a huge butter-soft leather settee and
flopped back, looking around as he came towards me, a square white box, wrapped
in gold satin ribbon held in his hands, a small smile playing around his lips,
eyes twinkling.

“I’ve
got a pitch I need your help with” he said eventually as I eyed him
suspiciously. “Well two things concern me about that King. Firstly I’m the
competition. Secondly, I know from painful experience that you are
frighteningly effective at pitching advertising campaigns without my help”. I
held his gaze, his smile broadening. “I couldn’t think of anyone more fitting
for this. The creative department have only come up with the usual clichés and
I want something unique and different, it’s incredibly important to me”. I
couldn’t contain my curiosity “What is it?” I stared at him, his eyes twinkling
more than ever. “Cake” he grinned. Evidently, insulting me was the main purpose
of my visit. “Ask your girlfriend King” I said sarcastically, rising to walk
towards the door. “I don’t do girlfriends” he said simply, opening the box and
holding it under my nose. ‘Oh my God’ I thought to myself, licking my lips
involuntarily as I took in the round vision of chocolate and vanilla paradise
that was resting in the box. Except for the lonely mini roll, not a morsel of
sponge had passed my lips in a week, it was tempting.