The Making of Mia (27 page)

The girl glanced at her notes, but didn’t stop to read them. ‘Are you the one from American
Vanity Fair
?’ she asked, and Mia nodded, impressed – this girl had clearly memorised the day’s schedule. ‘Follow me,’ she said briskly,
and Mia followed her through to a drawing-room, the girl’s steel stiletto heels clattering on the wooden floor.

The drawing-room was what Mia had come to expect from the best hotels in London. There was a roaring fire, creamy white sofas
and chairs, and oil paintings created by the local Bloomsbury set hung from the walls. However, Mia paid no attention to them,
for sitting in an armchair near the fire was William. Mia felt her heart race as she watched him
tug at his expensive-looking suit, and she ran her eyes over him, greedily drinking in every detail.

William’s blond hair looked as though it had been recently trimmed, and his face – which had rarely seen a razor when he lived
in the Hampshire countryside – was free of the dark blond stubble she was used to. Mia didn’t think she’d ever seen William
clean-shaven before, and his smooth skin made his jawline appear even stronger: it was incredibly masculine, and Mia wondered
what it would be like to run her tongue over his chin. William’s eyes still shone the electric blue that Mia remembered, but
his lips – his kissable, touchable lips – were scowling. On any other man his expression would look childlike and petulant,
but it just made William look dark and brooding. William had always been the sexiest man Mia had ever seen, but the new, more
sophisticated William took her breath away. He was gorgeous. And Mia didn’t know how she would be able to control her emotions
in front of him.

‘Mr Denning, Mia Blackwood from
Vanity Fair
is here to see you,’ the girl said, and she walked off, leaving William staring at Mia with an unreadable expression. Mia
quickly wondered if William recognised her, but when he stood and looked her up and down he didn’t seem to realise who she
was. Neither did he appear to find her attractive, which Mia found unnerving. She was used to making an impact on men immediately.

‘How do you do,’ William said formally, and he offered Mia his hand. Mia held her breath and as her hand slipped into his,
she felt a spark of electricity blast through her body. She tried not to blush, and she gazed up at William through lowered
eyelids. If he’d felt anything between them it certainly wasn’t showing on his face.

‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Mia said, her voice wobbling slightly. ‘I couldn’t get a cab for ages.’

William looked down at her. Again, Mia couldn’t tell what he was thinking. ‘It’s fine,’ he said kindly. ‘But let’s get on
with it, shall we? I have interviews all afternoon and I don’t want to run behind.’ Mia thought she heard well-masked irritation
in William’s voice, and she wondered why he didn’t seemed charmed by her beauty like every other man was. She quickly took
her dictaphone from her handbag and put it on the small round table between them.

‘Um, why don’t we begin by you telling me what your book is about,’ Mia said with a smile. She had been so wrapped up in working
out what to wear, and wondering if William would recognise her, that she hadn’t prepared any interview questions. It was unprofessional
and absolutely unlike her. William sighed heavily, his broad shoulders slouching slightly.

‘I’d rather not, if it’s all the same,’ he said. ‘My publicist should have sent you the notes beforehand, but I’ve got a spare
set here if you want.’ William leant down and produced a scruffy-looking rucksack from behind the chair. In comparison to
his expensive suit and the opulence of the room it looked out of place, and it reminded Mia sharply of the William she’d fallen
in love with, not of the shaved and polished version in front of her.

‘Thanks, that’s very kind,’ Mia said, before tentatively wondering what her next question should be. ‘What inspired you to
write
Caviar Society
?’ she asked finally, and after a long pause in which William tried not to roll his eyes, he spoke. His voice was gentle,
but there was a slight patronising edge to it.

‘If you know anything about the book you’ll know it’s a pastiche of society in London. I mostly grew up in the country, but
I sometimes had to visit the city with my father when he did business. I immediately noticed how shallow people were in London
compared to those who lived in the
country, and it seemed like a natural idea to write about. They say “write about what you know”, and I did just that.’

Mia swallowed. She imagined William writing the book at The Royal Oak, and memories of his bedroom – and how his bed had smelt
deliciously of him – flooded her mind. Mia yearned to tell William who she was, to touch him, but she knew she couldn’t. She
needed to get a grip.

‘What is it specifically about London that you don’t like?’ Mia asked, hoping her voice sounded neutral. She settled further
back into her chair, and didn’t realise that her already short skirt had slid up her thighs. William ignored Mia’s tanned,
toned legs and looked around the room. He seemed to be amused.

‘Why, all of it. What’s to like? London has such a fascinating history, but the people who live here make a mockery of it,
creating pastiches of what they think the city should be like. Look at those watering cans, for example, he remarked, gesturing
at some silver watering cans with leafy plants growing out of them. ‘They’re ridiculous, and probably cost hundreds of pounds.
Why on earth would anyone think that this urban version of gardening would be appropriate for a drawing-room in a hotel? And
who would spend a stupid amount of money on something so crude?’

‘Some would say that they’re in here because they look nice,’ Mia commented, and William laughed.

‘And existing because “they look nice” sums up London good and proper, doesn’t it?’ he said, sparring with her. ‘My editor
goes on about London having the best of everything – restaurants, museums, architecture – but if you scratch beneath the surface
you’ll see that there’s nothing actually there. Everything in middle-class London looks nice, but really, it’s meaningless
beauty. And that statement includes the women,’ he said, pointedly.

Mia shrank back from his gaze. ‘I’m sorry?’ she asked in a small voice. She thought they had been getting on so well, but
now, rather than chatting like they used to, William had just insulted her. She almost wished William knew who she really
was so he would scoop her up in his arms like he once had. She wasn’t sure she liked being on the wrong side of him.

‘Miss Blackwood, if you’d read one of the hundreds of preview copies of
Caviar Society
that were sent out, you’d know that a large section of it sends up London’s painted ladies. Of course, prostitutes in London
are nothing new, but there’s a new breed of women in the city who think that the world is their oyster just because they were
born with bright eyes, impeccable features and cupid-bow lips. Truly, the way they whore themselves about the city is disgusting.
They say they’re career women – “working” in PR, journalism, fashion – but really they’re just on the lookout for either a
man who is rich or one who is famous. They don’t want real love, they just want to be worshipped, and
Caviar Society
captures that growing trend.’

William stopped talking and took a glug of his whisky. He refused to meet Mia’s eyes. ‘Let’s take you, for example,’ he said.
‘You’re the fourth journalist I’ve met today, and just like you, the three other girls who came to interview me dressed up,
pouted, and didn’t know what my book was about. Of course, you’re by far the prettiest, but when did magazines stop sending
real journalists on assignment? When did beauty overtake talent in many of London’s key professions? I read an article in
the paper today about City men who get their eyebrows waxed to get ahead. It’s ludicrous. And I resent that every facet of
London society has to be perfectly groomed.’

Mia didn’t know what to say. She felt physically sick that William didn’t respect her, but she needed to hold her own,
despite her eyes stinging with tears. ‘You’re just seeing one side of London,’ she said, after managing to control her emotions.
‘You’re assuming that because you find me attractive I must be dumb, that because the media industry employs girls with pretty
faces as well as brains, we’re shallow, and that because a few London hotels are stylish, the city doesn’t have any depth.
Surely you’re the one who is superficial by making these presumptions.’

William stared at Mia, he wasn’t used to fawning journalists standing up to him. ‘Maybe I am,’ he said, downing the rest of
his whisky. ‘But maybe I’m just sick of being interviewed by people who don’t know the first thing about me, as well. Look,
no offence, you seem like a perfectly nice girl, but I’m going to have to end this interview. I’m here on sufferance because
the publishing company thinks I should get some media exposure to boost sales, but I’ve had enough of it for one day.’

Mia leant forward and turned her dictaphone off. Part of her wanted to stop the charade, to tell William who she really was,
but another part wanted to leave too. If William ever knew who she really was he would no doubt be disgusted by her for changing
how she looked, for being so superficial.

‘Fair enough,’ Mia said as flippantly as she could, and she bit her lip hard, desperately hoping she wouldn’t start crying.
‘I’ll tell the magazine that you changed your mind.’

William nodded as he pulled off his smart shoes and replaced them with heavy walking boots that were at odds with his suit.
They were very him. ‘You do that,’ he said, and he glanced at her with a smile. ‘Look, don’t take anything I said to heart
and don’t be upset,’ he remarked, and he gave her a friendly look that made her want to confide in him, that made her want
to tell him the truth. But before Mia could say or do anything, William walked out of the drawing-room, leaving his smart
black shoes behind.

Mia sat back down again and stared at them until the tears that welled up in her eyes blurred her focus. Even though Mia had
never really had William, she realised that by having surgery she had lost him for ever.

The moment Mia walked through her front door her phone began to ring. She picked it up when it was obvious Amelia wasn’t going
to be content with leaving a voicemail message.

‘So …?’ Amelia asked, without bothering to say hello.

‘He didn’t recognise me,’ Mia said bluntly so that her voice wouldn’t wobble. ‘I was a bit disappointed, but ultimately I’m
pleased. If William doesn’t recognise me then Joshua Garnet won’t either. So it’s good. It’s great. Perfect.’

‘But how was it seeing him again? Did you connect?’

‘Not really, no.’

Amelia was silent, wondering what had gone wrong. ‘Are you OK?’

Mia forced a smile, hoping it would make her voice sound happier. ‘Great, never better,’ she said briskly. ‘I’m in the middle
of working out how to get a meeting at
Gloss
next week, in fact.’

‘Jo—’ Amelia began.

‘It’s Mia,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m never going to be Jo again. Never. Meeting William proved that much to me.’

Amelia sighed. ‘Don’t you think you deserve a bit of a break? You’ve had months of intense surgery, and you’re flinging yourself
into your career here … do you fancy going to Italy or something? Just for a long weekend?’

Mia briefly considered it, but then pushed the thought
away. ‘I’d love to, Ames, really I would, but I’m in London for a reason, and I need to get on with things.’ Her eyes flashed
in anger, and, for the first time in hours, a real smile spread on her face. ‘I can’t wait to see Joshua Garnet again.’

Mia sat in the reception area of
Gloss
and marvelled at how, in the space of a few years, nothing seemed to have changed. Even though a beautiful, ice-blonde Russian
called Natalia had replaced Rachel, the hostility that Mia could feel prickling over the reception desk remained unchanged.
As the receptionist stared at her spitefully, Mia wondered if it had been written into her hand-over notes that she had to
be as rude as possible to other girls. Mia grinned back at her, and shifted slightly on the red suede sofa so that her skirt
rose slightly on her slender tanned thighs. Despite the chill in the winter air Mia couldn’t resist showing off her Miami
tan, and even though she had some misgivings about not wearing tights to a job interview she knew that Joshua Garnet would
appreciate the look. When Natalia’s expression changed from one of dislike to that of utter hate, Mia knew she looked more
than good. She just hoped that looking hot would distract Joshua from realising that she was Joanne Hill.

‘Mia Blackwood? Lucy Davenport. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.’ Mia stood up and smiled at Lucy, and the girls shook
hands and assessed each other quickly. Lucy had let her light-brown hair grow even longer so that it brushed past her nipples,
and she was wearing a dark grey shirt-dress that was buckled tightly at her tiny waist. It fitted her perfectly. To complement
the outfit she was wearing some purple crocodile-skin Dior boots – ones that Mia had been coveting ever since she had seen
the winter collections in the magazines. Mia beamed at Lucy brightly, and hoped she didn’t come across as nervous.

‘I know I’m not sitting in on this interview, but I absolutely
had to come and meet you to say hello. Joshua’s PA asked me to let you know that our finance directors are in our boardroom
all day, so the interview is going to take place in Joshua Garnet’s office. It’s at the back of the editorial room so you’ll
get to see the layout of the place,’ Lucy said, as she led Jo through the familiar corridor towards
Gloss
. ‘Madeline Turner is off work at the moment – I’m sure Joshua will fill you in on that – so it’s just going to be you and
him in the interview. I hope that’s OK?’

Lucy shot Mia a quick glance as they paused outside the double doors that opened into the office. ‘I know that having a one-on-one
with the man who runs the whole publishing group is quite daunting, but I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ Lucy said. As she quickly
cast her eyes over Mia’s poker-straight expression she wondered if there was any point in trying to reassure her – she didn’t
look at all concerned about being left alone with Joshua Garnet. ‘Everyone at
Gloss
is really friendly, and we’ve all been dying to put a face to the famous Mia Blackwood for ages.’