Regards,
Gregory Ryans
CEO
GJR Enterprises
When I take my iPhone from my tote, sure enough, there’s a message waiting for attention.
I’ve moved the interview to 3p.m. I’d like you to come. We can go for dinner afterwards.
I quickly fire a message back. I want to be irritated with his demands and my own acquiescence but the thought of seeing him is making my stomach flutter. It’s half-past nine and I miss him already.
I’ll come to the interview but only because you’re paying me to.
Are you quoting Pretty Woman to me?
I grin, remembering torturing him with his first ever showing ofPretty Woman. Mm, how I’d like to be curled into his chest with popcorn and ice cream instead of texting him from my desk.
I’m impressed. One viewing and you know the words already. I usually do yoga on Mondays… for future reference… but I forgot my kit this morning. We have to talk about Shangzen, I can’t just indulge your wealthy-man arrogance and not put time on my clock. Dinner would be nice.
Another beep makes me chuckle.
You have a lot of attitude this morning.
I quickly message what I promise myself is my last text.
You deserve it!
Then I rest my phone face down on my desk but I can’t resist it for more than five seconds when another message comes through.
Aurora.
I beam, no longer cross or even wanting to be. Then I open my Saunders app and call Amanda.
‘You’re so lazy!’ she says as she answers, referring to the fact my office is about ten paces from hers.
‘Yes, but I’m busy. I forgot my kit for yoga, I’m sorry. Can we go tomorrow?’
‘Don’t be sorry; I only go because you drag my arse. Tomorrow, never, whenever, fine.’
‘Great, let’s do the morning session.’
‘Urgh,’ comes through the line before the phone is slammed down.
Ten forty-five comes around too quickly. I wrap myself in my coat and gather what I need to meet with Gregory so I can go direct from the Savoy.
‘Margaret, I’m going to the brunch meeting,’ I call, hanging my head around the corner of my office to the secretaries’ station.
As I’m walking along the corridor to leave, I hear Amanda gasp dramatically. When I dip into her office, she’s sitting bolt upright in her desk chair. Jon, the new trainee, is staring at his feet.
‘The skinny tie was bad enough but tan shoes with a grey suit?’
Jon looks like a child who just had his favourite toy snatched by a bully. ‘Are they really that bad?’
He notes my presence and looks to me for support, I think, but the best I can do is wince.
Amanda pouts. ‘What you wear is the first impression a client gets of you. Insta-judgment.’
