King Read online

  Even my logical brain hadn’t ruled it out immediately which was most unusual. It felt mischievous, it felt intoxicating and it felt like the only way I might be able to move forward with Jason. Right now my head was such a jumble of emotions, but the excitement in my churning stomach was infinitely preferable to the dark tears of this morning and I found myself nodding. “When’s the next party?” and she grinned broadly “Tonight”.

  Chapter 6

  It turned out that getting into one of these parties was infinitely harder than gate crashing the London models event. Sasha had to be my sponsor and referee and if I behaved inappropriately we would both be banished. Apparently there was a community for these things and word would spread, and by the time she collected me at 7.30pm I’d received the full low down on what was considered acceptable behaviour and what, most definitely, was not. On Sasha’s advice, I had vamped up my usual look somewhat, in a short black dress and killer heels, and gone all out dramatic on the eye make-up, partly hoping it would act like a mask and no one would recognise me.

  My stomach was all over the place and I hadn’t eaten all day, my head was spinning with ‘what if’s’ and the thought of seeing Jason again had meant, by the time we arrived at the venue I had just stopped short of barricading myself in the car and refusing to leave. Ever. Sasha was a necessary calming influence and I felt sure the five years I had on her in maturity were far from on show tonight. “Deep breaths Lotty, you’ll be fine. Some of the outfits might be different than you’re used to, but apart from that it’s just like any other party. You pitch for a living, turn on the charm Sweetheart”. Her little pep talk made me laugh as I took a deep breath and followed her into the club.

  It was dark, enchanting and mysterious, full of men in high end, well cut suits and women in a variety of outfits, all stunning and glamorous and the air was so thick with testosterone you could practically smell it.

  Sasha beckoned over a handsome dark haired man almost as soon as we were through the door. He was early thirties I guessed, well over six feet tall with an accent that made me melt all over, making me think he’d studied at Oxford or Cambridge. He was incredibly attentive to her, staring adoringly before she shooed him to the bar for two glasses of champagne. “Is that him?” I grinned as she winked, glancing around the room and nodding. “I can’t see Jason though” and I could hear the faint tinge of disappointment in her tone. “You need to go and mingle Lotty, but just make sure you wait to be approached, remember the rules OK? And relax, you look stunning, just be yourself and have fun. Remember, there are absolutely no expectations on you”. I nodded, taking a deep breath as she beckoned her barrister, and I couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he’d soon be prostrate with those huge killer heels jarring into his back.

  I made my way into the centre of the room, following the lead of the other women there and assuming a suitably feminine and subdued pose. It reminded me of one of those 1950’s dances I’d seen in films where the women sat on benches looking demure and docile, waiting to be picked by the men. It was such a contrast to the cut and thrust world of advertising that I occupied every day, foregoing my femininity for thinly disguised aggression in the race to success, that I actually enjoyed the contrast. It was nice not to be pigeonholed as permanently one thing or another, and the flexibility of trading positions was as exciting as it was enlivening, and for the first time I could see where the barrister with the beautiful accent was coming from.

  “Hello” said the deep voice, stirring me from my thoughts as my eyes travelled upwards over the tall, broad man standing before me and I smiled to myself, I was off the bench. “Hi I’m Charlotte” I said, craning my neck to meet chestnut eyes, dark brown hair with natural blond highlights, a rock solid body and crooked nose that hinted at years on a rugby pitch. He was ruggedly handsome with a dazzling smile. “Ewan” he held out his hand, squeezing mine firmly in a gesture that was in no uncertain terms letting me know he could pick me up over his shoulder in an instant and take me back to his cave, and it was a strangely thrilling thought. “I haven’t seen you here before” he smiled, the Scottish hint to his accent, like music to my ears and I was beginning to find the whole environment strangely exciting, full of unspoken possibilities and utterly intoxicating. “It’s my first time Ewan” and he tilted his head, assessing me closely. “Let me get you another drink Charlotte” he grinned as I waited for him to return from the bar.

  I didn’t have to wait long, concluding that men like Ewan got served immediately, rather like someone else I knew, thoughts returning to Jason, the bottom suddenly dropping out of my stomach at the thought he might not want me. God, I hadn’t even considered that possibility and my face fell. “Are you OK?” Ewan’s soft Scottish accent brought me right back into the present. “Yes” I nodded “I’m just a bit nervous” I smiled as I felt the radiating heat of a new presence to my right, not as broad as Ewan but by no means less intimidating. My stomach flipped at his appearance and fell as soon as I saw the anger carved into his face. “Jason” Ewan held out his hand. “Would you excuse us” he said firmly, his arm sliding around my waist as he all but pushed me to the exit onto a deserted patio. I stole a glance back at Ewan who was cocking his head, smirking at me and watching us, slightly bewildered.

  “What the fuck are you doing here Charlotte?” he said, his voice low and deep but filled with an anger and emotion I wasn’t used to from Jason. He was usually calm, usually in control, but right now he was anything but. I didn’t answer, visibly shrinking under the force of his glare. “Are you here because of me?” he demanded and I didn’t know what to say. I was, but I wasn’t altogether sure that admitting it at this point was the sensible thing to do, and I felt pretty sure it would land Sasha in the shit. She had betrayed a confidence to help ease my suffering and I couldn’t jeopardise that for her. “No, I wanted to give it a go. I didn’t know you’d be here” I tried, but it was pretty unconvincing, my shallow breathing under his forceful heat making me feel more than a little intimidated. If I had any chance of him believing me I had to ‘Smith’ up.

  “I don’t believe you”. I took a deep breath “I don’t give a fuck what you believe King. If I remember correctly you can’t take things forward with me, so why do you care anyway?” His eyes were blazing into mine, so many emotions running through his gorgeous features I couldn’t even begin to guess what he was thinking. “Have you done this before?” I shook my head. “No, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I’ve never summoned up the courage to come before. I decided I had nothing to lose today, being blown out kind of does that to a girl King” I challenged him. “Fine. Just to let you know, that if you have come here for me, you’re wasting your time. I would never introduce someone to this kind of lifestyle” he said with a firmness so unwavering I didn’t doubt for a second that he was telling the truth.

  “It’s not about you, you arrogant conceited prick” I turned and walked to the other end of the patio, not daring to go inside in case I wandered off with Ewan through spite and got myself into all kinds of trouble. I could see the low lights of a twinkling curved blue pool in the distance, and made my way there, leaving King furious on the patio and trying desperately not to cry. I managed until I hit the sun lounger, lowly lit under the blanket of the night and the tears came, hot and soft, covering my cheeks in a relentless stream as I put my head in my hands. What the hell had I done?

  I sat there for an age, trying to calm myself, but knowing I had fucked things up irrevocably with King and made an enormous fool of myself by seeming to chase after him when he’d already told me there was no way forward. I had wanted to try this and at some point in the future I might, with Ewan or someone else, but right now I only wanted King, and I knew he meant every single word he’d just said.

  The jacket came around my shoulders as I shivered in the cool night air and I recognised the woody masculine scent that inflamed my senses and exhaled loudly, wiping my tears away as best I could, as he sat on the
lounger beside me. “I had no right to do that, I’m sorry” he said, sounding as deflated as I felt. “But you really have to be straight with me here Charlotte” he said holding my chin, pulling my wet face to meet his gaze. His anger had evaporated eyes full of tenderness as he studied my face. “Did you come here for me?” The softness of his voice cut through my resolve and I imagined my tears had already betrayed my earlier lie. I nodded simply as he pulled me into him, holding my head and soothing my hair in a gesture that so was affectionate and gentle, the tears started to roll again.

  “I’m sorry Charlotte, I can’t. I really want to, but I can’t bring you into this when you’ve never done it before”. “Why?” I whispered simply as he shook his head. So I was getting no answers. I sighed deeply, asking the snivelling emotional wreck that was currently occupying my being ‘What would Smith do?’ I pulled away, holding his gaze and smiling through the tears. “Because you don’t want me, or because I’ve never done it before?” He cupped my face, kissing my cheek lightly, his mouth was set in a firm line and I knew he was being as open as he could. “Definitely the second one”. I kissed his cheek back, standing up and straightening my dress.

  “Only one thing for it then King. I’m going back inside. Next time you see me, you can guarantee I’ll have done it before. Problem solved”. I pushed my shoulders back and forced my feet forward, knowing myself well enough to recognise the spontaneous, ill thought through behaviour I was displaying, that would wind up landing me in an even bigger mess. I hadn’t even decided whether I was calling his bluff or I was actually going to find the handsome rugby player from earlier, but either way, I was moving ahead with steely resolve. He had a choice to make. As I hit the patio steps, I prayed I would hear his voice, but it never came. I made my way inside and headed straight for the front exit where I got into a waiting cab and cried all the way home.

  I’d made some terrible decisions around King and last night was up there as the worst one yet. He wanted me but wouldn’t or couldn’t introduce me to that lifestyle. The problem was that I wanted to try it now, but I wanted to try it with King. He wouldn’t move forward in the usual fashion and he didn’t do girlfriends. I had to be a totally deluded idiot. The man couldn’t spell it out more clearly. There was only one thing for it. More pitches than I could handle that would leave me mentally drained and too exhausted to think about anything else. And cake I thought, reaching for a slice of lemon Madeira. I was still way too mad at chocolate to even consider it. Sasha called around ten. I hadn’t told King that she was my referee and wasn’t sure if he could find out, but from her happy demeanour, I guessed it hadn’t mattered either way.

  “How did it go?” she smiled down the line, as I recalled the events of the night in glorious detail. “Oh” she sighed simply and it made me laugh, there really was nothing else to be said. “Yep, the Jason King ship has well and truly sailed” I said eventually, as she apologised profusely for putting me in that position. “You didn’t Sash, I’m a big girl and I made that decision all by myself” I said in attempt to appease her and it was true enough. “I actually enjoyed it up to that point. I met a nice guy called Ewan, really tall, Scottish, looks like he’s taken a few knocks” I laughed.

  “Ewan McDowd” professional rugby player and all round awesome fuck apparently” she laughed. “See Sash, not a totally wasted evening. I’ll get King out my system soon enough and then who knows”. As we said our goodbyes I started to wonder just how long it would take to get Jason King out of my system. Another piece of Madeira cake and work, work, work, but how the hell was I going to make an interesting pitch for pre boiled eggs?

  Monday and Tuesday came and went in a blur of sales reports and practice pitches. Anderson still hadn’t realised how close we were in revenue as Mondays sales meeting was cancelled, and the deadline for the Exec of the Year nominations was a week and a half away. I had spoken to Alison, who assured me that all contracts signed by three o’clock on the last day would count. Katie assumed I was still upset at being blown out by King and had absolutely no idea of the disaster that had befallen me on Saturday night, I had given Sasha my word. Her date with Robbie had lasted from lunchtime on Saturday until lunchtime on Sunday and had qualified as ‘the best day of her life so far’ she’d giggled as I listened intently to every detail, so happy for my friend and the model cum would be architect.

  It was fabulous to have a situation involving the opposite sex that didn’t involve me, workplace skulduggery, or a certain gorgeous marketing genius who worked next door, to focus on. Alison called a meeting in the boardroom at five o’clock for an announcement. It would be relating to the advertising awards, as the whole place was awash with gossip about the event and the nominees. The only nominees announced on the night itself were those for Executive of the Year, the others we would find out very, very soon and it was just possible that my boss was about to take my five sugar week to a one sugar week. Even if I was up for everything going, with Jason King torturing my thoughts, a no sugar week was too much to hope for.

  She was grinning broadly as the execs, design teams and creative department filed into the boardroom and I imagined Jason delivering the news to his happy team next door. King Marketing usually won across the board. Aside from the pitches he’d run for himself in the last few months, he generally divided them fairly. It was unusual and one of the reasons his loyal staff were utterly devoted to him. As I gazed at Alison with her cropped platinum hair and pursed red lips, I envied them their stunning view. She was a good enough boss, but she was always miserable I noted, as a frightening fear that I was turning into her crept through me, and I forced a passably good smile as an outward display, just to prove that I wasn’t.

  The creative’s were up for a flurry of TV, Magazine and Billboard awards, all in highly competitive categories and they were buzzing with excitement. Ian Anderson was up for breakthrough campaign award for a new airline company, and I was up for campaign of the year for my dancing turtles as Katie hugged me. She was up for its design. It was a fantastic campaign for a new hatchback and the dancing turtle idea had followed through into big money merchandising and was being recommended as a new cartoon for children’s television.

  Apparently turtles hadn’t been done since the ninja’s and this was aimed at a pre-school audience, and I couldn’t contain my delight. All the other execs, with the notable exception of a bitter Ian Anderson came over to congratulate me, and for the first time in months I felt genuinely happy and elated at work. “We’re celebrating tonight and the drinks are on me” grinned Alison as I went to question her about the other nominees in my category. I was certain of at least one of them, as she confirmed my worst fears.

  I was nervous about the wine bar, but there was no way Katie was letting me get away with it. “These moments are so rare and precious Lotty. There are five execs in this building who would sell their own grandmothers to be where you are now, and hundreds more across the country. You have fought more than most for this, just remember the times with Gregg, the night in the tube station, all the people you grew up with who are in jail, or worse. You need to celebrate this, and you need to do it with the team who helped you to make it happen. We’re all on that stage with you, just like we’ve been with you all the way these last couple of weeks”. My heart sunk. Katie was the only one who knew the about my life before I came here, and she also knew, that my emotional turmoil was clouding my appreciation of just how big a deal this was.

  It was what I had worked towards all my life, against the odds and through the obstacles and she was absolutely right. “Alright, no need to lay the guilt on so thick” I smiled. “I’ll come, but can we hit the treasure trove first?” “Absolutely” she grinned as we ducked out of sight, changing in minutes into the most fabulous outfits from the Tristan Wright pitch that remarkably no one had noticed. A skyscraper pair of heels and I was ready to go, as she looked me over. “You look fucking fabulous and you’re up for ‘campaign of the year’, it doesn’t get an
y better than this” and my returning smile was genuine. She knew I was apprehensive, and she also knew why.

  What she didn’t know is that last time I’d seen him I was crying my heart out on a sun lounger, threatening to be a submissive to a rugby player, just so Jason King would consider fucking me again. God I was ridiculous, the only saving grace was that I hadn’t actually gone ahead and done it.

  I took a deep breath, walking into the wine bar to a huge cheer from the Grayson quarter of the room and I smiled broadly. I knew without looking that the King Marketing contingent were on my left and despite my internal pleas not to, I couldn’t help a glance to see if he was there. I saw him immediately, gazing at me from the bar and throwing me the most dazzling smile that almost knocked me off balance and despite Katie willing me forward, I froze, rooted to the spot with my stomach in knots and my heart in my mouth for what seemed like an eternity. I wasn’t sure I could do this. “Give me a minute Katie” I swallowed hard and turned to make my way out of the door feeling like I’d been hit by a train. A gorgeous train, but a train nevertheless.

  “Are you OK?” she followed as I nodded. “Yeah I just need some air, go and tell them I’ve forgotten something and when Alison’s tab runs out, the champers is on me”. She grinned, rubbing my arm reassuringly as I made my way outside the wine bar, looking across to the little cake shop and cafe, wishing I could swap places. My eyes were already stinging with tears as I leant back across the wall, closing them and breathing deeply, trying to swallow them back. I could imagine Ian Anderson’s reaction if he saw me crying, ‘stupid emotional women’ or some such. I hated anyone seeing me like this, particularly at work and especially on a day that should be one of the happiest of my professional career.