The crimson colour of embarrassment was still evident on my cheeks as we made our way out of the building.
“Can you believe she didn’t recognise Ezra Stone?! Does she live under a rock?” Emma’s remark was said in a whisper, but a very loud one. I was pretty sure she knew I could hear her.
Her partner in crime Tiffany laughed. “I know right. I don’t even know why he’s asked her to meet him.”
“Maybe to give her some fashion tips.” Emma quipped. They promptly burst into hysterical giggles.
I tried to ignore it. I really did. But I knew their words were going to play over in my head later.
Neil held up his hand for quiet. “Right…well I suppose we should congratulate Rosie on Mr. Stone’s invitation.” Even he looked confused. Limp applause followed, barely audible for more than a few moments. “I would like 1000 words on what you have learnt from today’s experience, due in a week. Okay, off you go.”
I took myself off as fast as my feet could carry me. There was no way I wanted to be with these people for a second longer.
I chided myself all the way back to my room. Why on earth had I made a spectacle out of myself? I never usually spoke up like that, so what possessed me to do it now? Another thought came to me. What was I going to wear tomorrow? I’d already worn the best I had. Surely, I couldn’t go in the same thing tomorrow. Emma’s comment about my fashion sense rang through my ears, and I suddenly felt even more self-conscious than I already was. Something I never thought possible.
I decided to take a detour back to my flat, and head to a couple of charity shops to see if I could find anything that would be suitable. I couldn’t afford to buy anything new.
Of course, charity shops were still more expensive in London. Back in Devon I could buy a hoodie in the Cancer Research shop for £1. There was no chance of that here. They even looked different inside, arranged more like vintage boutique shops.
I stepped into the Oxfam and flicked down the rack, realising this was going to be too expensive. Not one item was under £15. That was the majority of my food budget for a week.
I moved to the Lighthouse shop next door finding their prices a little more reasonable. In the end I selected a pair of black trousers and a white shirt. I would have to wear my Doc Martins with it. Handing over £10 to the shop assistant, I hurriedly made my way home to do some research on Ezra Stone. I needed to know the beast I was dealing with.
After hanging up my new clothes, well, new to me anyway, I opened up my laptop. I tapped his name into the search bar and waited for the results to appear. The first few links were about Stone Marketing, and their company website and social media platforms. However, one article caught my eye. It was an expose on Mr Stone. I scanned the content of the article, learning several things.
Mr stone was 34. He had inherited the company after his father had died a few years ago. He was unmarried and without children. During his spare time, he liked to go riding. He liked to work hard, and play hard. The article mentioned numerous exclusive clubs he attends within the city, and his appreciation of beautiful women. I rolled my eyes at the last comment. That was hardly a surprise. Then my gaze landed on his net worth. £4.8 billion.
I stared at the figure. What did you even do with £4.8 billion? I looked over at the slightly crumpled shirt and trousers I’d bought. I’d definitely buy better clothes to begin with
I decided to do an image search next. The page was flooded with both professional and paparazzi photographs of Mr Stone in various different expensive suits. In fact, he was not wearing anything casual in a single picture. A lot of the paparazzi photos were of him and a selection of different women. Each more stunning than the last. I noted they all looked like models. He was clearly a bit of a playboy. Maybe that was why he had selected me for the internship. There was no way he would be tempted to bed me.
The sound of my phone ringing startled me from my musing, and I shut the laptop feeling almost ashamed of where my thoughts had wandered to. I answered the phone without checking who it was.
“Hello?” I said, absentmindedly.
“Hi, are you busy tonight?” A female voice questioned from the other end of the line.
Confused I asked, “Sorry, who is this?”
A brief pause. “It’s Vanessa you idiot.”
I shook myself out of my daze. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Clearly.” Vanessa’s disapproval was evident from her tone.
Vanessa was my one and only friend in London. We had met at a university mixer organised by every institution in the city. Our clear lack of fashion sense had drawn us together, most other people around us dressed impeccably in evening wear. She was studying to be a vet at the Royal Veterinary School. I liked Vanessa a great deal, but she had a sharp tongue at times.
“Anyway, tonight?” She prompted.
I hesitated. I should probably look up more about Stone Marketing, but I would probably only end up looking up useless facts about Mr Stone.
“Sure. I don’t have enough money to go out though. Can we do a few beers at yours?”
“Yeah, alright then. Come over at 7pm.”
She ended the call. Maybe she would have some advice on how to deal with tomorrow. Vanessa was far more confident than me.
That night I made my way over to Vanessa’s accommodation. She had a studio in a much nicer complex. She came from a family of vets, so they were able to help pay her rent. It was partly why I always suggested going to hers. If she came to mine, we were squished onto my single bed with very little leg room.
She opened the door to me and took the six-pack of cheap lager from my hands.
“Come in. I’m just finishing up a surgery video.”
“Grim.” I commented.
She rolled her eyes and gestured for me to get a drink. Flicking the cap off one of the beers with an expert wrist action, I took a long sip and waited for her on the sofa. I had no desire to go over to her desk where she was making notes on some animal undergoing an operation.
Vanessa finished up and walked over to the kitchenette to grab one of the beers. Not for the first time I envied her slim physique. Vanessa was beautiful without trying. Her dark chocolate skin was completely flawless, unlike my pale complexion that flushed red at the slightest temperature change. She kept her curly hair short, which allowed the stunning angles of her face to shine. Her large dark eyes looked disapprovingly at the cheap beer I’d bought.
“I know you don’t splash out, but this is even crapper than the stuff you normally bring.” She made a face, but still took a large swig.
“Sorry. I had to buy clothes today.”
She looked at me as if I was an alien. “Clothes? Why.”
I sighed, and I explained what had happened earlier that day.
Vanessa immediately looked Mr Stone up, unapologetically wanting to know what all the fuss was about.
She raised her eyebrows. “Well, he looks like a d**k.”
I laughed. “I suppose most people are when they look like that.”
Her head spun quickly around. “You fancy him? Don’t you?”
The red in my cheeks instantly gave me away. “No,” I lied.
“Very convincing Rosie. You might want to work on that though.”
I hit her arm playfully. “Shut up. You know what I’m like around men. It’s a disaster zone.”
Taking another sip of her drink she shook her head. “All you need to do is give up that precious virginity you’re holding onto. As soon as you bang someone, you’ll be able to handle it.”
I hated it when she mentioned the virgin thing. “You know my reasons.” I mumbled, staring down at my brown bottle.
“Yep. Shit ones.” She reclined back into the sofa.
I wish I could be more like Vanessa. If she wanted something she just went out into the world and got it. I was different. Being 18 and a virgin in London was rare. I knew that. I just didn’t want to lose it to someone I didn’t care about.
Vanessa tapped on a picture of him. “He looks like enough of a bastard to take it for you. Maybe you should ask him.”
I decided not to answer. There was no chance Mr Stone would be interested in someone like me.
My stomach was continuously flipping over, and I kept wringing my sweaty hands together. I felt so out of place in this building. I looked it too. My charity shop outfit stuck out like a sore thumb against the designer suits that everyone appeared to be wearing. It was a little baggy on me, but that’s how I liked my clothes. Anything to hide what was underneath. The waiting area I was in was the same monochromatic theme, and I perched on a particularly uncomfortable black bench. The walls were lined with large geometric art work. I tried not to look at it too closely. It was making me feel even sicker than I already was. I’d arrived earlier than 8am, the command to not be late ringing in my ears. Now I was regretting it slightly, because I could feel my bum going numb. A woman approached me, a cream skirt suit showing off her barbie doll figure. A thin red lipstick smile directed at me. “Miss Woods?” She asked curtly. I nodded, not trust
I was due to start at Stone Marketing on Wednesday. It was currently Monday and I’d put the whole business of clothes shopping off until now.In the afternoon, after my lectures, I headed to a place I very rarely entered. A department store. Vanessa had insisted on meeting me, although seeing as we both dressed terribly, I had no idea what help she was going to be.I hadn’t told her where I’d got the money from either. Instead making up some story about my mum lending me the funds. I knew if I told her the truth, she’d speculate about the meaning behind it. I’d decided, there was none. When you were worth £4.8 billion a year, £1000 was practically change.I spotted her leaning against the wall outside, lazily sucking on the straw of her smoothie. Glancing at me, she grinned. Grinning was an unusual act for Vanessa, and I suddenly clicked why she&rsqu
Wednesday arrived. The whirlwind of emotions that swept through me left me feeling a little dizzy. I still wasn’t sure if this was really the right decision, but I reasoned with myself that I could just quit if it was terrible. I could even offer to pay back Mr Stone for the clothes. According to the email I got, I was to report to the social media department at 9 am. I would spend a few weeks there before moving around the different departments. I was actually quite pleased about this. It would provide me with a good varied experience and may give me an insight into what area of marketing I would eventually like to work in. After I got over my initial nerves, I actually really enjoyed my morning. My mentor Louise was very friendly, and not at all like Mellissa or Greta. She was still well-dressed, but she was much more down to earth. She taught me about the different algorithms of each social media platform and explained that in a week or so I could help her create
Unsurprisingly, I didn’t get very far. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually run, and my body couldn’t either. It wasn’t long before my lungs were burning and my legs were aching. It didn’t help that I was also having to weave in and out of the crowd of people still shopping. People looked at me as if I was mad. They were probably right, but I didn’t care. I had to get myself out of this situation and fast. My escape came to an abrupt halt as soon as I felt a strong hand take hold of my shoulder. I began to topple, but he caught me, pulling me towards him. “Stop Rosie.” His breath was hot against my ear. A shiver ran down my spine when he used my first name. He hadn’t done that before. It had always been ‘Miss Woods’. Panting, I had no choice but to relax against him. His arms still had me locked into his front, and I found it strangely comforting. It was as if he was holding me in place to stop me from falling apart. The way he held me in place
During lectures the next few days, Neil had attempted to engage me in conversation about how my first day at Stone Marketing had gone. Having no wish to relive the mortifying experience, I attempted to keep my answers as short as possible.On Friday afternoon, he gave it one last attempt. “So, Rosie, are you going to fill us in one what it was like. It would be beneficial for you to share your experience with the other students.”I shifted awkwardly in my chair. “Er, well it was only my first day. Most of it was just induction stuff.”Emma caught onto my discomfort, and decided to pray upon it. “Did you meet Mr Stone again Rosie? Now that you know who he is of course?”Some of the other students smirked.Anger ran through me. “Yes, I did.” I snapped without thinking. I soon realised my mistake.
I couldn’t quite believe I was back in his car again. Although this time, it was a different car. The only reason I knew it was a Porche was because I took notice of the logo. Mr Stone had hardly said a thing since I’d got into the car. I wondered if he enjoyed making people feel uncomfortable or if it was unintentional.I hadn’t even bothered to try and make too much extra effort in terms of my outfit. After all, he disapproved of my appearance whether I tried or not. I looked down at my jeans and hoodie and hoped that we weren’t going anywhere nice. I looked at him from the corner of my eye. I was relived to find he wasn’t wearing a suit, although he was still smarter than I could ever hope to be. His dark grey chinos clung to his muscular legs and a crisp white shirt was tucked into his waist band. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, and I enjoyed watching the muscles in his forearm tense and rel
After Mr Stone’s shocking proposal, I had left his apartment without saying a word. He had not bothered to chase me, which meant that I was left to my own devices trying to find my way out of the ridiculous building. When I had finally found my way to the exit, I had earned a scrutinising glance from the concierge. I felt like shouting at him, “yes I know I look like I don’t belong here! Just like everywhere else that arrogant arse has taken me!” As I sat on the tube home, I tried to regain my composure. I couldn’t believe Mr Stone had propositioned me like that. I hated to admit it, but Emma had been right. He was a womaniser. He clearly took every opportunity he could to corrupt and bed women, and he obviously wasn’t that picky. The worst part about it was that he had got into my head. Against my will, I began to imagine what it would be like for him to touch me. I felt myself getting hot at the thought, and instantly scolded myself for being so ridiculous. I c
I was back in the waiting area for Mr Stone’s office. Except this time, I was 100 times more nervous than I was before. If that was even possible.When I’d called Mr Stone on Monday evening, he hadn’t even seemed surprised that I had got back in touch with him. That annoyed me. It was as if he knew I was going to change my mind and accept. However, I had resolved to something. I was not, under any circumstances, going to let him use me. This was all about me. I would be using him. I wanted to become more confident, and then walk out of his life without looking back. There wasn’t going to be anything personal about this.I was glad he’d asked me back to his office. It made it feel more like a business deal. I was essentially acquiring a service. Of course, I continued to tell myself these things over and over again, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t any less terrified. My heel tapped nervously a