“Why is that?”
“Because you’re a very bad host, Kathryn.”
A trace of a smile crosses her face. “Are you high?”
“What?” I snap. “Of course I’m not fucking high.”
“Okay . . .”
I inhale deeply as I try to think of something to rectify this fuckup of a conversation. “I’m leaving,” I announce.
She smirks. “Okay . . .”
“Is that all you can say today . . . okay?”
She narrows her eyes. “Mr. Miles.”
“Elliot,” I correct her.
“Elliot, are you feeling alright?”
“I was until I visited you.” I exhale heavily. “Now you’ve completely ruined my day.”
She smiles as she puts her hand over her chest. “There he is, oh thank God, I thought I was going to have to call a doctor.”
I glare at her. “Goodbye, Kathryn.”
She smiles sweetly and waves with her fingertips. “Goodbye, have a nice day, my favorite boss ever.”
“Don’t patronize me,” I snap.
She turns back to her computer. “Just being a good office host. How am I doing?”
“Failing miserably.” I march out of her office and back to the elevator.
I push the button with force and clench my jaw as I try to think of a reasonable excuse as to why I came down here.
Nope . . .
I’ve got nothing.
The woman’s a bona fide bitch.
KATE
I walk out of the front doors of my building an hour later to see Daniel’s big smile: he’s leaning against his parked car on the other side of the road.
I smile and wave and make my way over to him across one of the busiest streets in London. “How did you find a parking space here?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” He winks. “I thought we could go shopping for a little bit.” He throws his arm over my shoulders as we stroll along.
“Shopping?” I screw up my face. “Ugh, I don’t want to go shopping, I can think of nothing worse. I’ll meet you at home.”
“Well . . .” He pauses as if getting the wording right in his head. “You know how I told you that I got invited to that function on Thursday night and I asked you to come with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I asked some questions and I’ve just been sent the guest list.”
“So?”
“Every potential client in the entire world will be in that ballroom.”
I screw up my face again. “Will you speak English, what the hell are you talking about?”
“You need to look fucking incredible.”
“Me?” I scoff as I point to my chest. “Why me?”
“Because everyone will know that I styled you.”
I stop on the spot. “I’m not being your walking billboard, Daniel,” I snap. “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to go anymore, take Rebecca instead. She can be your mannequin.”
“No. I need you.” He links his arm through mine and drags me along. “You have the look that I need and I know exactly what I’m doing with you. And don’t worry, I’m footing the entire bill.”
“Why would you offer to pay?”
“Well, I’m returning everything on Friday. Don’t get excited, I’m not that nice.”
“Isn’t that, I don’t know . . . a crime?” My eyes widen in exasperation.
“Only a little bit, and if you ruin anything, I’ll kill you. Oh, and I’ve booked you in for a hair and makeup appointment.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” I cry.
He runs his fingers over the top of my head and over the neat bun nestled tightly in the back. “Nothing . . . if you were ninety.”
I roll my eyes as he drags me along.
“First stop, Givenchy.” He smiles happily.
“Are you crazy?” I gasp. “You can’t afford Givenchy.”
“Oh, shut up already.” He scoffs as he pulls me up the front steps of the swanky building. “I’m faking it till I make it, and if you’re with me, so are you.”
I look down at myself and throw my hands up in the air in surrender. “I look like a damn Christmas bauble.”
Daniel on bended knee with a pin sticking out of his mouth. He sticks his hand up the bottom of my dress and fiddles with the hem. “Nothing about this outfit says Christmas.” He huffs. “Name one thing that’s Christmassy.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I glance up at my reflection in the mirror. “Maybe the painted nails, or the big red lips, perhaps the gold string stilettos . . . oh wait, what about the blazing bright gold fucking strapless dress.”
“You look awesome, Kate, just admit it.” Rebecca smiles dreamily as she lies on the carpeted floor.
I nervously glance up at myself in the mirror again and brush my hands over my hips. “But I don’t look like me.”
“That’s the point,” Daniel says as he stands and fluffs my hair. “Your hair is incredible at this length.”
“I love the blonde highlights too,” Beck chimes in. “How much did he cut off?”
“Four inches. It was way too long; did you wear it up every day?” Daniel asks.