the reason I couldn’t sleep is due to the handsome man with grey eyes. I can’t understand what is wrong with me. I mean, there are millions of men walking around, why is this one getting me all bothered? Why are his piercing grey eyes consuming my thoughts? Why can I still remember the way he held me in the park? The way his upper pointed lip looked so inviting. I can’t, no I won’t allow a person who I will never see again turn me into this stupid person.
Monday morning, I take the circle line of the Tube to my station and walk the short way to the Harding building. As always, it’s a normal busy morning. I drop files off to all the relevant persons and even write up a report for a member of our finance department who is better qualified, but seems to think I am just as good. This is how I have managed to learn as much of the business as I have, doing things I’m probably not trained to do, but everyone gets me to do anyway. After my lunch break I receive an email asking me to forward a stack of reports to Mr. Harding’s email address. I begin to do what was asked of me and as the afternoon goes on I can tell the atmosphere on the top floor of The Harding building is electric. Everyone seems so excited yet daunted by the prospect that one of the big bosses is here. By the end of the normal working day as everyone else begins to leave no-one has even met him yet. As I carry on with my work it makes me laugh how everyone is getting carried away over one guy.
I don’t finish my work till just after eight. As the last document is sent to Mr. Harding’s email and as I pass his office I can see that his light is still on. It seems that I am not the only one that will work after hours.
The week carries on as any other would have, except for the constant chatter of the man from America.
“What does he look like?”
“Will he want to change anything?”
“What will he change?”
“How old is he and how will he sound?”
“What does he look like?” That is all anyone seems to be interested in and from what I can gather no-one has seen him, not even the managers have by close of business Friday afternoon. The man is an enigma, haunting the halls of our building into a weathering mess of female emotions that aren’t giving up till they see the man in question. I, on the other hand, really can’t care less; as long as I can carry on with my little plan, then I will be happy. Why do people get so carried away with the opposite sex? Nothing good ever happens from it. I definitely won’t succumb to a male, especially a tall man with beautiful grey eyes.
As always, I come up with a job that needs doing on Saturday morning and so is how I spend my day off until I have to go to my second job at the bar.
The atmosphere yet again is electric, but I can’t pinpoint why I feel so uneasy, how I feel like I am being seen for the first time naked and on show for a person to view like I am an animal in her cage. I have worked here since I moved to London and even in the stupid outfit that is my uniform I have never once felt the way I am feeling tonight. As I look around at all the punters nearby I notice that none are looking at me, so why am I feeling like this? It doesn’t make any sense. Perhaps I am coming down with something. That would be just my luck. It must be two hours before closing when Amber comes up to me in a complete fuss acting way out of character.
“You’re needed upstairs. A punter wants a private meeting with you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
GRACE
My blood turns cold as I watch Amber’s face light up with the hope that she could be asked for such a meeting. I, on the other hand, can feel the bile begin to rise at the back of my throat at the fear of being in a room with a man on my own. I presume it is a man and that makes me feel instantly worse.
“What?”
“Oh, for
Monday morning, I take the circle line of the Tube to my station and walk the short way to the Harding building. As always, it’s a normal busy morning. I drop files off to all the relevant persons and even write up a report for a member of our finance department who is better qualified, but seems to think I am just as good. This is how I have managed to learn as much of the business as I have, doing things I’m probably not trained to do, but everyone gets me to do anyway. After my lunch break I receive an email asking me to forward a stack of reports to Mr. Harding’s email address. I begin to do what was asked of me and as the afternoon goes on I can tell the atmosphere on the top floor of The Harding building is electric. Everyone seems so excited yet daunted by the prospect that one of the big bosses is here. By the end of the normal working day as everyone else begins to leave no-one has even met him yet. As I carry on with my work it makes me laugh how everyone is getting carried away over one guy.
I don’t finish my work till just after eight. As the last document is sent to Mr. Harding’s email and as I pass his office I can see that his light is still on. It seems that I am not the only one that will work after hours.
The week carries on as any other would have, except for the constant chatter of the man from America.
“What does he look like?”
“Will he want to change anything?”
“What will he change?”
“How old is he and how will he sound?”
“What does he look like?” That is all anyone seems to be interested in and from what I can gather no-one has seen him, not even the managers have by close of business Friday afternoon. The man is an enigma, haunting the halls of our building into a weathering mess of female emotions that aren’t giving up till they see the man in question. I, on the other hand, really can’t care less; as long as I can carry on with my little plan, then I will be happy. Why do people get so carried away with the opposite sex? Nothing good ever happens from it. I definitely won’t succumb to a male, especially a tall man with beautiful grey eyes.
As always, I come up with a job that needs doing on Saturday morning and so is how I spend my day off until I have to go to my second job at the bar.
The atmosphere yet again is electric, but I can’t pinpoint why I feel so uneasy, how I feel like I am being seen for the first time naked and on show for a person to view like I am an animal in her cage. I have worked here since I moved to London and even in the stupid outfit that is my uniform I have never once felt the way I am feeling tonight. As I look around at all the punters nearby I notice that none are looking at me, so why am I feeling like this? It doesn’t make any sense. Perhaps I am coming down with something. That would be just my luck. It must be two hours before closing when Amber comes up to me in a complete fuss acting way out of character.
“You’re needed upstairs. A punter wants a private meeting with you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
GRACE
My blood turns cold as I watch Amber’s face light up with the hope that she could be asked for such a meeting. I, on the other hand, can feel the bile begin to rise at the back of my throat at the fear of being in a room with a man on my own. I presume it is a man and that makes me feel instantly worse.
“What?”
“Oh, for
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