3

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 trusting myself to speak confidently.

“Follow me please.”

I trailed behind her, finding it impossible not to watch her perfectly round bottom swaying as she walked. She reached a large glass room, the blinds drawn. As she rapped her knuckles on the door, I noticed a placard upon it. It was his office. The same deep voice from yesterday sounded from the room, granting access.

The woman pushed open the door. “A Miss Woods to see you, Sir.”

He must have given her a cue, because she stood aside and gestured for me to enter the room. I attempted to take small shallow breaths, reminding myself I needed to be as confident as I could muster.

The office was enormous, acting more like a living room than a work space. I realised it was probably four times the size of my room at halls. It had two large plush black sofas with a white oval coffee table between them. A huge flat screen was mounted onto the wall, and a well-stocked drinks cabinet stood on the far wall. The different coloured liquids twinkled in the sunlight, and I was briefly distracted.  My attention was recaptured by his voice.

“Come in Miss Woods.”

On the other side of the room, sitting behind an impressive onyx desk with a white marble top, was Ezra Stone. He was looking at me with a hint of amusement, lip ever so slightly curled upwards. I could feel him taking in my appearance, and I buckled a little under his gaze. He was dressed very similarly to how he had been yesterday. The suit possibly a lighter shade of grey.

He stood and extended his hand, I stared at it dumbly, before remembering what a handshake was. As our skin met, an unwavering bolt shoot through me. His skin was soft and warm, the sensation of our touch making something foreign stir within me. I held my breath as his grip around my hand tightened a little more. He held my hand for what I felt was a moment too long. When I looked up, his eyes were watching my reaction with interest.

He let go, and I found myself both relieved and upset that our contact had ended.

“Please, have a seat.”

I did as I was asked, precariously balancing on the edge of a white chair.

“Thank you for coming in. It is so rare that we get students as…” He took a deep breath in, and I noticed how his powerful chest grew even bigger. “…vocal about our possible faults as you were. I couldn’t not have a conversation with you.”

I struggled to work out if what he was saying was a compliment or a rebuke. His ice-cold tone could indicate either.

“I apologise if I caused any offence.” I offered tentatively. “It was stupid of me to question something given my lack of experience.” The self-deprecation was evident in my voice. Maybe he would realise I was just a silly girl and send me home. Part of me hoped for that outcome.

He regarded me with interest, placing his long fingers together at the tips. “There is no need to apologise Miss Woods. Lack of experience doesn’t always mean you’re bad at something. People can have a natural intuition. A natural…talent.”

The way his eyes twinkled made me wonder if he was still talking about marketing. Surely, he couldn’t know I was a virgin? No, of course not. I was being ridiculous. Fucking Vanessa had got into my head with all her virginity talk yesterday.

I remained silent, not too sure what I should say next.

He rose out of his chair and made his way over to study the incredible view of the city skyline. He placed his hands in his trouser pockets, and the action made the material around his ass tighten. It was a nice ass.

“You know, it takes a lot of confidence to speak up like that.” He turned round to face me, and cocked his head to the side. “And yet. You don’t really seem the confident type.”

I felt my heart hammer in my chest. This wasn’t going well. “Er…I…” I let out a breath. What was the point in lying now? He’d sussed me out within five minutes. “No, I’m not usually. Truthfully, I’m not sure what came over me yesterday.”

He walked over to me, and I wondered what he was going to do next. I watched with relief as he leaned against his desk a few feet away. His eyes bore into mine, and I felt as if he was able to know exactly what I thinking.

“Would you like to be confident Miss Woods?” He said it so quietly, it was almost a whisper. It somehow made the question more…intimate.

I fidgeted nervously in my seat. “I guess so.”

More silence. What was with this guy? Was this his personality or did he just enjoy making people feel uncomfortable?

“Well Miss Woods, I think there is a confidence in you that needs to be brought out. I’m sure you’re aware that we offer an internship here. I would like to offer it to you. You can do it alongside your studies.”

My mouth hung open a little, and I shut it quickly before I did a great impression of a goldfish.

“Thank you.” I managed.

“Of course. Talk to Greta, the lady who showed you in. She will be able to give you all the details.”

Sensing I was being dismissed, I rose out of my chair and moved towards the door. I had to concentrate very hard not to trip, because for some reason my legs felt like they had turned to jelly. As I put my hand on the door knob to open it, he called out to me.

“Oh and, Miss Woods. As we are a marketing company, image is everything. I suggest you buy some new clothes before starting here.”

My stomach sank, and my cheeks grew hot. Barely audible and unable to meet his eye, I confessed my situation.

“Sir, I am sorry but my student loan barely covers my rent. I have no financial support from home. I cannot budget for clothes.”

There was a silence, and I didn’t dare look up. “If that means you cannot offer me the position, I under…”

“That is a situation that can easily be remedied.” I flicked my eyes upwards to meet his.

“Please give Greta your banking information. I will arrange for funds to be transferred so that you can fit yourself out with a new wardrobe.” He said it so casually, I wondered if I had heard correctly.

“Mr Stone, you really don…”

He cut me off again. “It is decided Miss Woods. Now I am a busy man. Please do as I have asked and give Greta your details.” He went back to sitting at his desk, turning to the screen and ignoring me.

I guess that really was my cue to leave.

After writing down my details under the critical watch of Greta, I exited the building as quickly as possible. I needed to try and process what had just happened. Selecting the nearest bench, I sat down heavily and thought about what this could mean.

On one hand, many of my peers would kill for an opportunity like this. Imagine being able to put Stone Marketing on my resume? Once I left university, I may even be able to secure a permanent position there. At the very least, if I was able to impress them, I would have an excellent reference for any prospective jobs.

But I couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth it. Mr Stone unnerved me a little. He did not seem like a kind man, despite the offer of money for new clothes. Also, it wasn’t normal for companies to provide interns with a clothing budget? Was it? What if this was some grand scheme to embarrass me after I picked fault with one of the ads?

My phone buzzed. It was a notification from my bank about a deposit. Surely it hadn’t been done that quickly? Having said that, who else was going to send me money?

I opened up the banking app and checked my balance. I nearly dropped my phone. This had to be a mistake. There was no chance Mr Stone had intended to give me £1000.