Chapter 3

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. A 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 dick.”

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.