6

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 with his arms, willing me to breathe through whispers was like nothing I had ever experienced. Eventually, when he was satisfied I wasn’t going to sprint off again, he let go. I was almost sad when he did.

I turned to face him, embarrassment now flooding me as the gravity of my ridiculous behaviour sunk in. What was I thinking? Mr Stone was trying to do something generous, and here I was acting like a child.

I bowed my head in shame, unable to meet his eyes.

“Hmm.” I heard him say. “Miss Woods, perhaps you would like to tell me what that was all about?”

I bit down on my lip, cowering at the cold tone in his voice. We were back to ‘Miss Woods’ now.

When I didn’t respond, I heard him sigh heavily. “This way Miss Woods. I think we both need a drink.”

I glanced up to find him gesturing to the exit. I followed him sheepishly, unable to say anything despite how rude I knew I was being.

Before I knew it, Mr Stone was leading me into some sort of fancy bar. Why did it always have to be so bloody fancy? Couldn’t we have gone to some grotty pub that wouldn’t have put me on edge?

The bar was frequented by people that looked a lot like Mr Stone, and nothing like me. Mr Stone pulled out one of the leather seats and motioned for me to sit down. As someone approached us, I realised it was table service.

The smart-looking man in a crisp white shirt inclined his head. “Welcome to Clinks. What may I get you?”

Without missing a beat, Mr Stone gave his order. “A glass of the Valentini.” He hadn’t even looked at a menu.

They both looked at me and I realised they were waiting for my order. My mouth opened and remained that way while I tried to make words come out. “Errr.” I looked around for some kind of inspiration. It didn’t look like the kind of place I could ask for a beer.

“She will have the same as me.” Mr Stone quirked his eyebrow at me as the server walked away.

He proceeded to watch me and say nothing. I fidgeted under his gaze, not knowing what he was thinking.

It felt like forever until our drinks arrived, but when they did, I was grateful for the distraction. The server placed a glass of white wine down in front of us both. I fought the urge to wrinkle my nose. I was not a wine person. However, at least I knew it would be alcoholic. I took a large sip, pleasantly surprised it wasn’t as vinegar like as most wines I’d tasted. I assumed this was a lot more expensive though.

Finally, Mr Stone began to talk. “I would like you to tell me what that was about.”

I flinched. What was I supposed to say? That I had so little confidence, I couldn’t even face the prospect of trying new clothes on or having my hair cut? I’d just sound like a loser. Losers didn’t work at Stone Marketing.

“I won’t ask again Miss Woods,” he prompted.

I took another big gulp of the wine, wanting it to help me loosen my tongue. “I just…I don’t like being the centre of attention.”

I had hoped my weak response was enough to placate him. It wasn’t.

“Right. And why is that?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, still unwilling to meet his eyes. “I don’t have much confidence, Mr Stone. What you saw the other day, me speaking out I mean…it was out of character. I’m sorry if you’ve wasted the internship on me.”

Silence followed, so I continued to drink. Thankful I at least had something to do with my hands.

“Look at me, Miss Woods.”

I glimpsed at him from under my lashes. His expression was unreadable.

“You are still not telling me the reason for your lack of confidence. If I know the reason, I may be able to help.”

I shook my head. “I appreciate the offer Mr Stone, but it can’t be helped. Some people are introverts. I’m one of them.”

A flicker of frustration crossed his face. “I will decide whether or not I can help. Now I am demanding a clear answer from you.”

I clenched my fists. Why did he need to know this? It was my own personal business he had no right to demand this out of me. And yet, I wanted to know what he meant by help. Was there a small chance he could fix me? The wine had obviously begun to work because suddenly I was blurting out everything. “I hate myself, Mr Stone. Okay? I hate the way I act. I hate the way I look. I hate the fact I will never be the person I want to be. I just…” During my rant, my breathing had quickened. I realised what I had just done, and I clamped my mouth shut.

Mr Stone took a sip of his own drink, still studying me with his eyes. He gently placed the glass back on the table. “Thank you for telling me that Miss Woods. Was it your lack of self-esteem that prevented you from going through with the fitting today?”

I nodded.

“Do you not think you deserve nice clothes?” I watched as he ran his finger over the base of the glass.

I gulped, something about the action made me feel strange. “They just aren’t me Mr Stone…the shop you took me to…I doubt they would have had anything for me.”

He quirked his eyebrow again. “Of course they had items for you. It was why I took you there.”

I realised he wasn’t getting it. I cringed knowing I was going to have to spell it out. “I mean…they probably wouldn’t have any anything that would have fitted me,” I remembered the pictures of him with various beautiful women hanging off his arm. “No offence Mr Stone, but I don’t think you’ve had the experience of dealing with someone like me.”

He furrowed his brow. “And what do you mean by that?”

I chastised myself for making the comment. “I just mean…from what your media appearances show, you’re used to dealing with women that look like you know…models.”

He began to chuckle. Before I could stop myself, I was looking at him with annoyance.

Noticing my expression he narrowed his eyes. I quickly dropped my expression. “I take it you Googled me the other day? Seeing as you didn’t even know who I was when we first met.”

I buckled with embarrassment. How could I have been so stupid to let that slip? Now he would think I was stalking him.

At that point, the server arrived back at the table. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

Mr Stone shook his head. “No thank you, just the bill.”

Part of me was relieved that this interrogation was over, but another part of me was strangely upset.

The server arrived promptly with the bill, and Mr Stone swiped his car over the reader. I dreaded to think what two glasses of wine would have cost.

As we exited the bar I apologised again for the running off incident. I was surprised to see that the corner of his mouth turned upwards.

“Not at all, Miss Woods. It certainly made my afternoon livelier. Now, I have to get back to the office. I will drive you home first.”

I attempted to protest, but he would not accept my offer to get public transport. There was something about his tone that told me I shouldn’t argue.

The journey was spent in yet more silence, although I accepted that it was better than all the difficult questions I had been asked.

When we reached my building, Mr Stone looked at the depressing concrete structure with distaste but did not comment.

“I will be in touch, Miss Woods.”

“Okay,” I uttered quietly.

I hastily clambered out of the car and walked up to the entrance. I wondered if he had any intention of contacting me. I wouldn’t be surprised if I simply got a message telling me I no longer had the internship.

I looked back to see his car disappear around the corner. Maybe that would be the last time I would see him.