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Pen Your Pride

*****THIS IS NOT THE FULL STORY. THE ASSISTANT HAS BEEN PUBLISHED. This is just a draft version that ends at chapter 19. That being said, I hope you enjoy it :)*****

Prologue –

He was tall.

About 6’1’’, towering over my 5’6’’ height and making me feel shorter than I usually did.

I watched as another female walked out of his office, looking flustered and flushed in embarrassment as she readjusted her business skirt.

“Ms Johnson?” An old lady wearing a pink plaid jacket called out, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she scanned the waiting area.

I stood up at the sound of my surname and greeted her with a nervous nod and a smile that turned out like a grimace. “This way please.” The lady said, escorting me into the office that nine other girls had previously entered before me.

I clutched onto the folder that contained my skills and qualifications tightly; I had worked all week to perfect it – just for this job.

“Thank you.” I muttered as she gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before exiting the room quietly and shutting the door behind her with a soft ‘thud’.

I let out a nervous sigh before turning around to meet the man I’d seen all over billboards, the internet and magazines for the first time in person.

“Name.” He stated, a deep British accent lacing his blunt word.

I cleared my throat and wiped my sweaty palms on my grey pencil skirt. “Hello. My name is Emily Johnson.” I said, smiling nervously at the authority figure that was seated in a large leather chair behind a desk that almost took up the entire length of his office, and was made of dark polished marble.

He didn’t glance in my direction as I walked forward and placed my resume on his desk with shaky hands.

“Take a seat.” He muttered, still staring intently at his computer screen.

I nodded, even though I knew he wasn’t going to be paying attention to the gesture. “Thank you.” I took a seat in one of the navy coloured leather chairs that were placed in front of his desk, and gripped the arm of the chair with such force that I watched my knuckles turn white.

A few silent moments passed before his hazel green eyes flickered in my direction briefly, and then did a double take.

I felt my eyes widen slightly and I visibly swallowed from nervousness. Was I not wearing the correct clothing? Did he recognise me from somewhere? The nerves creating the knot in my stomach became stronger, and I felt the knot begin to expand.

“Ms Johnson, was it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as his gaze slowly scanned my attire before coming back to meet my eyes.

I gulped and nodded, causing him to smirk and get out of his seat.

“I- I have a resume…” I trailed off; pointing at the folder I had so painstakingly spent days on. He wasn’t paying attention to that. instead, he walked over to where I was sitting; until he stood directly in front of me.

“Get up.” His tone was commanding, and I felt my body jerk out of the seat before my brain could process what was happening.

Looking at him in closer now, I saw that the magazines and pictures I had seen him in did not do him justice.

Who was he, exactly? He was Adrian Kingston, 25-year-old-billionare-playboy who owns Kingston Corp. The company his father spent 23 years trying to succeed with; and now has over 350 hotels and offices in New York City alone. I knew this because I had done my research before arriving to this job interview – to become his assistant in the Head Office of the Cooperation.

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