Chapter 2 - False identity & fear

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I awkwardly pulled down the hem of my dark red dress as I climbed out of the cab, handing the driver a few bills. I clutched my coffee tightly, staring up at the huge building in front of me. It was a tall skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan, with Styles Enterprises plastered across the top in classy letters.

I timidly walked inside. I was wearing a deep red, fitted Valentino dress and black Louboutins. Jace and I had searched the stock closet for photo shoots downstairs at the office for the perfect outfit. The dress was last season and not likely tonne missed, the shoes a size six that had never been worn. I'd return them as soon as I was done.

Everything I wore was way more than I could afford. And it felt awesome. I approached the reception desk where a gorgeous young blonde was tapping away at her computer.

"Can I help you?" She questioned, not looking up.

"Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Styles."

She let out a small laugh. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Well, no, but I just-"

"Then you can see Mr. Styles in about..." She scrolled down her screen, biting her lip in concentration. "7 months."

"Are you serious?" I groaned. "Listen, it's really important."

"Sure it is," She laughed. "Unless you're applying to be a receptionist, which I highly doubt you are," She scoffed, eyeing me. "Or you're a multi-millionaire looking to do a merger, then there is simply no way you will be seeing Mr. Styles today."

"Thank you so much for your help," I said sarcastically, turning on my heel and stomping out the door. I stood on the curb impatiently, searching the street for a taxi and calling Jace. He answered on the first ring.

"Jace, he isn't available for seven months, I'm never going to be able to talk to him," I whined immediately. "Unless I'm a hot girl applying for a job or a fucking millionaire."

He giggled into the phone. "Are you really giving up that easy?"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Obviously go in there and pretend you are either a millionaire or a hot girl applying for a job. Demand to see him. I want to see Victoria's face when you actually get the interview."

"Seriously? Go in there and lie until I get to see him? No way. I'd get caught in a heart beat," I muttered

"Do it. Don't be such a baby! Go get Mr. Sexy Styles to agree. Fake the confidence that I know that Valentino dress is giving you. Now, I'd love to chat but I've got a meeting and you've got an interview to get to," he commanded. I sighed and hung up, and turned back into the office. I snuck past the receptionist and got to the elevator. There were over 30 floors.

Scowling, I clicked the too because I assumed that's where the most important office way. As I went up in the elevator, people climbed on and off, each other a young blonde bimbo that was drop dead gorgeous or an older, important looking man.

I slowly stepped off the elevator when it stopped at the top level. I was greeted by yet another desk and yet another pretty girl. I walked up and tried to look confident as she gave me a look.

"Can I help you?" She questioned with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes. I have a meeting with Mr. Styles," I replied immediately.

"Name?"

"Norah Wilson," I replied. It came out as more of a question. She tapped away on the computer and then looked back up at me.

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