White Gold *Completed*

London Calling

Two days later:

Pongo and I stood outside our new home, a tall, gorgeous single building. It was two floors with homes on either side, the buildings practically touching, but I could care less.

This was easily a multi-million dollar place for sure.

And it was fucking mine.

"Ma'am?" One of the movers behind me caught my attention.

"Right, uh. I'll go open it up, sorry." I clicked to Pongo and we went through the fancy iron gate and up the flagstone steps to the ornate black door.

When Pongo and I had arrived at the airport, a driver had been hired and had my name on a card, where my new key was also given to me.

A blast of cool air, accompanied by the smell of freshly polished hardwood hit my nose upon entering.

An open doorway was on my direct right, which led into a large closet.

Mouth agape, I wandered past what could be used as a hobby room, a study, a bathroom, and then opened a glass door into the main area, which took my breath away. Light wood floors reflected the sunlight coming in through huge windows and the double doors leading onto a decent balcony.

There was a gray stone fireplace, a rather ridiculously large kitchen, another sitting area, and two fully furnished bedrooms and another bathroom.

It was tastefully decorated with white and black, touches of soft pink and baby blue here and there, with pops of lightly glittering gold as accents.

"Where would you like this, miss?"

I turned around, still dazed, to direct the movers with my few boxes. I could have easily handled it all myself but movers had been hired for me, an insanely kind gesture.

I pulled Pongo along with me and we found what was obviously the master bedroom, complete with a huge walk-in closet and elegant lighting.

This was my house now.

"Oh my God, Pon." I whispered, laughing giddily. "We're actually here!"

I spent the rest of the day getting acquainted with the house, and then heading out to locate a pet store to get Pongo a new bed, toys, and food.

I would be starting work on Monday, which meant I had the entire rest of the weekend to enjoy myself and relax.

Coffee in hand, I stepped out into the gray morning and onto the stone street to hail a cab. One pulled to the curb and I hopped in, awkwardly adjusting my dress while giving the driver the address.

I watched the apartment buildings-er, flats- slide past my window like toy blocks. I couldn't believe I lived here! I'd always loved London but I never thought I'd someday live there, let alone in Mayfair.

By the time I arrived at the Westwood building and had to pay the fair, I quickly realized that taking a cab everyday wouldn't be financially possible for long.

When I entered through the front lobby and took the elevator to the top floor where I would be meeting my new boss, James Brock. I tried to keep the shake in my hands to a minimum, but my nerves were too extreme. I felt so strange and out of place here, in a way I couldn't quite place.

When the elevator I exited and went down the hall to the office I'd been directed to.

"Be cool, be calm, you belong here." I muttered to myself. I knocked on the door and was greeted with an accented "come in."

The office was grand and airy, modern with a tasteful hint of Victorian. Colorful Warhol's and other assorted pop art and black and white photos hung framed on the walls. Floor to ceiling windows and white walls made it feel light and airy, while still sophisticated.