I fly through the rest of Monday trying to get as much work as I can, leaving Lisa little to do. I didn't want her stuck with all my work even though George said it was okay. I stayed till 9pm making sure all my columns were edited.
I jump in the cab that was waiting to take me to his office building. I didn't divulge to Emma the reason why I'm going down to his office again. Telling her would only fuel her curiosity as to why I'm doing a memoir on Mr Kingsley life. I would, of course, lie and feed her the same crap that I've fed myself – that the memoir on him will help me get noticed and would benefit my work.
The way he makes me feels has nothing to do with my excitement– none at all. I woke up at 7am to get ready I didn't realise I had spent almost 30 minutes trying to braid my hair making me run out of time.
I stop in front of the building trying smooth down my skirt, but as I stop a few steps away the glass doors start opening. I look up to seeing his driver was standing there as if he was waiting for me. He did say 9:00 by it was now 9:10. I walk towards the man in the black suit. He was waiting on the steps for me, filling the double doorway, sunglasses firmly in place. I never understood why they wore sunglasses.
'Good morning.' I greet, grabbing my folder and bag. Will he speak today?
No, he nods and turns, walking towards the lifts that were on the other side, leaving me to follow him. It's was less busier than when I was here in the morning. I noticed he pressed a different floor level, we were going to a different floor?
The lifts opened to what looks like a lounge room, like a mini bar. But there was a couch in the middle with a bar and more table with multiple chair reminding me of the same room we kissed in.
A little man pops up from behind the bar. 'Yes?'
'Get Miss Myra a drink, please.' He turns his concealed eyes back to me. 'I'll be back. Ryan wants a quick word.'
'With me?' I blurt, blushing slightly at my abruptness.
'No, with me,'
'Is he staying in his office?' I ask nervously. I'm asking too many questions about something so trivial. Even the thought of the man reduces me to a nervous wreck. I never thought I would think this, but I do actually feel more comfortable with the big guy.
For a start, I trust myself with him. His lips twitch, clearly trying to fight a smile. I inwardly groan. He knows.
'S'all good, girl.' He turns, giving the boy a funny look, which the little barman acknowledges with a flick of his cloth.
What's that all about?
He nods sternly before striding out, leaving me at the bar.
I gaze around, noticing a woman laughing with a middle aged man at a table nearby. It's the woman I saw in the toilets at his hotel. She's wearing a black trouser suit and looks extremely professional. She must be here for – business, maybe?
The man accompanying her rises from the table, putting his hand out politely. She accepts it with a smile as she stands, letting him tuck her under his arm and lead her out of the bar as they chat and giggle.
I perch on a bar stool to wait for Swayer, taking my phone out to check for messages and missed calls.
I sip my drink as I wait for Ryan. It goes down too well and before I know it, I've drank the lot. I can't wait to get home so I can dig into the bottle being kept chilled in the fridge.
'Hello.'
I swivel on my stool, coming face to face with the woman that was draped all over Ryan on the papers. She smiles at me, but it's the most insincere smile I've ever had the pleasure of receiving. 'Hi.' I say politely.
The bartender come rushing over with a panic stricken face, waving his hands in the air. 'Miss Amanda! No, please.'
What?
'Oh, shut up! I'm not stupid.' she spits.
The bartender flinches before returning to where he was, keeping his eyes on Amanda. I want to jump to his defense, but just as I'm contemplating doing exactly that, she puts out her hand.
'I'm Amanda, you are?'
Oh yes, I've seen her face all over magazines. I accept her hand, shaking it lightly as she eyes me suspiciously. I can tell she doesn't like me. Perhaps she sees me as a threat.
"Myra Williams" I offer, releasing my hold of her hand swiftly.
"And you're here because?"
I laugh lightly. I'm sure she knows exactly why I'm here, which only serves to confirm that she's feeling threatened and going out of her way to make me feel uncomfortable. Sheath the claws, lady. I silently smile at the thought of telling her that it's because her boyfriend pleaded with me to be here.
'I'm an Journalist. I'm here for Mr Kingsley.
She arches an eyebrow, flicking her hand in the air to get the bartender attention. This woman is something else, with aloofness in equal measure to Ryans boldness. Her blonde, layered hair is flicking here and there, her lips the same pouty red, and she's wearing a fitted, grey trouser suit. I'm being unkind when I put her at forty. She's probably mid-thirties – far closer to Ryan in age than me. I quickly reign in my wandering thoughts, mentally slapping my own desperate arse.
"Sloe gin and tonic," she demands past me. No please and no smile. She really is quite rude. 'You're a bit young to be an journalist, aren't you?' Her tone is unfriendly, and she doesn't look at me when she speaks.
I bristle. I really don't like this woman. What does Ryan see in her, apart from over inflated, pouty lips and obvious breast implants? 'I am.' I agree. She feels threatened by my youth as well. Good.
I'm beyond relieved when Swayer appears in the doorway. He pulls his glasses down, giving Amanda a peculiar look before nodding at me. What's with all these looks being thrown around? I don't dwell on it, though.
Sawyer's nod is the cue I need to escape this woman. I place my empty glass on the bar more forcefully than I intend to. The bartender head snaps up, and I smile an apology, lowering myself from the stool.
'Nice meeting you, Amanda.' I say pleasantly. It's a lie. I don't like her, and I know the feeling's mutual.
She doesn't look at me. She accepts the drink that the bartender hands her, without so much as a thank you, and walks off to chat with a male business type at the other end of the bar.
When I reach Sawyer, he leads me down a corridor, I knew we were heading towards Mr Kingsley's office.
'I'll be fine on my own, Sawyer. I don't want to keep you.' I offer him the chance to leave me to it as he leads me down the corridor.
'S'all good, girl.' he rumbles, opening the door. The phrase "A man of few words" was invented with Sawyer in mind, I'm sure. He talks with his nods, and even though his eyes are covered with his sunglasses, I can identify when he's looking at me.