Read Online My Escort by Kia Carrington-Russell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kia Carrington-Russell
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was struggling with the new male model. His poses were awkward. I supposed not everyone had a photogenic appearance. It still struck me as bizarre that he was to claim the cover if he didn’t connect with the camera. Although he was a well-known, handsome chef in the bustling CBD of New York, he really didn’t have a knack for the camera. But as he wasn’t a model by profession, it really was Issobelle’s responsibility to make the picture work.
I suggested to Debra that perhaps we should organize a new model, someone generic and experienced. We could keep the journalist’s piece on the chef. But we really had to have a model that would make the readers want to initially pick up the magazine. Issobelle quickly agreed with me, saying she couldn’t do much more with these photos, but Debra shot me down and simply stated I was wrong.
As soon as it was over I had to bust out a pace that would put an Olympian to shame. Next on the list was overseeing the catering. Within a short thirty minutes, I managed to organize the cafeteria into a classy function room, complete with champagne, and silver and gold balloons. I had even given the humble microwave in the corner a makeover. The long dark-blue marble counter and silver fridge even seemed to complement the decorations. If I had the time and notice, however, it would have been far more spectacular.
Silver ribbon streamed from the white roof. The white marble floor had small gold confetti scattered over it, which trailed through the glass doors and around the glass walls which enclosed the cafeteria. I pushed the elegant white tables with their sleek black chairs to the side of the room, creating a space where the staff could mingle and talk. It was a decent sized room, which was why if we had guests or held small functions we would use this one. Next to the cafeteria was the sales team’s room, who enjoyed a chuckle when I almost fell over whilst trying to attach tinsel to the roof.
Finally my task was complete, and with no time to spare as everyone swarmed into the room, laughing and jostling with each other. Spirits were high as the sound of champagne bottles popping punctured the room. It was a festive group that ran the magazine. Although we often had our differences and debated them quite freely, everyone compensated by drinking together happily, excessively even, when the company paid for it. It was a chance to gossip and to laugh together.
I was just arranging some trays in the kitchen area when Cassidy bounced to my side. “You did a great job,” Cassidy beamed with a glass in her hand. “I am going to pretend this was for my birthday.” She giggled loudly before suddenly sobering up.
“Speaking of a great job... you know how you were going to submit to Debra’s wrath and be patronized about your boyfriend’s dedication? Well, it seems like fate may have slightly intervened,” she smugly said, looking over my shoulder.
I furrowed my eyebrows at her in confusion. Fingers lightly brushed over my shoulder and I spun in shock at the familiar touch, almost spilling my own champagne in the process. Damon stood in front of me, dressed in black polished shoes, a salmon collared shirt, and firm fitting black pants.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted out.
“You have my wallet? I know you said to meet you at yours, but I was driving past the neighborhood and thought I would stop by. Reception said I could find you in the cafeteria,” Damon said casually, placing his hands in his pants’ pockets.
“This isn’t the best of times,” I said, quickly looking around for Debra’s sharp eyes.
“Hi, I’m Cassidy. It’s funny you’re here, actually. Debra was expecting you to come to this party as Clover’s boyfriend. And here you are,” Cassidy mused.
I felt red flush across my cheeks as I gave her a dirty look. “I didn’t want to bother you again. I wasn’t sure you’d want to, you know, after last night...” I admitted awkwardly.
Damon leant
I suggested to Debra that perhaps we should organize a new model, someone generic and experienced. We could keep the journalist’s piece on the chef. But we really had to have a model that would make the readers want to initially pick up the magazine. Issobelle quickly agreed with me, saying she couldn’t do much more with these photos, but Debra shot me down and simply stated I was wrong.
As soon as it was over I had to bust out a pace that would put an Olympian to shame. Next on the list was overseeing the catering. Within a short thirty minutes, I managed to organize the cafeteria into a classy function room, complete with champagne, and silver and gold balloons. I had even given the humble microwave in the corner a makeover. The long dark-blue marble counter and silver fridge even seemed to complement the decorations. If I had the time and notice, however, it would have been far more spectacular.
Silver ribbon streamed from the white roof. The white marble floor had small gold confetti scattered over it, which trailed through the glass doors and around the glass walls which enclosed the cafeteria. I pushed the elegant white tables with their sleek black chairs to the side of the room, creating a space where the staff could mingle and talk. It was a decent sized room, which was why if we had guests or held small functions we would use this one. Next to the cafeteria was the sales team’s room, who enjoyed a chuckle when I almost fell over whilst trying to attach tinsel to the roof.
Finally my task was complete, and with no time to spare as everyone swarmed into the room, laughing and jostling with each other. Spirits were high as the sound of champagne bottles popping punctured the room. It was a festive group that ran the magazine. Although we often had our differences and debated them quite freely, everyone compensated by drinking together happily, excessively even, when the company paid for it. It was a chance to gossip and to laugh together.
I was just arranging some trays in the kitchen area when Cassidy bounced to my side. “You did a great job,” Cassidy beamed with a glass in her hand. “I am going to pretend this was for my birthday.” She giggled loudly before suddenly sobering up.
“Speaking of a great job... you know how you were going to submit to Debra’s wrath and be patronized about your boyfriend’s dedication? Well, it seems like fate may have slightly intervened,” she smugly said, looking over my shoulder.
I furrowed my eyebrows at her in confusion. Fingers lightly brushed over my shoulder and I spun in shock at the familiar touch, almost spilling my own champagne in the process. Damon stood in front of me, dressed in black polished shoes, a salmon collared shirt, and firm fitting black pants.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted out.
“You have my wallet? I know you said to meet you at yours, but I was driving past the neighborhood and thought I would stop by. Reception said I could find you in the cafeteria,” Damon said casually, placing his hands in his pants’ pockets.
“This isn’t the best of times,” I said, quickly looking around for Debra’s sharp eyes.
“Hi, I’m Cassidy. It’s funny you’re here, actually. Debra was expecting you to come to this party as Clover’s boyfriend. And here you are,” Cassidy mused.
I felt red flush across my cheeks as I gave her a dirty look. “I didn’t want to bother you again. I wasn’t sure you’d want to, you know, after last night...” I admitted awkwardly.
Damon leant
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