March - His Girl Friday

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Fanny Press

PO Box 70515

Seattle, WA 98127

For more information go to: www.fannypress.com

ellenmarch.jimdo.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover design by Sabrina Sun

His Girl Friday

Copyright 2014 by Ellen March

ISBN: 978-1-60381-564-2 (Trade Paper)

ISBN: 978-1-60381-565-9 (eBook)

Produced in the United States of America

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T o my sister Chris, who always believed in me. I hope shes looking down from heaven and reading this.

T o my rock (as usual), Leanne, and the wonderful team from Fanny Press, Catherine, Emily and Jennifer. Way to go ladies! Its girl power.

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S ally was just snuggling beneath the quilt as the alarm sounded. With a loud groan, she pulled the pillow over her head in an attempt to drown out the shrill noise. It vibrated on the bedside cabinet with the manic intensity of a Brazilian salsa dancer.

She flung out a long, slender arm and swiped at the evil device in an attempt to stop the clamour. Sally muttered curses to herself as it crashed to the floor and continued to blare.

Oh God, why cant I win the lottery? She rubbed at her scratchy, tired eyes. A morning person she was not. Groping for the clock, she attempted to focus on the time. Her eyes widened in shock. Shit! She threw back the quilt and scrambled out of bed.

As she danced around the small bedroom on one leg, Sally tried to pull up her trousers. She cursed the fact she was going to be late for work yet again, and today of all days was so not a good time.

She reached for her mobile, keyed in the number, then waited, pushing back her heavy mane of honey blond hair. Impatience rode her hard. Come on! she urged aloud. After what seemed an eternity a familiar voice answered. Still clutching her mobile, she struggled to pull on her bottoms with one hand.

Jenny, its me. She paused and shook her head in disbelief. What do you mean who? Its Sally. Listen, Im running late, like half an hour. Can you fob Norma off with something? Rolling her eyes, she continued to fight in earnest to pull on a sneaker. She wished Jenny didnt complicate matters by asking questions. Well, I dont know. Say anything, just dont tell her Ive overslept again. Right, yeah, okay. See you soon.

Almost forty minutes later she cycled up to the high rise office block that stretched into the sky. The early morning sun glinted off the sheet of tinted glass that reflected it, the name Normandy emblazoned across the front. It shimmered a harsh red.

Freewheeling down into the parking garage below, Sally used up precious minutes chaining her bike. But she couldnt afford to have it stolen. Not bothering to wait for the lift, she raced up the five flights of stairs towards the top floor.

Jenny glanced up from her desk. She closed her eyes when Sally came skidding through the door, knocking the bin over in her haste, and shook her head in despair. Wherever Sally went some sort of accident happened. She was a walking disaster.

Norma is waiting for you. Jenny, Normas secretary, pointed to the closed door opposite her desk. She smoothed back her short dark hair, cut in a bob to frame her round face. Her expression remained unmoved, with not a wrinkle to crease it. A set of periwinkle blue eyes settled on Sally. And shes not in a good mood.

Is she ever? muttered Sally, leaning forward with her hands on her thighs, gasping for air after her sprint. She attempted to calm her breathing. Despite the cycling to work, she was not particularly fit. Finally she stood up straight, tugged off her jacket, and dropped it onto the desk. She didnt notice the polystyrene cup of water. It tilted and wobbled before falling over.

Oh, for goodness sake, why dont you look what youre doing? Jenny shot her a glare, trying to stem the pool of water by dabbing at it with a handful of tissue.

Sorry, mumbled Sally, a blaze of colour splashing across her face as she focused on her scruffy, white trainers. When the door opened, she jumped. A thin, middle-aged woman stood there, glaring at her. She wore a smart suit, the navy skirt fitted snug around narrow hips, along with a pinched expression. Her displeasure was obvious.

Nice of you to start work this morning. Or should I say afternoon, she snapped. Pearly white teeth glinted bright against a dark, tanned complexion. Now if you can manage it, do you think you could spare me some time?

Without waiting for a reply, Norma spun round and marched back into her office, her heels clacking loudly on the wooden floor. The sharp staccato sounded like a volley of gunfire.

Sally chewed on her lip, a frisson of nerves circling in the pit of her stomach. Pushing her heavy, dark-framed glasses back up her nose, she took a deep breath and followed. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

The inside of the large office was almost sterile and sparsely furnished. A massive cream desk dominated the room. Behind it sat Norma, her bright, spiky red hair glinting in the late morning light. Sally noticed that the lines on her thin face appeared deeper today. Probably due to the sun bed she was addicted to. Sally wondered if the woman would ever consider Botox.

Sit, Norma ordered, her eyes glazing across Sally in disgust. Norma couldnt work out why the girl dressed the way she did. She made no attempt to look smart. And the fact that she didnt seem to care even though she worked at an advertising house grated on Norma. Sally didnt bother with makeup. Didnt wear designer clothes. She wondered why Sally worked here at all. Fashionista she wasnt. Even her hairstyle screamed old-fashioned, dated. But today it suited Normas purpose.

Sally stumbled backwards, fumbling for a chair, before realizing someone else was in the room. She turned to look and saw that it was Pepper.

As usual, the svelte blonde appeared immaculate, from the top of her perfectly layered blonde-streaked hair to the short, fitted black dress that clung to her emaciated body. Her hair looked as if shed just stepped out of a beauty parlour. Legs of giraffe proportion were crossed comfortably in front of her, and she wore ridiculous high heels whose red soles screamed designer label Louboutin.

Sally attempted to tuck her legs beneath the chair, anything not to draw attention to her tattered trainers. She tried to avert her gaze from Peppers gleaming shoes.

Youre both here today to attend an interview, began Norma, glancing at one then the other.

What, youre sacking us? squeaked Sally as fear squeezed her lungs. Her eyes were huge behind the thick black glasses. She was already behind with her rent. She picked at a broken nail with a feverish intensity, worrying how shed pay her bills. Im sorry. Ill make sure Im on time from now on.

Will you be quiet and simply listen for once in your life? Irritated, Norma lit a cigarette, not bothering to ask if they minded. It didnt matter to her, anyway. No Im not sacking you, but Im glad to hear your time keeping is going to improve. Youve both heard of Roman Daniels, the reclusive millionaire? She paused, waiting for a reaction.