Chapter 5 - He Makes It So Hard
It was around the fourth push that Kate cursed out, frustrated that she might not get to see him after all. She gave the crowded room another glance, debating whether or not to take her chances with Arthur tomorrow, but then all thoughts of aborting her mission faded as she caught sight of the very man that she was looking for.
There he stood, leaning against the bar with his sleek black hair cut and styled to perfection, running his finger down the apex of his black tailored suit - no doubt in mind that it was Italian. Nothing but the best for the most powerful man in the city.
My God, she thought, how is it possible for one man to have so much power radiating from him just by standing in a room with a glass of what looked liked Scotch clenched in his right hand?
Thank goodness she had no pulse of intimidation running through her, she thought.
The sound of the band playing in the far end of the room could barely be heard over the loud murmurs of the crowd. With one last glance back at the entrance, Kate could see Carl nodding his head at her, as if giving her the final push that she needed.
She let out a small breath of relief before walking over to the bar.
Introduce yourself... apologize... beg for another interview, she chanted to herself, praying to the heavens that she didn’t mess up.
“Mr. Price.” She said once she had reached his side.
His well-shaped head turned, and Kate swallowed the lump in her throat as blue, piercing blue eyes stared back at her.
Fucking hell, he’s hot!
He jutted a brow at her as his eyes went from her held out hand and back to her face.
“I’m sorry, Ms...?”
“Kate, Kate Dawson from Daily House.” She said offering him a genuine smile.
His rosy lips tightened into a thin line, not bothering to returning her smile.
“Ms. Dawson, glad you could make it, but I’m afraid I’m not taking any more interviews for the rest of the evening.” He said bringing the rim of his glass to his lips as he stared back into the crowd.
Kate drew back her unshaken hand back into a fist. It was just as she had imagined, his really did think a whole lot of himself.
Arrogant piece of
3 - 2 - 1
Apologize... beg for another interview.
“Yes, thank you for inviting me but I came to apologize for, well...” she stopped as his eyes met hers again in a menacing look.
“For calling me dick or for telling me to shove the appointment - where was it again?” He asked, both his face and his tone hard.
Oh God, she cringed inwardly.
Nice one Kate, he remembers, and in great detail too.
“I -uh apologize, it was unprofessional and uncalled for, but I--”
“Listen, Ms. - Dawson now, was it?” He interjected, placing his now empty glass on the bar.
Kate gritted her teeth and nodded at him with a forced smile plastered on her face, afraid that it might crack at any minute now. She hated when people cut her off. It was simply rude.
“I don’t dwell on the past, not on insignificant matters that is. So consider your apology somewhat accepted. Now, if you don’t mind, some of us have real work to do.” He said, turning his back to her.
Kate could have sworn that she saw black for two seconds. She could feel a vein pop at the back of her head as all efforts in retaining her calm started to slip.
He had just called her insignificant, her job -- worthless and then had the utmost audacity to dismiss her as if she was one of his maids - or worse, like he had just dusted off a speck of dust on his shoe.
Dear lord, she was this close to losing it.
She closed her eyes, trying to find her ‘happy place’, wherever the hell it was. After a few tries, she gave up and opened her eyes ready to try phase three -- begging.
“Mr. Price, please. If you would--” Her eyes widened as she glanced around.
He was already gone.
Not so much as a second glance or an ‘it has been a pleasure’ bull crap, just - poof, gone.
That man was - in all its splendour the real definition of an asshole.
“Motherfu--” she hissed under her breath, staring daggers into his back as she spotted him walking towards a group of elderly guys.
The feeling of defeat washed over her. She was done for, she though leaning against the bar.
What other choice did she have? The wise thing to do would be to to go home and start going through vacancies.
“Ouch.” Kate heard and she turned to see a blond man who appeared to be in his late twenties giving her a look of sympathy.
He was leaning against the bar in his grey suit with his left arm resting on the counter and an empty glass in the other hand.
“You heard that?” She asked, hoping that he hadn’t.
“Yep, all of it I’m afraid.” He replied in an amused tone.
“Well I’m glad that at least one of us got a kick out of it. Are they all assholes?” She asked, looking back into the crowd to find Taylor.
“Not all of us, just him.” He grinned.
Kate smiled, “Kate.” She said offering the stranger a hand.
“Brandon, ” he returned, his brown chocolate eyes gleamed at her as he shook her hand.
“Judging by his reaction, I’m guessing that you made an incredible first impression with him.” Brandon uttered before calling for the bartender.
“Not per say. God, he’s so arrogant and self centered. He makes it so damn hard for me to --” she bit the corners of her lips.
“To what?” Brandon urged with a mischievous grin plastered on his handsome face.
“To not curse him out, to not explode and give him a piece of my mind, and to not top it all off with a well deserved slap right across his damn face.”
Brandon chuckled at her statement, “You, my darling, are a breath of fresh air. I honestly can’t recall ever laughing this hard at one of these stiff events.”