Meet Clara Andrews: A totally vacuous girl with a hangover... by Lacey London Read Free Book Online

I grab a slice of Hawaiian and take a bite.
    ‘This is amazing! Beats my usual cucumber and Philly sandwiches any day.’
    ‘I’m glad you approve. It’s nice to see a girl with an appetite.’ He winks at me and makes a dive for the Pepperoni.
    Wait a minute. Did he just call me fat? I pause, pizza slice halfway into my mouth and debate causing World War 3.
    ‘What do you think of our new crib?’ He asks, sitting down opposite me.
    ‘I like it,’ I nod in approval, trying not to get pineapple chunks down my very expensive Armani dress.
    ‘You don’t think it’s too soon to be moving in together?’ he says with a hint of a smile in his voice.
    ‘Very funny.’ I respond, trying to avoid all eye contact.
    We sit in silence for a while, both thoroughly enjoying the amazing pizza. On my fourth slice, I make a mental note to go for a jog later, already knowing full well that I won’t. I watch Oliver devouring his pizza, happily and content. Considering he is so cocky and arrogant, sometimes he has a real air of childlike innocence about him. He chucks his pizza crust back into the box and flips the lid shut.
    ‘That was great, seriously good pizza.’
    ‘You’re very welcome Miss Andrews. That will be two lunches I have stood you. Now, if you want to take me out for dinner as a thank you, you should know that I’m a very busy man.’
    I make a half cough, half spluttering sound and try not to let my face burn up. For the want of something to do, I pile the boxes high and place them on one side. Oliver laughs heartily and shakes his head. 
    ‘So, this winter line. Marc tells me you already have some ideas drawn up?’
    ‘Yes, I have been working on this line for a few weeks now.’ I reach for my sketch pad and lay it out on the table.
    I am actually really proud of my designs. They have taken many hours of mental and physical work, but I honestly believe they are fantastic. He pulls the papers towards him and studies them thoughtfully, before taking a pencil and getting to work on a pair of leather studded ankle boots.
    I try not to feel annoyed as he mutilates the original drawing with a series of strokes and shading techniques. Does he have any idea how long it has taken me to create the perfect take on the classic ankle boot? From the shiny, patent leather and pointy toe to the silver studding down the heel, they are seriously beautiful and probably my favourite design to date. He suddenly puts down his pencil and spins the pad around for me to see.
    Wow! The previous patent upper has been substituted for distressed, buffed leather and the sharp, pointed front replaced with a slight peep toe. The studding has spilled out onto each side of the shoe and incorporated a selection of metal spikes. They are seriously the coolest pair of boots I have ever seen, far more out there than any design previously seen at Suave. I stroke the paper in admiration.
    ‘Fantastic! Marc will love these!’ I smile from ear to ear and watch in awe as he studies a pair of lace up wedges before picking up his pencil and starting to sketch.
    No wonder he was head hunted. We’ve had designers before that have had two years to complete an assignment and still over run. It must have taken him all of twenty minutes to transform my original art work into a couture masterpiece.  I have never worked with anyone like Oliver. The design process usually takes hundreds upon hundreds of drawings and fabric sampling to achieve the perfect finish, where as he is hurling final ideas down on paper in one quick sketch.
    He catches my eye and I realise I have been staring for longer than is what is socially acceptable. I hold his gaze for a few seconds before looking away, feeling his eyes burning into the back of my head. I really need to kick this stupid crush if we are going to be working together for another eight weeks. I mean, what exactly am I expecting to happen here? Aren’t inter work relations against the rules anyway? I find myself