Miss Denmark

date

I barely reached inside the building the following day before Jazz waved me over.

"I have cleared it with your boss. You'll be a few minutes late," he said and followed me through security.

The book was writing itself. That is, the erotic novel which, somewhere was being played out between Greene and myself.

We talked, he had his fantastic sexual fantasies, I just followed along and he got what he wanted. And either it ended happily, or then I was screwed afterwards.

I followed Jazz into the elevator. The ride up was without interruptions and Alexander waited on the other side of the door when we reached the top floor.

A tie in the same color as his eyes and black suit did nothing bad for him. Opposite the day before, his shirt was black too.

"Can I have a word with you?" he asked and turned. He walked to his office as if he'd just scolded it for something. Yes, he sounded, and walked, as if the office was in the wrong.

I followed and stepped into his office, he held the door for me.

"My reputation matters," he said and looked at me, the door closed.

Yes. I had guessed it would. "Yes?" I said.

He turned his computer screen. It was an email, or so it looked like, and it was a picture from TMZ. From the day before, outside the building, we stood close and talked.

The headline sounded if he'd gotten a flirt.

"Yes?" I asked. Now, I knew it was me. Otherwise you'd barely notice. I had my back to the photographer. So all you could see was blond hair. My hair went to the waist, wavy and dirty blond.

He took a deep breath. "I have been invited to a charity event on Friday. My flirt is invited," he said, his voice low. He had clenched teeth.

I wasn't his flirt. "So?" I asked slowly. Somewhere I found it both hilarious and terrifying. It was difficult to see it as either or.

He ran his fingers through his hair. "So?" he asked. "It's about abused women," he said. He turned the screen again, reached over and scrolled down the page. Next picture was of me where you could see I had a bruise on my jaw.

Crap.

"I need you to go with me to clarify that I didn't hit you or tried to take a choke hold on you," he said and looked at me.

I moistened my lips. "Why?" I asked quietly.

He had a gleam in his eyes. "I am supporting an organization supporting abused women," he said quietly and threatening. "It can't look as if I've actually hit one."

"Have you?" I asked.

"No!" he said. Thundered.

I blinked and nodded. "Of course not." I said. He wouldn't support that organization if he had?

He took a deep breath. "Will you kindly participate?" he asked.

"What would I get out of it?" I asked. I would do it so he didn't lose face, but last Friday's comment was circling around in my head. And even though he'd helped me Saturday I still felt as if I spend more time on him than my work. As in right now.

He looked at me as if he could see through me, will me to do something. "What do you want out of it?" he asked.

"Not necessarily anything," I said. "But it'll probably take more than ten minutes, and I don't have an outfit for that kind of event."

He took a deep breath again. "I'll provide clothes, shoes, what else," he said. "Deal?" he asked.

I sighed then nodded. "Fine." I said.

He swallowed. "I'll mail you the information," he said. "And I'll get Jazz to pick you up at three pm Friday, I'll work out the rest," he said.

"I'll need to talk to my boss," I said. He couldn't just dictate what I should and shouldn't do.

His blue eyes fell on me. "I'll talk to her." He said and walked around his desk. He picked up the phone and pushed a button.

"Put me through to Patricia Cooper," he snapped.

My time was over here? I turned and walked to the door.

"Thank you."

I wasn't sure if I heard it or just dreamed I did. When I looked back at him, he was staring intently at his computer screen. I walked down the hall and rode the elevator down to my job.

Trisha sent me a mail, stating that she'd spoken with Greene and that I had Friday afternoon off, though I had to spend to hours in the weekend, working.

I wanted to mail him and say that I could make my own arrangements, taking time off. But I didn't have his email, and he had probably far more important things to think about than how I got my Friday afternoon off.

I finished my graphics and sent them to Trisha.

The following task was an advertisement Trisha would brief Courtney and I on and then we would all make it together. It meant a lot and she wanted to ensure she had it like she wanted it. Despite me being a Dane I had spent so much time learning word plays and expressions that I didn't see it as a hindrance.