Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
I laugh out loud at that, remembering the yawn and stretch show I was putting on. The bloom of success glows in my stomach, and I’m grinning as I drop my phone back on the bedside table.
Yes!
Holly the whore is back in town.
I’ve missed her.
Chapter Three
I race over to Ebony when I see her waiting for me outside Kingsgate Property Lettings. She stands out a mile with her blonde highlights and rich red jumpsuit. Her arms are open wide when I reach her, grabbing me in a bear hug like it’s been years.
“Whoa,” she says as she finally pulls away. “Jesus, Ella, you look like the CEO of a multinational corporation, not a girl after an apartment.”
I laugh, because hardly. I’ve got a blouse and pencil skirt on with my fitted jacket, sure. And ok, some classic black court heels. But I’ve still got my eyeliner in catflicks and plum berry lipstick on. I still look like I’m straight out of a goth movie, even if my hair is up tight in a bun. Quite a transformation from last night – helped most definitely by the comfy king size bed and the hotel’s kickass breakfast this morning. Nobody would guess I’m still wearing yesterday’s dirty panties under my smart attire. Nobody other than tonight’s client, that is.
“I want to make sure I impress them,” I say to Eb. “These apartments are posh as fuck. They could turn me down.”
She looks at me reassuringly, like I’m a nervous kid about to head into an exam.
“You don’t need to impress Kingsgate. They need to impress you. It’s them who are going to be caning the rental income from your bank account, not the other way around.”
“Maybe, but my employment history isn’t all that impressive, and neither is my credit score.”
She shrugs. “So? You’re paying a hefty deposit, with an employer reference from The Agency. They’ve stated they’ll be a professional guarantor as well, right? No problemo. You’re a PR Superstar now, remember that.”
Orla from The Agency is the superstar for even offering it. They really do look after their entertainers. I’ve handed over my past few months bank statements to Kingsgate, looking pretty damn healthy, but my credit history would never cut it. I hope Kingsgate turn a blind eye to my rating.
I smooth my skirt down for the umpteenth time. I know that Ebony is right, but a big part of me still doesn’t quite believe it. I’ve taken to reading motivational books every chance I get, trying to soak in the messages from the pages. Believe in yourself. Positive mental attitude. Train your focus and follow your dreams. And yeah, they’ve been working, but this is so important I can’t help the nerves. The portfolio of apartments Kingsgate will be showing me today is out of this world. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so bold in my choices, since a standard two bed place would do just fine.
Hmm, maybe the motivational books had a part to play in my viewing selection… Dream big.
Ebony checks her watch. “Want to head on in? You’ll feel way better when the viewings start. Trust me, babe, they’ll be showing off classy kitchen islands, and bigging up luxurious carpets and panoramic views, not judging your life history.”
“I hope so.”
She gestures to the door. “Let’s do it, then. Ten minutes early is no big deal.”
“Yeah,” I say, and paste on a smile. “Let’s do it.”
I clutch my handbag, making sure I’m showing off the luxury leather as we step up to the reception desk. They have Kingsgate in a big gold logo on the wall.
“I’m here for Richard Jacobs,” I tell the receptionist. “I have viewings today.”
My nerves ease off when she smiles back like I’m a valued client, not just a wannabe.
“I’ll go get him for you. Ella Edwards, yes?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Eb smirks at me as the receptionist walks away. “See. You look like a millionaire. You fit in just fine.”
I giggle. “I’m hardly a millionaire.”
“Not yet, but give it time.”
I don’t have the chance to answer before a tall, suited guy – maybe mid-thirties – paces over to shake my hand. He’s got a tweed jacket on, high class to match this place, but that doesn’t faze me once his hand takes mine. If anything, that just makes something click – a realisation that snaps straight into my head. I’m no longer fazed by extravagance, or class, or received pronunciation. The filthy proposals I’ve accepted have seen to that. I’ve fucked plenty of stately, rich clients now, and the way Richard swallows as he looks me up and down reignites my confidence. He wants me. I can see it in his eyes.
“Ella,” he says. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“You, too,” I reply, and he moves his attention to Ebony, offering her his hand.
“Ebony,” she says. “Ella’s friend.”