Page 12 of You Had Me at Chateau
‘Amber Page,’ I reply, standing a little taller.
The security guard looks me up and down again, scepticism all over his face, like he’s having some sort of visible reaction to my words.
‘Is that a joke?’ he asks.
‘No,’ I say, exasperated because I get that all the time. ‘That’s my real name.’
People always ask me if I decided that I wanted to be a writer because of my last name. I always reply that, no, it was becauseI wanted a job with no financial security. My jokes don’t always land – and yet I crack them regardless.
He seems even more suspicious but picks up the phone and dials. As he waits for an answer, I can feel his eyes on me, like he’s expecting me to dosomething,anything, any minute. My guy is ready, which I guess is what you want from a security guard, but while he’s wasting his time with me, more threatening females could be scaling the building.
‘Jen Brooks, please,’ he says into the phone, glancing at me. ‘I’ve got an Amber Page here. Says she’s got a meeting with her, so I just need to check. Yes, I can wait.’
I wander over to the waiting area, trying not to let my encounter with Mr Jobsworth rattle me. I glance at the decorative shelves that flaunt books by some of their biggest authors. I scan the titles, feeling a pang of envy and a twinge of motivation with it. Obviously, there are none of my books here. In fact, there aren’t really any romance novels here – unless you count that horny golf one.
As I find myself once again questioning how much of a market there is for golf-themed erotica, the security guard’s voice snaps me from my thoughts.
‘Okay, you can go up,’ he says, waving me toward the lifts.
‘Thanks,’ I mutter – for nothing – as I head over.
I walk quickly and confidently, trying not to lose my new edge (because, let’s be real, I suspect it might be temporary).
When I reach the lift, I’m the only one there, and thankfully it’s already waiting on the ground floor so I step inside and press the button for Jen’s floor.
As I wait for the doors to close, I turn around to check my make-up in the mirrored wall. My reflection looks back at me with slightly smudged eyeliner and lipstick that, thankfully, hasn’t ventured into Joker territory – despite my best efforts over lunch, when I practically inhaled my bagel. I pop my glassesonto my head and use my index fingers to clean up my eyeliner a little. Well, if I go in there looking like I’ve been crying, it’s not going to give off the confidence I’m trying to pretend I found at the bottom of my lunchtime coffee cup, is it?
Deciding that’s the best I can do to sort it out, I move my glasses back to their usual home, only to feel a pair of hands snaking around my waist and a body pressing up against my back.
‘Hey, beautiful,’ a man’s voice practically growls into my ear as he nuzzles into my neck. ‘You came.’
I scream and quickly push the man away, but we’re in a lift and the doors are closed now, so it’s not like there’s anywhere for me to run. My heart is pounding. I start frantically digging through my bag for something to use as a weapon, though I suspect it’s probably just filled with rogue pairs of knickers, empty Kit Kat wrappers, and lip balms that have seen better days. I wonder which would serve me best in a fight. Probably the knickers; they certainly freaked Ray out.
As I glance up, I notice the man staring back at me, and the look on his face is as horrified as mine.
‘I’m so sorry!’ he exclaims, backing away with his hands raised, showing me that he isn’t a threat. ‘I thought you were someone else!’
Slightly relieved, but very annoyed, I narrow my eyes at him.
‘Do you make a habit of accosting women in lifts? Because if you do, you’ll fit right in with the men here.’
That’s probably a joke that only I will get but, still, like I said, I don’t let a little thing like that stop me from cracking them.
‘Only if they’re my girlfriend and they know I’m supposed to be here,’ he says, still looking mortified. ‘You just look exactly like her – from behind, at least. Same figure, same hair, same walk. It’s quite freaky, actually.’
‘Not as freaky as being humped in a lift when you’re not expecting it,’ I reply, giving him my best death stare.
He laughs and apologises again.
‘I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just… you really do look just like her,’ he continues. ‘But you’re right, I should’ve been more careful. Sorry – again.’
Ahh, apologising inside an apology – a man after my own heart.
‘I was checking my make-up, so I didn’t have my glasses on – I didn’t even know there was anyone else in the lift with me,’ I tell him.
‘I was on my way out when I saw you from behind, mistook you for someone else, and thought you were here to see me, so I ran in after you,’ he explains. ‘It all happened in an instant.’
I huff, still irritated but starting to calm down.
