Page 13 of The Stranger
My weekend solitary confinement was spent googling everything I could on both Spencer Prescott and his IT company. I was left a tad intimidated and bewildered by the end. It became glaringly obvious I didn’t, and would never, fit into his world. The luxurious mansions, flashycars, lavish holidays. Not to mention the endless array of beautiful women.
As for Prescott Enterprises, I love the diversity that comes with working with such a large corporation. As much as I enjoyed my time at the dental clinic, it was rather boring and monotonous.
That being said, I did a lot of soul-searching on the bus ride into the city this morning, and although I appreciate everything Spencer Prescott has done for me thus far, I’ve decided not to take him up on his offer. I’ve already experienced charity employment—let’s give poor Delilah a job until she’s ready to pump out those babies, because what else is she good for?I’m not about to put myself in that position again. I may not be a straight-A student, like my sister, but I’m reliable, punctual, a fast learner, and an extremely hard worker. I’ll find another job, eventually.
I give myself a few minutes to bask in the what-ifs before I enter the building. It’s even more impressive and opulent on the inside.
My high heels click against the white marble floor as I cross the expansive foyer towards the large, curved mahogany desk that sits against the far wall. My eyes are everywhere as I do. There are men in fancy business suits standing around talking and women of various ages, sizes, and ethnicities, all dressed to the nines in designer outfits. Some have takeaway coffee cups in hand as they rush towards the lifts that line the left side of the foyer.
As pretty as I felt when I got ready this morning, I’m suddenly feeling a little underdressed in my bargain rack, funeral attire.
I’m half expecting to run into Spencer as I make my way across the room, and that thought has me thinking back to Abigail telling him how they had met in this veryspace before. A tiny smile tugs at my lips as I do.“I can’t say remember that encounter, but I have over three hundred people working for me, Miss St. James, and a constant rotation of interns. It would be impossible for me to recall every interaction.”
Butterflies knot in my stomach as I come to a stop in front of the reception desk. The polished wood gleams under the downlights, and I have to refrain from reaching out to skim my fingers along it. It’s a vast contrast to the black PVC desk I used to sit behind.
The pretty woman with jet-black hair and striking green eyes looks up at me. “Welcome to Prescott Enterprises,” she says, smiling. “How can I help you today?”
“Hi,” I reply as my hands wring nervously at my sides. “My name is Delilah St. James; I’m here to see Mr Prescott.”
Her smile grows as she turns towards the computer screen and types something into the keyboard. “He doesn’t have you down in his schedule … give me a moment and I’ll call him.”
We never actually agreed on a time … does he even remember he told me to call by? I feel my face flush. “Oh, I don’t want to bother him if he’s busy, I can come?—”
The woman presses a button on the keypad, then holds up the same finger to halt me. “Mr Prescott, it’s Shay-lee from reception. I have a Miss St. James here to see you.”
When she ends the call, she opens the top drawer and pulls out a plastic card before standing. “Come, he asked me to bring you up.”
She rounds the desk, and I follow her as she makes her way towards a singular elevator on the opposite side to the others. After pressing the button, we remain silent as we step into the carriage.
Once the doors close, she scans the card in her hand and presses the button for the seventeenth floor. “I take it you’retheDelilah St. James? You caused quite a stir here last week,” she states.
“Me?” I squeak.
“Yes, from your status on social media.”
“Oh, that,” I say, bowing my head and blushing again.
“Mr Prescott has always had an air of mystery surrounding him. He’s an extremely private person, so you can imagine how your post had the rumour mill buzzing.” When I grimace, she reaches out to place her hand on my arm. “It is a good thing, Delilah. He’s a great boss … very personable, but he lives, eats and breathes this place, so it was nice to see he has a life outside these walls.”
I nod my head as I nibble on the corner of my lip, grateful that I wore my long hair down and put on makeup this morning. I might be almost twenty-two years old, but I still get asked for ID occasionally, especially when my hair is tied back in a ponytail and I’m fresh-faced. I had a guy tell me once I looked twelve. Gah.
I’m now appreciating that I had the foresight to take that post down on the bus ride here. The last thing I want to do is make Spencer look predatory amongst his employees. It just cements my decision to reject his offer. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate his staff gossiping about him as they stand by the water cooler.
Thankfully, our ride to his floor is quick. “This is where I leave you,” Shay-lee says as the doors open. “It was lovely to meet you in person, Delilah.”
“You too,” I reply, stepping off the elevator.
When the doors close behind me, I glance around the space. There is no sign of Spencer anywhere as I take in my surroundings.
This level is decorated differently than downstairs, but it still screams luxury. The polished tiles are a dark grey, and the walls are painted just a fraction lighter. It’s moody and very masculine.
A large, modern, L-shaped black desk is placed in the centre of the room. A single black leather chair sits behind it, and a slimline computer is off to one side. What appears to be a floating wall in the rear has a large colourful abstract painting hanging from it.
I turn my head to the left and see the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city skyline in the distance. I take a step closer as I’m pulled in that direction … I want to get a better look. I’ve never seen Sydney from this vantage point before.
Before I reach my destination, I hear a deep voice say, “Delilah, thank God you’re here.”
I spin on my feet, and I’m forced to intake a sharp breath when I see Spencer Prescott standing there all dapper in his dark three-piece suit. He runs his hand through his mane of thick brown hair. He looks frazzled.
