Kayleigh bolted upright in her new bed, heart pounding at the sound of a very angry alarm. She reached over to her bedside table to check the time. It was 8:20 a.m.

IT WAS 8:20 A.M.

"Oh, my gosh!" she exclaimed as she tried to scramble out of bed. Only her legs were trapped under a heavy weight.

"Marcus! Marcus, wake up!" she hissed pulling her legs free and escaping his grasp.

Marcus groaned and his hand shot outwards as he tried to wrap his arm around her waist again. She jumped out of bed and cursed as she remembered she wasn't wearing anything.

Kayleigh snatched the top sheet and wrapped it around her body, uncovering Marcus's naked form in the process. She screamed involuntarily and her head protested at the sound of her own voice.

The wine. How much wine did they actually have?

She hadn't been in London twenty-four hours and she already had a body-crushing hangover, a naked man in her bed and was late for her first day at work. 

"This can't be happening," she whispered, clutching the sides of her head.

"What's wrong?" the god in her bed asked in a very husky, very sexy tone.

Because while Marcus Burrows had always been good-looking, there was no denying that six years in London changed more than the man's teeth. He was in outrageous shape. His shoulders were broader than Kayleigh remembered. His arms were stronger and his legs... His legs...

Kayleigh lost her train of thought as images from the night before flashed before her eyes. She cast a sweeping look down her body and sure enough, red marks and bruises were scattered all over her pale skin.

What the hell was in that wine?

"Kay Kay, are you alright?"

She clutched the sheet closer to her body and directed her focus back to Marcus's face.

"Yes!" she asserted looking about the room until she found his shirt and boxers and threw them at him. "No, I have to be at Oxford Circus in twenty minutes."

Marcus checked his watch. "It's only ten minutes away. Take the Bakerloo line. You'll make it."

"I know, but I still need to get ready," Kayleigh whined pulling her hair up with a clip and fetching a towel.

Marcus eyed her carefully, his gaze stopping on her restless fingers picking at the poor towel. Kayleigh noticed the concern in his eyes and stopped fidgeting. Her grip tightened over the material instead.

She heard his steady breaths as he got dressed and sat back on the bed trying to tame his hair with his fingers. It went down to his shoulders and even in her anxious state, Kayleigh thought he looked absolutely delicious. 

"Do you... uh... do you want to talk about this?" he started trying to meet the girl's eyes. "I mean, we really should."

Kayleigh suddenly felt self-conscious and her heart was thrashing dangerously against her ribcage.

Of course, they should talk. They should have talked a long time ago. Or at least before they completely threw their senses out the window. But this was messy. This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have when she was running late for the biggest opportunity of her life. 

What had she done?

"Not now, okay?" she replied with a small smile. "I have to get ready. Just let yourself out."

She ran to the bathroom and when she was out of the shower five minutes later, Marcus Burrows was nowhere in sight.

#

Kayleigh walked into Kilton's House of Fashion at exactly 9:05 a.m. Her stomach was full of knots and her head was still flooded with images of a certain long-haired, straight-toothed demigod. She knew her memories from the night before, memories that ran long into the early hours of the morning, would cloud her focus for days to come, but she needed to keep a clear head for at least a couple of hours. She couldn't let anything ruin this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Kayleigh gave her name to the receptionist who gave her a tight-lipped smile in return.

"Ms Weston will be with you in a moment," the receptionist announced with a tone that Kayleigh felt was a bit too sarcastic.

She dragged her eyes around the vast entrance while she waited. It was beautiful, simple and classic, just like all Kilton collections. The walls and floor were covered in calacatta marble. The doors and furniture were either in clear glass or washed in dark blue paint with gold trimmings. All the surfaces were clean and seamless, and it was so quiet that Kayleigh wondered whether they were even open yet.

The sound of approaching heels made Kayleigh turn around just in time to see a woman in her early thirties dressed in a mid-length, figure-hugging, dark blue dress, sashaying across the hall. Her blond hair was tied back in a sleek, French braid and tied off with a burgundy ribbon. Her make-up was barely there except for her dark red lipstick.

The woman's sharp grey eyes riveted from Kayleigh's LV bag, to her all-black ensemble, registering her sage-polished nails and her Chanel lipstick and Kayleigh knew she had ticked every label, and lack thereof, in her brain.

She swallowed down her apprehension, or at least as much of it as she could, and extended her hand. "Ms Weston. I'm-"

"Late," Ms Weston finished factually, calmly and without a hint of emotion. "We start at nine o'clock sharp."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Kayleigh stuttered.

"Come. I'll show you to your department." 

Ms Weston moved back across the hall and through the gold elevator doors which had brought her down. She pressed 5 and held the doors open until Kayleigh stepped inside. "You'll be with Greta Borg, helping out on the bridal collection for the next four weeks. Then, you'll be transferred to another department based on, a) the exigencies of the House and/or b) your performance, which will be recorded on your reference letter and signed by Mr Maxwell Kilton himself. So, do yourself a favour, be on time and make it count."

The doors glided open and Ms Weston strode through a corridor that contrary to the hall downstairs, was busy and full of activity. The day was already in full motion, with workers laughing, bustling about with all types of fabric, skirting around mannequins and pushing trolleys of sequins, ribbons and trims. Kayleigh's eyes struggled to keep up, but her heart knew she was in designer heaven.

Ms Weston pointed out the important areas - storage and supply, restroom, pantry, fabrics, alterations - until they reached a large hall that made Kayleigh gasp out loud. It was full of natural light thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Large plants were used to split the room into sections where different bridal gowns were being stitched into glorious masterpieces.

"Who's the doe?" a rough voice said from behind them. Kayleigh detected an accent but it was so subtle she couldn't be sure.

A tall, skinny woman with a blond pixie cut, a strong jaw and sharp features had joined them. Kayleigh gripped the straps of her bag and gulped.

"This is Ms Kayleigh Moore. She is an intern at Kilton House of Fashion for the season and will be spending her first month in your wing. She is late and she is sorry and she won't do it again," Ms Weston drawled pointedly.

Kayleigh gave them both an apologetic smile as her eyes dropped to the floor and the heat rose to her cheeks. Then, Ms Weston started to beep and she pressed on her earpiece. 

"Yes? Noted. I'm coming down," she said brusquely. "Greta, they're here."

Kayleigh noticed the change in tone and when she sneaked a peek at her, she saw that her cool and calm composure was gone.

Greta, on the other hand, merely rolled her brown eyes and heaved a sigh. "Here we go!"

"Indeed," Ms Weston agreed though she seemed to miss the woman's sarcasm. "Get the champagne... and the samples. Where's the dress? Where's Jean Luc? She loves Jean Luc."

"He's on leave," Greta shrugged. "But everything is ready. Don't worry, Vicks, we're prepared."

Vicks gave her colleague a doubtful look before clicking her way to the lift again. As soon as the doors closed, Greta Borg started shouting instructions at the top of her lungs, making Kayleigh jump out of her skin.

"Okay, people! Show starts in three minutes. You know the drill! Get AK's dress out and turn on the chandelier. Only two-thirds of the bulbs, not all of them. Great! Mario, get the champagne and three flutes. The fiancé might be coming today as well. Make sure they're polished. We don't want another fiasco like last time."

As she spoke, the commotion tripled and lights flicked on and off until the large crystal chandelier in the middle of the hall glowed like a warm ball of fire. A soft, white princess dress with a train that was at least five metres long was wheeled underneath it.

It was breathtaking. It had a tight-fitting, square-necklined corset that opened up into a ball gown skirt. The whole thing was peppered with soft gold sequins and crystal beads that were heavier at the bottom, giving the impression that fairy dust was trickling up from the hem towards the waist. 

Kayleigh wasn't done admiring the piece when someone rushed past her with a tray and almost knocked her over. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and the contents spilled all over the grey parquet floor.

"Careful! This champagne costs over three hundred pounds!" a boy who seemed even younger than her scoffed. Meanwhile, Kayleigh dropped to her knees and started collecting her stuff from the floor.

"Clumsy is not fashionable, Kayleigh," she muttered to herself as she stuffed her sketches back into her leather binder. Then, she heard a distinct ding and saw the gold doors open once again.

Ms Weston was back, and this time she was followed by a tall, blond beauty in black jeans, a light-blue, Kilton Easy shirt and brown ankle boots that must not be on the market yet judging from the pristine, gold K on the side.

Behind them was a white-haired man in a dark grey suit, looking handsome despite his age. He was on the phone talking loudly and walked down the corridor as if he owned the place. Then, Ms Weston stepped to the side to allow the visitors to pass through and Kayleigh dropped her file from her hands again.

Finally getting a full view of the entourage, she recognised the visitors immediately. They were no other than Abigail and Maxwell Kilton, her role models and the directors of Kilton House of Fashion.

👒👗👜

Kayleigh sure is bumping into a lot of people in London.

What would you do if you were in her shoes? I know I'd freak out!

Let me know if you're liking the story so far through the comments and please don't forget to vote!