Find Me Alastar

We shake hands and I am jolted by a shock of electricity. Oh no, there it is again.

I force a nervous smile. “Hello.” I glance up at his gorgeous face and his eyes hold mine.

“Where are you from?” he asks.

“Australia.”

“How long are you here for?”

Oh, that voice is dreamy, I swallow nervously. “Twelve months, for now.”

“I see.” His velvety voice surrounds me.

“Star is an artist and we are selling some of his early work at our next auction,” Mark tells me.

“Oh.” My eyes glance between the two men. Get out, Mark. I want to continue that kiss Mr. Star

started the other night.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Emerson?” Mr. Star asks with a raised brow.

I nod nervously. God, this man makes me turn into a giddy school girl. “I am,” I breathe.

He smirks, knowing exactly what he is doing. “What has been the highlight of your stay so far?”

My eyebrows rise. “Saturday night ended pretty well,” I whisper.

A trace of a smirk crosses his face as his dark eyes hold mine. I start to feel the electricity fill the

room.

The moment is broken by Mark. “What did you do Saturday night? I thought you went to Brielle’s.”

My eyes widen and look back to Mark. “Oh, yes.” I feel my face redden. How did I just forget that

Mark is in the room? “I mean the movie we watched really floated my boat.”

Mark frowns. “Whatever takes your fancy, I suppose.”

Did I really just say that out loud?

Mr. Star smiles at the floor.

“I have to go. N-nice to meet you,” I stammer and I close the door behind me. I cover my face with my

hands. Oh dear God, I will never live this down. The movie we watched really floated my boat…

Where in the hell do I get this shit? And why do I say it out loud?

I walk back to my desk in disgust at myself and I fall into my seat, coming to the conclusion that I am

socially handicapped. I get back to my job. There are so many things to file that I now have piles sitting

all over my desk and even a few piles on the floor. Half an hour later, I am on my knees trying to find the

file for Anderson. This is a totally shit job. I didn’t fly all the way over her to file shit and whoever did

this job before me has royally messed it up. Nothing is where it is supposed to be. I rummage around on

my hands and knees as I try to find the missing file.

An expensive pair of black shoes and blue jeans comes into view, standing next to my desk. I peer up.

It’s the god.

He smirks down at me.

“Can I help you?” I whisper in mortification from my place on the floor.

He smirks. “I am just after one of your business cards.”

I think my mouth nearly drops open. “You are?”

He nods once. “I may have a customer relations emergency.”

I shake my head in embarrassment and stand up in the most awkward manner possible. “Of course.”

Oh no. “I haven’t got my business cards yet.”

His eyes hold mine as he waits for me to work it out.

“Oh, I know.” I quickly grab a piece of paper from my desk and scribble down my personal mobile

number and nervously pass it over to him.

He takes it, and I watch him fold it meticulously before putting it into his pocket.

“Goodbye,” he breathes as his eyes hold mine once more.

I force a smile but no words will come out of my mouth.

With my heart beating through my chest, I watch as he turns and walks out of the office.

Travis, who has been pretending not to listen, turns in his chair and wheels over to me.

“Did you just give him your number?”

I smirk as I watch Star disappear into the lift. “I think I did.”

I ‘m on a mission as I pull open the door of Heirloom. It’s just gone dark outside and I’m starving hungry

but determined to make myself a healthy dinner, not just grab junk food on the way home. I’m going to

be the size of a house if I keep eating as I have been and I need to try and get into some kind of routine.

This holiday eating has got to stop. The doorbell announces my arrival and the little old lady comes out© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

from her back room.

“Hello Emmaline.” She smiles.

I smile with a frown. “It’s Emerson.”

“Oh, that’s right, dear. I’m sorry.”

I smile. She really is a sweet old pawn shark.

“I have your letters.” She bends down and brings out an old, dark wooden box with stampings burned

into the sides of it.