"Hello?" Pt. 1

Skype 2

Ok, so I've literally just finished writing this. It's unedited because I'm too scared to go back and read through it... I'll be tempted to make changes, but this is how I've always imagined it playing out.

I asked you before which of the characters will have their heart broken, and today we find out. 

Before we start, want to guess which it'll be? Daniel or Sophie?

Sarah, xx

~*~*~

"Here are the sketches you requested," Jasmine Gough, my assistant, said as she placed a manila envelope on my corner table. Shuffling the paperwork around the space, she set down a bundle of articles and handed me a Starbucks coffee. "That's your third coffee of the day and those are the articles you requested from the staff writers. You have a call waiting on your Skype, by the way."

I nodded. "I'm aware," I say, not lifting my eyes from the work I was currently busying myself with. The last few days, my head hadn't been in the game and I've been playing catch up all morning, meaning I was finally coming to the end of my workload. I picked up the photographs from a previous shoot, my notes marked on the back of the proofs, and handed them to Jasmine, whose critical stare had been on me the entire time. "Take these to Nigel. Oh, and Jasmine? I love you and I value you, but do not remind me of how many coffees I've had. It annoys me and it makes you sound like my mother. Leave."

Jasmines harrumphed and walked out of my office, slamming the glass door closed as she went. I couldn't help the smile that stretched across my lips at the attitude she gave me; back in London, no one would dream of talking to me the way Jasmine did, nor would they ever behave like that in front of me. Only in America do you get someone as straight forward and direct as Jasmine Gough. As much as I liked Kizzy, and as much as I had tolerated Rachel towards the end, Jasmine was in a league of her own. She was, unlike many that walked these hallowed hallways, content with being an assistant. While others around her were social climbers, biding their time before they advanced their careers whichever way necessary, Jasmine hardly cared about any of that aspect of our business. She lived for fashion and creativity and any job that would allow her to come up close and personal to haute couture fashion and their designers, that was the job she wanted.

It was, in a way, quite cunning of her. While others were busy backstabbing and manipulating their way into that exclusive circle, Jasmine had an instant in with me. I had worked hard for my position and I was lucky that I got to mingle with the elite designers in the world, see collections before they debuted, and go to Fashion Week. Because of my position, wherever I went, Jasmine came too. Need to jump on a place to see Karl Lagerfeld? Jasmine, pack an overnight bag and grab your passport. Preview of the new Marchesa collection? Jasmine, get in the car. That couture dress that Versace sent me as a bribe for a glowing article? Wasn't my style, but it was Jasmine's size.

Like I said, Jasmine is cunning.

"Nigel said that your notes were helpful," my assistant said as she returned to my office after five minutes. It was a little scary how fat paced she could be, going from one place to another in a blink of an eye. "You have another call waiting on Skype. Want me to answer it?"

Before I had the chance to stop her, Jasmine pressed the 'ACCEPT' option on screen and beamed up at the camera. "Oh, hey, Daniel!" She said cheerfully. From the speakers, I could hear Daniel asking if I was around. Jasmine, if it were possible, smiled even more. "Of course she is. She's right here."

She spun the laptop around to face me and gave me a salute as she smirked and left my office. I grabbed the stack of Post-It notes that were on the table and scribbled, 'Kill Jasmine. ASAP,' on the first sheet. I set it inside my Smythson diary under tomorrow's date.