Who Asked You?

•Article 1: Prince Charming?•

Chapter 1

Tessa Charles

"Excuse me! Excu-me-" I sigh chewing the top of my pencil my blonde vibrant hair slowly fixing down my side.

"Yes, ma'am you have a question..." I hate these press conferences, I don't even know why I attend them I could be writing the new Winter catalogue, but no, instead I am sitting in front of a crowd answering questions with the same damn answers! Which mostly consists of the words: 'read my magazine'.

I accidently dropped my pencil and watched as it rolled away beneath their chairs, "Tessa, you are the editor and chief of KSÆxpress magazine I was wondering where you got the name for your magazine?" That's actually a good question.

When I used to live in France, which is where I had started with my passion for writing, I had fallen in love with the improper two face attitude of all the Frenchmen there, it was atrocious. They only ever showed respect when they caught the eye of a beautiful woman, and so I began to write about this behaviour and then it was taken in by an Editor from the times of Paris who decided to print it out since she had been a favoured lady of a Frenchman only to find out his words were too sweet and later it was revealed that he is an abusive husband to another woman. Quite sad really, I was taught by my mother and father-who are currently on vacation thanks to my anniversary present to the two of them; that if I wanted something, luck isn't going to get me all the way, I had to pitch in or what I wanted will slip through the cracks and wash away with my hope for success, well I certainly proved them wrong. And so after I had fixed the article in the paper, tabloids went crazy, from audacious compliments to heart tearing insults and my only response was...

"Who Asked You?" She looked at me gaping, her thick lined glasses forced her to look like some slutty office girl, mind you she had the help of her very tight clothing, feeling an ounce of rudeness I apologise but even I had to admit it was forced, "Sorry, that is the line I had used to make my name for my magazine, the concept is to express opinions without being judged," the questions progressed before finally, the meeting ended. "And that is exactly what KSÆxpress is all about, being able to express your opinion-or in my case, express my opinion without caring who likes it or not, but more specifically my aim is to actually try to persuade and entertain you all." Finishing the meeting my eyes linger on one of the reporters towards the back of the room, he is wearing a Chelsea soccer shirt, so I can only assume he's a football fan he actually looked Brazilian! But I couldn't mistake the light tan that indicated he was only half. Following through with their exit I slump backwards taking my bra out from the sleeve of my tight peplum shirt while kicking my cream wedges off.

"Great work boss," I turn to see my personal bodyguard, old man Oscar standing with his shoulders squared and a serious face put on his neck. I don't care if he knows I'm not wearing a bra especially since it's lying at his feet he has seen a lot more but is paid not to talk about it no matter how many quirky habits he encounters, I see that he finds it more entertaining than anything.

I'd be terrified of the guy if he were a stranger, I blame the steel boots and bald hair cut with the tattoos on his forearms, but it's good that he scares people away, nobody bothers me.

"Thank you, I would like to go home..." he trailed in front of me as I followed back jotting notes down for my next article.

The title is- No, Prince Charming does NOT exist.

So far all I have down is just a draft piece to the final product: 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your beautiful golden hair allow me to climb the golden strands then take you as a bride...so romantic, what I wouldn't do for a complete stranger to yell our unexpected marriage proposal at me from sixteen thousand feet down and be able to have hair long enough to let him climb. I mean, let's be honest...I'd probably have split ends to the roots! Not to mention I'll throw myself out trying to escape from the stuffed dragon in my wardrobe.