OWNED

CHAPTER 1

Yet another forlorn, unilluminated and dusky day managed to seep into the monotony of Seattle skylines and corporate offices buzzing in and about with their usual crowd. She rested herself on a wooden bench, a foam cup with coffee in one hand and a buttered bagel in another as she watched employees dressed in tight fitted pencil skirts and tailored suits, a few bearded men with steaming cups of tea in their hands and a few women with cell phones pressed against their ears, eyebrows scrunched in concentration and a few others rushing, dodging the crowd, not wanting to be late for their first day of work right after a boozy weekend.

As Meghan tried to blend in with the crowd, she gleamed internally, her heart fluttering to the realization that despite walking among these people, how different she was, the sole architect of her own glamorous world, answerable to only herself. Glitters and gold; it wasn't always this way, she hugged herself tighter to escape the cold. She retrieved a pair of jingling keys to open her boutique, set in a quaint place, a little away from the hustle of the rest. This was her nirvana, her creative juices begging to be released, this was who she was.

She set her foot in, her eyes twinkling in excitement for what today held but it soon evaporated when she had to face a twisted client on call. Though this was a part of her work, convincing clients, while also keeping in mind their requirements and tastes, sometimes, just sometimes there were exasperating ladies, extremely picky, who just wouldn't budge from their designs. These she despised but then there was nothing she couldn't handle; except the toll it took on her temper.

''No, I have mentioned to you this for the hundredth time now, I do not have to comply to everything she tells me she wants!'', Meghan penned down a few contacts frustrated on a stickie note and pressed it against the chest of her assistant, Steve.

''Steve, call them as soon as you can, I want to know if they have the fabric I am looking for, tell them money is not a problem'', Steve looked down at the list of contacts and smirked.

''Sweetie you know this is an impossible task when you've already contacted all the well- known centers in town for this'', he lifted an embellished copper sample between his fingers like it was a relic.

''That's why I've put you up for this task. Now quick, I want you off my sight and at your desk working on this right now'', Meghan scowled at Steve as he briskly made his way to the table making a few calls.

Steve was more than just an assistant to Meghan, he was one of the few gems she possessed, someone who never went behind her back, leaking designs and creating tantrums, something she had dealt with most recently. Meghan sourly looked out of her glass window as the thought of Mark crossed her mind. He had been assisting her for quite some time until she realized he had been sneaking her designs bit by bit, trying to create his own label.

As common and meagre these occurrences were in the fashion industry, Meghan was not just any of those ones to take such things lightly. She had slogged her asses off to get her brand this recognition and plagiarism was just not her style; she would screw anyone who even attempted to try it with her. It was Steve who eventually found out and showed Mark his place. He was too good looking for his age, in his mid-forties all salt and pepper hair, tanned and muscular complimenting his dark brown eyes.

Meghan never really expressed well, but deep down they both knew he was the Joey to her Phoebe.

''Missy after what I've pulled out, I need a raise. The fabric will be delivered here at the boutique by tomorrow evening'', Steve handed over the sample back to Meghan.

''A raise for being a pain in the ass while I'm trying to cope with deadlines for the Met Gala, I don't think so'', Meghan pouted.

''Can we at least take a lunch break now'', Steve pulled Meghan from her chair and dragged her to the lunch room.