Peregrination
I awoke to my alarm at 5:45am, on December 21st, and leapt out of my bed with an excited giggle. In ten hours I would be driving to a historic chateau in the French countryside. I quickly showered and ate a small breakfast before attacking my, new, daily beauty routine. Deborah had hammered into me how important my appearance was, now that I was going to be seen, in France, with Mr. Morrison. My new routine included daily grooming (plucking, shaving, etc.), face scrub or peel, moisturizing, careful make-up application and hair styling. Deborah had only been able to successfully teach me two hair styles, both of which I barely pulled off. She had rolled her eyes and told me to go to a salon, to have my hair done, for special occasions.
Seeing myself in the mirror, I chuckled. I barely recognized myself. Never had I ever put this much thought or effort into my appearance, and I felt slightly conceited for being pleasantly surprised by the results. My pale skin had been brightened with bronzer and a hint of blush, my light blue-gray eyes were enhanced by the subtle strokes of eye shadow; and, my lips looked lush and full with the shimmery coral lipstick. My curly hair had been gathered up into a slightly messy chignon, with a few stray tendrils framing my face. It felt like a stranger staring back at me. I glanced at the clock and gasped when I realized I had 15 minutes left before the car arrived to pick me up. I grabbed my clothes off the bed, clothing Deborah had assured me were travel appropriate, and carefully slipped into them. It was a three piece dress suit; with a grey pencil skirt, grey cropped jacket and a fitted cream silk blouse. My version of travel clothes were jeans and a T-shirt. These were just stretchy over glorified work clothes. And, to top it all off, all the shoes Deborah had chosen for me had heels. With a dissatisfied groan I grabbed the sexy little burgundy Valentino heels and a matching clutch purse. I dragged my luggage into the hallway and, wearing the sexy open toed designer heels, I stood in front of the hallway mirror doing a quick once over. Standing at 5'10, with the heels, my trim figure was accentuated by the modest, but perfectly fitted, suit. I hoped to god this would be acceptable enough for Mr. M, because I didn't think I was capable of much more. I was already exhausted and frustrated by the amount of effort I had already put in to my looks. Either way, it didn't matter because at that moment I heard a sharp knock at the door. I opened it to find an elderly man in a black suit and hat standing at full attention.
"Miss Tanner, my name is Felix and I will be your chauffeur today," he gave me an appreciative head to toe glance, "may I take your bags?"
"Of course, thank you Felix."
I handed him the two largest pieces and carried my own purse, shoe bag and carry-on bag. He had put up a bit of an argument but I explained that they were far too valuable to put into anyone else's care, which was a lie. I believe he took some offense, to my not trusting him with my possessions; but, I would rather that than hurting his pride with the truth. He looked so old and frail, that I thought he might topple over from the extra weight, hence my refusal.
I accompanied the elderly man down the elevator, exiting on the private subterranean parking level. Felix walked over to a sleek black stretch limo and opened the trunk to deposit my bags. I quickly ran -- if that is what you can call it in 4 inch heels -- over to Felix and grabbed my bag before he could heft it into the trunk. He looked at me in puzzlement.
"I'm sorry Felix. It's just that this is Mr. Morrison's car. I will be traveling in another car to the airport. Has Mr. Morrison already had his bags picked up?" I asked him while I gathered my luggage around my feet, looking for the small sedan I had ordered to take me to the airport.
"Yes Miss. Mr. Morrison's bags are in the trunk and he is waiting in the car. He wishes for you to travel with him to the airport, so I took the liberty of sending away the other car." He looked slightly smug as he informed me of the change in plan.
I sighed, a breath of defeat, and handed the old chauffeur my bags. Tensing more with every step, I slipped into the limo as Felix held the door for me. I awkwardly tumbled into the wide leather back seat, as my skirt and heels limited my movement and thwarted my attempt at a smooth entry. Pushing into a sitting position, I looked up and across from me to find Mr. M staring at me with a slightly amused smirk on his face. He was sitting back, relaxed, with a scotch in his hand and his briefcase open on his lap. I looked away and focused on fixing my appearance. I yanked my skirt down my legs, smoothed my shirt out, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and tried to find a comfortable sitting position, which did not involve flashing my boss.
"I see Deborah was able to work magic." His cool monotone voice mused.
It could have been meant as a compliment, but I took his mocking tone to mean it as an insult.I bit the inside of my check, holding back my temper. However, I could not prevent the hot blush, colouring my cheeks, of my temper; hopefully, the bronzer would mask it. I decided silence was my best option; so, I would not say a word unless Mr. Morrison required me to do so. I needed my job too badly and wanted this opportunity so much that I was not going to risk it over a few glib comments. After 20 minutes of riding in complete silence, Mr. Morrison looked up from his work and reached across the limo, holding some papers out for me.
"This is the itinerary, which I would like you to go over, to ensure you know what we will be doing and who we will be meeting with. It is important you know who everyone is when you meet them; and, I want you to ensure you make eye contact with every person you speak to. You work for me. You are no one else's subordinate, just mine. For everyone else, you will portray the confidant and professional attitude of a highly respected employee of Morrison Management; so, no more looking down and averting your eyes. I don't pay you to inspect floors. Do you understand?" he asked authoritatively.
I tore my gaze away from the car's carpeted floor, to look up into the intense green eyes of David Morrison.
"Yes Sir." I coolly, calmly and confidently replied.
To my shock, he chuckled lightly and a faint smile curved his lips. I felt like I was seeing him for the first time; which, in a way was true. Never had I ever made eye contact with him, and usually his head was bent while he read through some form of document. I mostly saw the top of his head and his profile. Now however, I was clearly seeing the man responsible for an empire. He looked so much younger than I expected. He looked no older than 35 or 40. He had thick wavy black hair, gorgeous emerald eyes, a flawless olive complexion, a sharp nose and perfect lips. Huh, so the asshole was hot; figures. I realized I was staring when he cleared his throat and I looked back up to his eyes to see his eyebrow knowingly cocked. Again, I blushed but this time from embarrassment; however, I did not avert my gaze.
"Very good. Tell me Miss Tanner. Do you not have any family or significant people in your life that you are abandoning for the holidays?" he asked bemusedly.
