In love with fashion and you

Ariyah Malhotra straightened out her navy-blue cooperate skirt and took one more weary glance at her reflection in the full length mirror.

"Perfect!" she muttered to herself.

She hadn't slept a wink last night thinking about her interview, the thought of it made knots form in her stomach. She snatched her bag from the bed and dashed outside.

It was quite early but that was ok since she'd planned to walk there. Life in London was expensive and it wouldn't surprise her if the oxygen was taxed.

Everything would be fine once she got this job though. The company was the largest fashion brand in London, known for styling Aristocrats and Royals.

Their staff were handpicked and only the best designers could work for them. The pay was ridiculously huge too. She would be able to afford a better apartment and three square meals. Also, she could begin to find out more about Mama.

Ariyah and Baba had gotten into an argument regarding her coming to London. She'd have to make him see things her way. With one more shaky breath she pushed the glass doors of the building and let herself in.

************

James Darville sat like a sculptured stature watching the stuttering man Infront of him give a presentation he wasn't impressed with.

"This a-are the final sketches for the fashion week s-sir." Mr Harris announced dropping the sketchbook on the desk.

James remained unmoving. His devilish gaze hidden behind tinted gold rimmed spectacles. He was a tall, middle-aged man with slick-back brown hair.

Mr Harris dabbed at the sweat forming on his brow as the air grew thicker with undeniable tension. Noone in the design design department seemed to be drawing in oxygen.

James flung the sketchbook sending ripped pages flying across the room, along with any hopes they had left. He stood to his feet, his expression darkening, his jawline pressed in a firm line.

"I don't know what you call that junk but it just cost you all your paycheck."

"B-but sir, we've worked tirelessly, some days overnight to come up with the designs--" Miss Parrot pled.

"--Then show me the results!!" James barked. "I want everything redone and submitted not a minute later than 12 noon tomorrow. It seems you've had too much time on your hands."

A man burst into the room clutching his bag just then, diverting everyone's attention. James tore his glasses off, his brows furrowing dangerously.

"Do you work here?"

"Good morning Mr Darville," the man squeaked, becoming aware of his presence. "Sir, it's my wife. She has lukemia and I had to rush--"

James raised his hand in the air "I don't give bloody heck about your excuses. You're permanently relieved to be with your wife."

"Please sir, I need this job," the crying man grabbed Mr Darville's trousers, pulling his leg. In one quick sweep, James pulled his leg away and quickly disinfected it.

He stormed out of the office with his PA trailing after him.

"He's the Devil himself." Miss Bennett mumbled.

"I've got a baby on the way and now I've got no salary." Mr Harris wailed.

"Bloody idiots!" James muttered to himself. "Have a change of clothes brought to my office immediately."

"Yes sir." His PA responded leaving him.

Mr Darville was heading for the lift when an ongoing conversation behind a door made him slow down his strides before stopping altogether.

"...I was the best student in the fashion department. The top of my class. Five top fashion industries wanted me but this company has always been my dream. Fashion is not just a job to me it's my passion."

James could not believe his ears. Wasn't that a new employee? Rather one who had no assurance of being hired yet. Did she think being top of her class meant anything to him? Then she had no idea where she was at.

Tired of her endless prattling, James let himself into the room making Freddy, the interviewer, turn pale white.

The lady who sat across from him seemed rather oblivious of the situation or his very presence and continued talking freely. This only mounted James irritation even more. His presence had always commanded respect and fear.

He cleared his throat, finally succeeding in getting the attention of the young woman who turned to look at him.

She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, her Sun-tanned skin and ebony black hair told him she was not a native. The slight trace of her accent finished of the analysis, she was either from India or Pakistan. And boy was she alluring as the full moon, her model-like features were finished off with icy blue eyes that threatened to throw him off focus.

"Good morning sir. If you're here for the interview, please you'll have to wait your turn."

James turned his head with a smirk "That's a first," he muttered.

Ariyah looked from Freddy, who was begging her with his eyes to stop, to James and changed her theory.

"I'm so sorry, you must work here. It's a pleasure to meet you." She walked over to him and offered her hand. "I'm Ariyah Malhotra."

James cleared his throat again ignoring her hand. "I hate to disappoint you but we have no need of your services."

Whatever smile Ariyah had disappeared in a moment, replaced by a questioning look.

"You're joking aren't you?" She peered at him intently but saw nothing that gave him away. "Well, whoever you may be sir, I hate to inform you that it's not your call to make. Mr Freddy here is my interviewer."

If Mr Darville was taken aback by her words he did not show it. She wasn't even a staff yet but she was already so cocky.

"Miss, you should--" Freddy stops halfway at a signal from James, leaving Ariyah wondering.

As if on cue, Henry his PA knocks on the door and let's himself in. "Mr Darville, your change of clothes are ready. I've been looking all over for you."

"Mr Darville?" Ariyah exclaimed piecing things together. "As in, the CEO of Fashion Revolution" she gulped.