Leah Ashton – A Girl Less Ordinary (страница 6)

This was kind of nuts.

She blinked, but smiled on, undeterred. ‘That’s your opinion. Personally, that’s what I’d call dwelling on our past as—clearly—we’ve both moved on. I don’t remember either of us sending Christmas cards.’

Touché.

Yet, he still didn’t know quite what to make of this situation.

He wanted her to leave—but didn’t.

His confusion bothered him—after all, Jake Donner thought in black and white. Binary ones and zeros.

He’d never thought he’d see her again. It was a shock … no. Not even that. A surprise. Combined with the recently completed board meeting, it was hardly unexpected that his thought process would be a little … muddled.

But, one thing was clear.

‘Here,’ he said, ‘I’m going to make this easy. I don’t want an image consultant. So I’ll tell Cynthia, and—’

‘No!’

It was by far and away the most expressive word she’d uttered so far.

He watched her as she took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders slightly. ‘I mean, that’s unnecessary. I’m an experienced image consultant, Jake, with one hundred per cent positive feedback from my clients,’ she said. ‘My firm isn’t the biggest, but my track record is outstanding. As you know, Cynthia is one of my clients. But I’ve also assisted some of the most famous and powerful people in Sydney.’

She listed a few names, from singers, to television journalists to chief executives.

‘I assure you, you won’t find anyone better qualified than myself to help you,’ she said, finishing her little pitch.

‘That’s all well and good,’ he said, ‘but what if I don’t think I need an image consultant at all?’

She laughed, the first time her expression had diversified from its mask of professionalism.

Jake crossed his arms defensively, but he refused to ask for the cause of her mirth. He had no doubt she was about to tell him.

Just as soon as she—finally—stopped laughing.

Ella did her very best to silence the last little hiccups of laughter, frankly appalled at her reaction.

What had happened to Jake being ‘just another client’? As if she’d ever fall into fits of giggles with anyone else.

It was basically Image Consultant 101: Don’t laugh at your client. Ever.

Not exactly the ideal way to build up someone’s self-confidence, was it? And that was kind of the whole point of her job.

More importantly—he already didn’t want anything to do with her. It radiated from him in waves.

So, yeah, hysterical giggles were far from the most intelligent way to change his mind.

She cleared her throat. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘That was uncalled for.’

Jake was obviously waiting for her to elaborate, watching her with an oddly contradictory intensity—as if he was pushing her away while simultaneously filing her somewhere for future reference. Whatever it was, it did all sorts of unwanted things to her equilibrium.

Which just wasn’t acceptable. She’d learnt years ago how to present herself at her absolute best in all situations. The old Eleanor would’ve ducked her chin, and slouched, and blushed under the intensity of Jake’s attention.

It bothered the new Ella that her body was trying its best to do all those things. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to fight to project the confident, polished image she’d so carefully crafted.

It had been long enough that she hadn’t thought she was pretending any more—that she just was Ella. But five minutes with Jake and if she wasn’t careful, she’d be sixteen again.

And she was never going to let that happen.

Deliberately, she restraightened her already perfectly straight shoulders. Took a deep breath. Remembered the affirmations she’d once stuck to her bathroom mirror:

Confident. Polished. Successful.

‘Jake, you’re a walking “Before Picture”. Look at you,’ she said—and she was relieved her voice was back to cool and collected. ‘Hair that you don’t cut often enough—and I’d guess that when you do you go to those “no need to book” salons?’ Jake’s stony lack of denial she interpreted as a yes. ‘You’re wearing a T-shirt that looks at least five years old, your jeans have a rip in them, and to say your shoes were scuffed would be kind.’

To be fair, he did look rather hot in his super, super casual get-up—the well-washed pale grey fabric of his shirt outlining the strength of his chest, and the worn jeans hanging low on his hips. But an image that was going to sell millions of phones for Armada? No, not so much. Unless Armada’s new corporate look was ‘scruffy’.

Jake crossed his arms in a slow, deliberate movement. ‘So I’ll go shopping.’

Ella took a measured breath.

‘To someone unfamiliar with the importance of personal appearance in the corporate world, I can see how my services may seem easily replaced by a trip to your local shopping centre.’ She paused, skimming her gaze down Jake’s lean form. ‘However, over the next few weeks I’ll demonstrate to you the transformational impact of personal image. We’ll also explore and develop your own personal brand through my media-training services.’

Jake’s expression was someplace between scepticism and contempt. ‘Personal brand, Eleanor—really? People actually talk like that, and think it means—or makes a difference to—anything?’

‘Yes,’ she said, refusing to be rattled. ‘People do. Many people. And while you may be in denial you do need my help. Help with your image—and the way you handle the media and the general public. Open and approachable are not two words anyone would ever associate with you.’

‘I wouldn’t want them to,’ he said. ‘My life is my business.’

‘Of course it is,’ Ella said. ‘And with my assistance, you’ll have far more control over the pieces of your life you choose to reveal—and those you choose to keep private.’

To hide.

Jake shrugged dismissively. ‘You’re a bit too late for that. The media dug up my past years ago. They can write what they like. I’m just not going to help them out.’

He was right. The media had splashed his past across the more tabloid of Australia’s newspapers and magazines. The disadvantaged childhood. The prescription drug-addicted mother. The absent father who’d squeezed every cent he could out of Jake’s fame by talking to any magazine that approached him.

And, of course, the women he’d dated. More than one had sold their stories within what must have been moments of the end of their liaison with Jake.

Although, come to think of it, Ella couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen that type of article. Did he have a girlfriend now?

No. He was just another client.

It wasn’t any of her business.

‘If you give them something, Jake, you can take back control. The media won’t need to write lies in place of a truth you give them.’

He shook his head, rejecting her words.

‘There’s no avoiding it, Jake—the media is key to this campaign. So you’re going to have to learn to play the game for a few weeks.’

‘I’m not a child,’ Jake said, walking past her and closer to the windows. The rain had become heavier and so Jake was gazing at little more than a wall of water. ‘I can play nice. I don’t need lessons.’

This time the smallest of frustrated sighs did slip out. ‘You’re committed to the campaign. And my services will make a difference. I promise you that, after a few sessions with me, you’ll barely recognise yourself.’

He met her gaze. ‘That’s exactly what I’m worried about.’

She blinked. Normally her clients couldn’t wait to begin their transformation. Ella understood that, understood the need to grow and change. Jake— so apparently happy to ignore what the rest of the world thought of him, and so reluctant to concede anything to conform—she had a lot of trouble getting her head around.

She always had. In that way, at least, he hadn’t changed at all.

But she could do this. She had to.

‘While it would appear I’m not going to convince you today—I will convince you. You need me, Jake.’

With his back to her, Jake shrugged. ‘I seriously doubt that.’

Ella’s jaw clenched.

‘Give me two hours.’

He turned back towards her, a rapid movement in stark contrast to his default speed of languid. Maybe, finally, she’d piqued his interest. ‘For what?’

‘Proof,’ she said. She mimicked his casual shrug of before. ‘That’s all.’

‘And if you fail—that’s it. You’ll walk away—leaving me image-consultant free?’

She nodded. ‘Exactly. Although it’s possible the Armada board may disagree with this arrangement.’