New York Romance

COMMENT PLEASE!
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I am Grace Shelbourne, twenty four year old, super achiever, Chief Editor, Xavier and Nox Inc. who's CEO was too busy with their car company, energy company, security, banking etc etc to bother with us publisher freaks. Okay so what does a girl do, when she finds out that her boyfriend had been cheating on her?
1.Cry, weep, yell- all kinds of emotional excesses.
2.Go shag another man
3. Binge eat
4. Shop.
5. Talk to friends.
6. Shop
7.Sleep.
8. . . . . . .
I tried to recall all the fifty options I'd read in the bible, Cosmo about getting over loser boyfriends.
I couldn't remember. I just couldn't.
My well planned life had turned into this bizarre chick-lit material saga five days ago when I'd gone into my boyfriend, Blake's apartment, no penthouse and found him shagging a blonde.
I'd dumped my set of keys, and rushed out of the house.
I ignored the 15 missed calls, 25 messages and 100 voice mails he'd left.
Luckily, we'd only been dating for two months, so it wasn't like I was heartbroken, but it hurt. Its not fair, but it hurt so much. But I'd sworn I wouldn't cry. Alright, so I might have leaked a little salt water into my feather pillows till about 2 in the morning, but I wasn't heartbroken which was saying something.

The next day, I'd just been regaling the entire female staff on the 22nd floor of our Manhattan office building with the details, when the same blonde walked in, with mascara running down her eyes and in a tight red dress, that was sexy but not indecent. She was closely tailed by a really stunning brunnete who would have burnt up the front cover of Vogue even in tweety bird pajamas, with an equally sad face.
Okay. Dior dress and water soluble mascara?
That just didn't fit. Nor did it make sense, when, crying, the blonde hugged me and started swearing about what a jerk Blake was.
Hold on a minute! I wanted to scream, but held my horses.
A pack of Kleenex and a bottle of Evian later, she introduced herself and the other, quieter, but sadder woman, "I'm sorry for crashing in like this, but I simply had to see you. I'm Leona Wills and this is Andy Rivers."
Just because the blonde chick was crying, did not mean I liked her. Noway. I was close to needing therapy after watching her with my boyfriend, even if it was for thirty seconds.
So I merely settled for nodding in her direction. Even though my best friend Alice had herded the rest of the crowd away to work, so I could have some privacy, I could tell that all ears were tuned into our conversation.
Sensing my tension Andy spoke in her calm voice, "Grace. I know this is an awkward situation. I took Leona's appearance worse than you did. I chucked a vase at her. But what we have to say is important."
I nodded, indicating they should proceed. I'd wrapped my arms around myself, a natural defence stance, but I was willing to listen. I mean no one likes to have vases thrown at them.
Leona started in a rush," That evening, just after you stormed out, I naturally got suspicious as to why you had Blake's house keys. He tried to play it down saying you were just a friend. But even though I'm a blonde, I found that hard to believe. We had a huge row which ended in my walking out on him."
She took a deep breath. I could tell it was costing her a lot to say this, "The next day, I felt I ought to talk to Blake about us. I mean we'd been dating for two years , I couldn't just breeze out one night. I went back to his apartment, and. . . . . . .he was there with Andy."
She stopped, her cheeks scarlet, her eyes watery.
God! If I felt betrayed after two months, this girl had the right to scream bloody murder.
Andy took up the narrative, steel in her voice, that I'm certain was to hide her own pain.
God, we really needed a tub of chocolate ice cream to help us.
"Leona's being polite. She found us in the same position as you found them in. Difference was, she stuck around to battle it out. Turns out Blake had been playing both of us for the past two years. He'd started dating us at almost the same time. And you were the latest addition to his harem."
What the fuck!
What the fuck?
What in the bloody hell?
I finally found my voice, and managed to choke out, "I'm so sorry. I am really sorry. I mean I was sitting here feeling so miserable, and my grief doesn't even start to compare to yours. I mean, mine's more a hit on the ego. But in your case. . . . . ."
Leona offered a shaky smile, "I just wanted to speak to both of you, because, I guess while my friends have been great, but only you guys could understand how it feels."
It was one of those moments when you feel a connection with strangers. We'd all been hurt, but Leona's taken the initiative to come and sort this out.
I was thankful to her. Had she not cleared it up, I'd have spent so much energy working up hate for her.
Andy smiled, "How bout we meet up for coffee sometime?"
I perked up. Nothing like girl time to get over a guy," That's a great idea. Do you guys mind if I get Alice with me?"
Leona shook her head, "Not at all. The more the merrier. How about we make it a girl's day out instead of just coffee?"
Andy smiled, "Saturday then."

Five seconds. It took five seconds for my cartel to swarm around me the moment the other two girls had left.
The story'd just got juicier.
When I finished, Myrtle, an intern who worked with us part time muttered, "The next time a guy approaches me I'm getting my cousin in NYPD to run a check on him."
Laughing, and feeling much better than I had in the past two days, I threw myself back into work.
But not before I'd secured Alice's promise to join the gang on Saturday.

I stood in front of the mirror trying on clothes to wear.
The plush carpet nearly swallowed up my tiny feet. There was no way even my huge paycheck could pay for this apartment, but Dad sure as hell could.
One of the wealthiest men on the Forbe's list, Matthew Shelbourne was a force to reckon with. While he'd whole heartedly agreed that I should work and stand on my own two feet, and be independent from two very adoring, and stinking rich parents, he'd drawn the line at my sharing a flat.
Rather un-reluctantly, I had agreed to his paying for my flat and even agreed to keeping his credit card. But only for clothes. Honestly.
The basics I took care of myself.
I know. I know. I was born after God checked all the stars, except the one that dealt with my romance sector.
I sent up a silent prayer, "No worries St. Peter. You forgot my love life, but you gave me a huge lot more to make up for it."
Vogue says, to feel good, you have to look good.
The knee length khaki skirt, with an army green sweater looked pretty hot even though I say so myself.
I proceeded to brush my waist length wavy black hair, which I simply could not bear to cut.
Putting on some music, Simon and Garfunkle to be precise, I sang along and twirled as I got ready, not realizing, that I had an audience.

Troy detested L shaped buildings.
One side always looked into some other flats, no matter how hard you tried.
His realtor, who's mantra with rich client's was-the more expensive, the better, had assured him, that since he had the penthouse, the view wouldn't be an inconvenience.
Well right now, the view wasn't unpleasant, but it affected parts of his anatomy, that really wasn't pleasant when he was trying to concentrate on the files that gave him an overview of the publishing sector of his father's company.

Just a floor below his, was an open window. The curtains had fallen slightly open.
And there was a girl.
Dancing.
Fully dressed of course. He wasn't a pervert.
But it was refreshing to watch someone dance with such abandon, with a brush in her hand.
He was disappointed when she disappeared from view.
But he perked up again when she came out into the balcony in the morning sunlight, talking into her cell phone. The balcony was closer to his own terrace, which allowed him to observe her carefully.
She had an average height, 5'4 by his estimation.
Pale skinned, with luscious black hair tumbling down what he was sure was a sexy back, what looked like blue eyes, and a deliciously spectacular figure, curvy and slender in just the right places, Troy wanted to hug his realtor.
He was right- the view wasn't going to be a problem.

Having given mom a blow by blow account of my meeting with Leona and Andy, I realized that I was running late.
I called the reception for her car and by the time I'd grabbed my Fendi hold all, and slipped into matching olive green stiletto heels, and reached the lobby, the smiling valet, was waiting with my car.
It was a pretty mean drive.
I regretted the slightly drunken evening I'd spent with my parents in Tuscany, when I'd gushed about the car, Edward, yes the Twilight Edward had bought Bella in Breaking Dawn.
Sure I'm 24, but romance is romance.
And Edward is Edward.
Sigh.
Back to the issue, even in his woozy state, Dad had been taking notes.
Back in New York, I'd found the shiny black brother of the monster car in the book.
But thankfully this was New York, where the streets had plenty of sexy cars to stare at, so mine really didn't stand out.

Twenty minutes later all four of us were starting the day with huge NY hot dogs.
Given the retail therapy day we'd planned for ourselves, we needed to keep our energy levels high.

I'm in love. Love. Love. I could see pink-red hearts popping up in front of my eyes.
If Coco had been alive, I'd have kissed her patent leather clad feet.
It was a strapless red velvet-silk gown, that hugged my body and then gently flared into a chapel train.
I admired herself in the fitting room and then drew the curtain to allow the boutique manager and the girls to see her.
Alice whistled, "That's a keeper sweety. Buy it. Or I'm giving it to you as an early birthday present."
Andy smiled appreciatively, "I'll chip in!"
Leona giggled, "I'll throw in matching shoes."
The boutique manager too was smiling widely.
I rolled my eyes, "Of course I'm taking it. It’s like it was made for me. It’s like we both were destined for each other."
Alice gave the other two females a pointed glance, "See what I meant about her conducting love affairs with inanimate objects."
I happily picked out the matching satin sky high heels while Leona replenished her work wardrobe (she was a lawyer).
Once we finished billing, and were stuffing back our wallets, the spot lights above made something red in both wallets glint red.

And then I saw red. It was the credit card that Blake had forced me into taking, insisting that as his girlfriend, I should have access to his account.
When I finally looked up, I saw that Andy too was holding an identical card.
Grabbing our stuff, we headed out in silence.
Leona spoke, a crafty glint in her blue eyes, "You know, we could put those cards to good use."
"Draw lines on his flesh and then sprinkle salt on the wounds? "I suggested helpfully.
"Stuff it up a few important holes in his body?" threw in Alice.
"Use it for the rest of the day?" questioned Andy.
"You read my mind," smirked Leona.
"Bloody hell, "I muttered. The idea did sound good.
Alice pouted, "Hey. I don't have a card."
Andy laughed, "Our expenses our payback. Your expenses, the interest, so feel free."
I smiled.
Payback was good.

We all split up at seven in the evening, having blown away God alone knows how much money on everything ranging from shoes, to bags to scarves, and THEN, we sent it to Goodwill.
Of course that doesn't mean we'd come back with our own checking accounts intact. We'd made small, but noticeable dents.

I had all but entered my apartment, laden down with boxes and bags, and the new love of my life, my gown, when my bell phone started ringing.
Relieving myself of my load, I took the call, without checking the caller id. I had a fairly good idea who it was.
"You fucking bitch!" the voice screamed.
"Hey Blake! Long time."
"I'm going to sue all three of you for every penny you spent! How fucking dare you. . . ."
"Ease up Darling. Its only a little more than a hundred thousand dollars."
"It was bloody $300,564 you little slut! I'm going to make you pay back every penny. And I'm going to sue for damages come Monday."
I heard the phone click and smiled. That was a lot nicer than I would've predicted.
The money wasn't what was bothering him. God knows he was rich. It was the fact that he'd been shown up.
I couldn't help but gloat as I put phase two of our plan in action and headed for a bubble bath.
Scarlet O Hara may have been slightly shallow, but she was right, tomorrow was another day.
And I would bloody well enjoy it.

A shrill ringing woke me up.
It was seven in the morning and it was SUNDAY.
I picked up the phone ready to give the caller hell, "THIS HAD BETTER BE GOOD!"
"Oh it is honey. Have you seen the papers yet?"
"Alice? What're you doing up so early? This is like dawn according to our Sunday timings."
Another voice, Andy's chimed in, we were on conference apparently, "Just get your skinny butt to the door and grab your newspaper. Society page."
I groaned and lumbered to the door, listening as Leona too, joined in.
Wham.
"Oh my God!" was all I could say again and again in glee as I stared at the Society page.
Blake's face stared out from a huge photograph on which was superimposed in large red letters- HOTELIER DONATES LUXURY GOODS WORTH 300,000 DOLLARS TO CHARITY.
I whooped! Sasha Moretti, a friend from school, worked with the newspaper. Dropping the news to her had been easy, and given that young journos jumped at about everything, the plan had worked. And had worked fast.
Now there was no way Blake could screw with us.
He could, but it would ruin his social image and that would be fatal!
"I feel so so good," I muttered into the phone.
We all chatted for a few more minutes before disconnecting.
We'd been pretty thorough in our shopping.
Buying two of every size of clothing.
Buying two of everything else.
Revenge was sweet.

Troy stretched, standing in his huge terrace.
Why his father had ignored the publishing firm in their company, he didn't understand.
It made good money, but the elementary reports showed that a little more work, could do wonders.
His sigh caught in his throat as he watched the slender figure of his neighbor appear in her balcony.
He edged nearer.
Her hair was tousled from sleep, and she was wearing a long power puff girls t shirt.
No, he wasn't gay. But shopping for an assortment of nephews and nieces kept him updated.
The buzzing of his cell phone reminded him, that he had work to do. He didn't have time to watch his neighbor.

I decided to wear my newly acquired Andrew McQueen white ruffle collar shirt, a charcoal pencil skirt and jacket. Boring. Not. I added deep purple pumps and a matching Hermes scarf, which brightened it up immediately.
Putting my hair up in a high pony tail, and adding a touch of sherry lip gloss, I breezed out of the house.
The lift arrived with a soft muted 'ping' sound.
It was the dramatic Hollywood effect.
The doors slowly slid open.
I raised my eyes as I entered.
They collided with eyes the color of my suit.
I blushed.
He looked.
And aimed a half smile.
My heart threatened to make a flying leap out of my throat and into his pocket as I smiled back, outwardly calm.
Withdrawing to the far corner of the lift, I drank in the sight and matched him to my requirements for dream man list.
1. Tall-check. Has to be more than 6'2
2. Tan- check. Sexy tan. Not manufactured in spa. Not beach boy. Just sexy.
3. Eyes- to die for.
4. Body- give me a spoon and I'll eat him up he's so yum. Muscular, but not a mountaing.
5. Face- hello? If he looked bad would I be gushing? But seriously. HANDSOME HANDSOME. With a strong jaw, roman nose, the works.
6. Hair- black. Short but long enough for fingers to take up residence
7. Overall effect- Prince Charming.

Troy didn't have the luxury of staring at his neighbor directly.
But he could see her reflection in the elevator doors.
He almost smirked as he watched her give him a once over before turning away.
But reflection gazing had its advantages.
He could look longer without being embarrassed.
If he'd pegged her for beautiful in the balcony, now she was stunning.

Any further musing was put to rest as the elevator doors slid open and they stepped out.
Troy's mouth dropped open as he watched the woman get into the Guardian behind his own silver grey version.
He shook his head in wonder.
He had to find a way to this woman.

I was hyperventilating in my car.
He drove the same car!
But soon I got a bigger surprise.
For about the next twenty minutes, it seemed as if he was mirroring my moves. Taking the same turns, the same lights.
"Is this a sign God?"
Only the soft purr of the engine.

Troy was getting antsy.
Was his neighbor a stalker?
Her car had been tailing his ever since they'd started out.
He'd almost reached the office, but just to check, he switched lanes, and turned away to a different road.
He breathed easily when he saw her car continue on its way.
So she wasn't a stalker.
It was coincidence that they were going the same way.

I sighed irritatedly.
It hadn't been a sign. His car had turned away last minute.
Entering my office, I saw the intercom beeping.
I picked up the receiver as I put away files.
"Sweety, have you flossed?"
It was Harry Bradley our COO. My boss.
My gay boss.
"Sure thing. What's the agenda today, we wrapped up the bits and pieces for all the pending projects yesterday!"
There was a huge pause before he spoke, "Honey. Screw projects. We have a major crisis at hand."
I could sense the panic inspite of the carefully modulated voice he used, just as his grooming teacher had taught him.
"Okay poodle. I'm reading high stress signals. What's eating you?"
The veneer cracked as the man started spilling.
I could feel the beginning of a headache as I put the phone down.
Our knew boss, the CEO, was dropping in.
Just like that.
Father retires.
Son decides to visit distant relatives father shunned.
Without notice that too.
But I wasn't too stressed.
My department was up to date.
I was well dressed.
And FLOSSED!
I sat down and sent a warning email to all the employees.
Even to Griffin on the 15th floor.
He was a pain, but no one deserved to face the new big shot unprepared.
Within five minutes my server got hanged because of the huge number of replies.
This was going to be a long day.

Troy was standing next to his car, staring at the space next to his.
It was the same black Guardian.
Gosh.
Making his way towards the lobby, he noticed the way people stared at him.
So much for incognito.
News always travelled much too fast.

By the time he was in the CEO's office, the entire staff was literally kissing his feet.
He entered the room to find himself looking at a very sexy female form in a charcoal grey suit, arranging flowers in his desk.
He rounded over to his seat and said without looking, "Get me a coffee and onion bagel will you?"

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, you must be our new CEO, Troy Xaviers."
My breathing stopped the moment the man looked up from the leather chair he'd so quickly taken.
It was him.
My neighbor.
And he was asking me to fetch his breakfast.
Cute or not there are something’s you do not do for your boss.
Troy stared. It was his neighbor, the owner of the Guardian.
His secretary.
"So are you going to stare at me or are you going to get around to doing what I just asked you to."

The nerve of the man.

"I'm sorry Sir, but I am not your housekeeper. I'll see you later perhaps during the staff meeting."
Huh.
The mental checklist from the morning flew out of the window as Grace exited the room fuming.
The guy was a presumptuous moron with no manners.

Troy stared after the curvy female.
All he'd done was ask for breakfast, and she reacted like he'd propositioned her.

Grace had just reached her office when Harry breezed in, saying, "If the man's even partly gay, I'll lap him up."
"What about the company's nepotism policy?" Grace teased.
"That's the best part. This is the only company that doesn't have a policy. He's all mine," gushed Harry.
"Yeah sure. If you want a man with the manners of a rhino," said Grace.

Harry stopped and looked into her face carefully, "What or who's put your panties in a bunch, hon"
Sighing, she explained the situation, finishing with, "Tell me Harry. I got a degree from Oxford. Do I look like a secretary who'll fetch and carry. I mean even a self respecting secretary won't"
Harry patted her shoulder sympathetically, "Grace. Listen to me. As far as the facial expressions and what you say is concerned, you're no secretary. But your facial features and body kind of make you the woman every man would fantasize about his secretary"
"That really doesn't make me feel better,"
"You can't feel worse than I do. I mean I am the COO and he left me a message saying he'll see me half an hour before the staff meet. I don't even get to hang around him."

Killer.

This was going to be fun.