Mr Stone, My CEO

"I... I can't do that." I stammered. What was he thinking? That was going too far, way too fast. And we were in his office! What if someone were to walk in?!

He arched his eyebrow. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't question my instructions." The tone of his voice was hard and displeased.

I gulped as I tried to stop myself from shaking with fear, I hated that he had this effect on me. He was right though. I had promised not to question him. But I couldn't help wondering if I went a long with everything he said, his methods could damage my self-esteem even further, and it was already in the pits.

I looked at him defiantly, crossing my arms in front of me. "I know I did. But we're doing this so I know how to pleasure someone. How does this translate to that? It makes me wonder if you're just doing this because it's a fun game." My tone at the end came out a little sulky, and I cursed myself silently.

He stepped towards me, fixing his ocean deep eyes into mine as he approached. I felt myself begin to tremble under his gaze. His body was now so close to mine I could feel the warmth radiating off him, his expensive cologne making my head swim with attraction. His tailored shirt was so fitting, I could trace the outline of his muscles with my eyes. I wondered what he would look like...no. I had to snap out of this. Why was it the bastards were always the gorgeous ones?

I looked up, determined to meet his gaze. He may be a man who always got want he wanted, who had every woman bowing at his feet, but I wasn't going to be one of them. This arrangement was strictly for my benefit. I was using him. He needed to know I wasn't intimated, or I at least needed to make him think that.

"This is not a game, Miss Woods. I have offered you my help, which may I remind you, you wanted. This is how I intend to help you. If you don't trust me, this arrangement will not work."

His stare continued, and I felt my resolve weaken a little. What he was saying was true. I had wanted the help, how else was I going to be able to deal with a proper relationship. I didn't want to die alone. I wanted to get married and have children. I wanted, no, I needed the confidence to be able to go out into the world and do that. I wasn't going to get anywhere like this. I could barely look at myself in the mirror, let alone let anyone see me in a more intimate setting.

My mouth twitched, before I finally said through gritted teeth, "fine."

A devilish smile spread across his face. "There's a good girl." He retreated back to the desk and leaned against it, placing his palms onto the edge of the desk.

"Now. I'll ask you again. Take off all your clothes."

Today we were going to look round Stone Marketing. This was a pretty big deal. Stone Marketing was the most successful marketing company in London, and they looked after all the main contracts in the city.

I had no idea what I was going to wear. My fellow students often turned up to class in formal business attire, including pencil skirts and shirts for the girls and perfectly ironed suits for the boys. Most of my peers were from families with money though, and often had grown up in London. I was a bit different. I came from a small sea-side town in Devon. My uniform was jeans and hoodies. I certainly didn't have enough money to buy expensive clothes just for going to uni.

In the end I picked out the smartest pair of jeans I had. Deep blue boot-cut ones with a high waist. I was desperate to put a large dark grey hoodie over the top in order to hide my figure, but I knew I couldn't get away with that in such an expensive environment. I forced myself to put on a white t-shirt I never wore, and the black blazer my mum had bought me before I left. As for shoes well...the choice was converse or Doc Martens. I went for the Doc Martens.

My dark hair was eternally a mess of curls that never wanted to conform with my attempts to tame it, so I scraped it back into my usual pony tail to keep it out of my face. I wasn't really a make-up girl, only opting for a couple of swipes of my £1 mascara.

Checking my reflection was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had to check today. I glanced as quickly as possible, shuddering at the dumpy silhouette that appeared in the dirty mirror. I sighed heavily, and grabbed my back-pack and headed out of my room.

I lived in the cheapest university halls going. Although as it was London, it was still damn expensive. After rent and books, I usually had very little student loan left over. To make matters worse, my room was tiny. There was only enough space for a single bed and a chest of draws. I had to share a kitchen and bathroom with four other people. It sucked. I reminded myself I had chosen to come to London. Although now I was here, I wasn't sure why.

I made my way through the busy streets down to the tube station, making sure I didn't bump into any of the bustling commuters. Thankfully I didn't need to change tubes, as I was on the right line for the infamous Canary Wharf.

I'd been to look around Canary Wharf a few times, but I had to admit, I was excited to see what was inside one of those tall glass buildings. Checking the directions on my phone, I soon arrived outside the huge impressive building. It was spring, and the morning light made the glass panes sparkle with promise.

I spotted some other students from my course, and begrudgingly made my way over. One of the girls, Emma, spotted me and whispered something to one of the others. I watched them smirk and knew it would have been nothing good. Probably some comment about what I was wearing. They were of course, flawlessly dressed. Emma herself was wearing a soft pink blazer with a form fitting cream dress underneath that showed off her tiny waist. Her honey-coloured hair was perfectly quaffed into a high bun, and her make-up looked like it had been done by a professional artist. Nude heels adorned her feet and a designer handbag rested on her left shoulder.

I couldn't be more opposite if I tried.

I hung at the back of the group while the rest of the students chatted excitedly together.

Our professor, Neil, appeared at the front of the group. "Right guys, I know I shouldn't have to tell you, but remember. This is a big deal to be allowed inside here, so I want 100% professionalism and respect. I don't need to remind you that if you make a good impression here, you may be lucky enough to offered their internship." He cast his eyes round the group, his gaze briefly landing on me. A brief flicker of disapproval crossed his face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

Neil ushered us into the building. The whole space was decorated with black and white monochrome. There was no doubt it looked sleek, but I also thought it felt a little cold. I reflected this probably suited its name, Stone Marketing.

A woman was waiting for us in the lobby. It turned out she looked even more immaculate than Emma. Something I never thought possible. She flashed us a wide smile, and I felt I needed sunglasses to shield my eyes from her whiter than white teeth.

"Welcome students." Her voice was a little robotic. Like the automated ones you got when you phoned your energy supplier. "My name is Melissa. I'm a manager in the communications department, and it is my pleasure to show you around today."

Despite the computerised voice, she was a stunning woman. I could see the boys nudging each other and winking. Not exactly the professionalism or respect Neil had asked for.

We began our tour around some of the offices where the admin worked. It was pretty average, but I knew she would be building up. Then we were led to the social media department. That was definitely a notch up. They had large screens on all the walls with various platforms such as Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Each showed how many interactions, comments and 'likes' the content was receiving.

Next, was the mock up space. The room was completely white, including all the furniture. This had examples of new ads they'd created for various different companies. The white made sense now, it was so each piece of work could be looked at on a blank canvas.

Some of the ads were in paper. Others were projected onto the wall, clearly being produced for a digital format.

"Please feel free to take a look around," Melissa called out to us.

Most of it was unfinished work, but I was fascinated to see the process behind each campaign. Most of them looked incredible, and I noted the number of well-known companies that were featured. But then, something caught my eye. It was an ad for Blast sports drinks. Blast was a big name within the gym scene, often marketed to serious athletes and body-builders. But this ad...well it looked childish. The lettering was almost bubbly in appearance, and the pastel colours just didn't seem to fit.

I called over to Melissa.

She glided over to me like a swan on a lake. "Yes...?"

"Rosie." I provided for her.

She gave me a postcard smile. "How can I help?"

I suddenly felt a little awkward. Why on earth had I put myself in this position? I started to stammer a little. "I just...well...I mean...isn't this a sports drinks company?"

A flash of amusement crossed her face. "Yes, that's right."

I bit my lip. Now I was here, I had to explain otherwise I'd look even more stupid.

"Don't you think it's a bit...well...childish? They're meant to be a serious company, aren't they?"

By this point a few of my fellow students had begun to crowd around me. Clearly interested in how I was showing them up today.

The woman fort back to conceal a laugh. "Blast wished to go in a new direction. They want to appeal to gym novices as well as the serious types...but I will pass on your very astute comments to the departments manager."

At this, those around us listening started to snigger. Even Neil looked like he wanted to put his head in his hands. My cheeks flushed. I really should have kept my mouth shut.

Just then, a deep powerful voice sounded from the back of the crowd. "See that you do pass on those comments, Melissa. I think the girl has a valid point."

I turned to the source of the voice. Wow. Standing with a serious expression was a tall muscular man in his early 30's. His dark hair and eyes made him look mysterious. Even a little dangerous. His sharp jaw line was covered in dark stubble. The charcoal suit he was wearing looked crazy expensive, and I wondered what he did here to earn that kind of money.

Melissa's face had paled a little, even through her perfect tan. "Yes Sir. Of course, Sir. I'll do that right away." Her calm exterior vanished as she scurried off.

The man's eyes followed her for a second, and then to my discomfort, they snapped to me. I hurriedly looked away. I could barely hold eye contact with any man, let alone one as good looking as this.

He strode his way towards me, the crowd parting like the sea for Moses. Moments later, he was in front of me.

"What is your name?" I could not read his expression.

I did my best to look unintimidated, but my voice was quiet. "Rosie. Rosie Woods."

"And you are a student at the University of London?"

I nodded. "Yes. My first year."

He furrowed his brow. "Hmm." There was an edge of disappointment in his voice, and he began to walk away. Then he paused and turned his head to the side slightly. "Come to my office tomorrow morning. 8am. Don't be late."

My heart leapt. Could this be the internship? Suddenly, I realised something. I called out hurriedly. "Excuse me sir, I apologise, but I don't know your name?"

Audible gasps and whispers shot up from my group. Now, even Neil did not resist shaking his head in disbelief. What had I done wrong?

The man turned, a smirk upon his face. The first change in expression I'd seen since our encounter had started.

"My name is Ezra Stone. I am the CEO of this company."

Oh fuck.

The crimson colour of embarrassment was still evident on my cheeks as we made our way out of the building.

"Can you believe she didn't recognise Ezra Stone?! Does she live under a rock?" Emma's remark was said in a whisper, but a very loud one. I was pretty sure she knew I could hear her.

Her partner in crime Tiffany laughed. "I know right. I don't even know why he's asked her to meet him."

"Maybe to give her some fashion tips." Emma quipped. They promptly burst into hysterical giggles.

I tried to ignore it. I really did. But I knew their words were going to play over in my head later.

Neil held up his hand for quiet. "Right...well I suppose we should congratulate Rosie on Mr Stone's invitation." Even he looked confused. A limp applause followed, barely audible for more than a few moments. "I would like 1000 words on what you have learnt from today's experience, due in a week. Okay, off you go."

I took myself off as fast as my feet could carry me. There was no way I wanted to be with these people for a second longer.

I chided myself all the way back to my room. Why on earth had I made a spectacle out of myself? I never usually spoke up like that, so what possessed me to do it now? Another thought came to me. What was I going to wear tomorrow? I'd already worn the best I had. Surely, I couldn't go in the same thing tomorrow. Emma's comment about my fashion sense rang through my ears, and I suddenly felt even more self-conscious than I already was. Something I never thought possible.

I decided to take a detour back to my flat, and head to a couple of charity shops to see if I could find anything that would be suitable. I couldn't afford to buy anything new.

Of course, charity shops were still more expensive in London. Back in Devon I could buy a hoodie in the Cancer Research shop for £1. There was no chance of that here. They even looked different inside, arranged more like vintage boutique shops.

I stepped into the Oxfam and flicked down the rack, realising this was going to be too expensive. Not one item was under £15. That was the majority of my food budget for a week.

I moved to the Lighthouse shop next door finding their prices a little more reasonable. In the end I selected a pair of black trousers and a white shirt. I would have to wear my Doc Martins with it. Handing over £10 to the shop assistant, I hurriedly made my way home to do some research on Ezra Stone. I needed to know the beast I was dealing with.

After hanging up my new clothes, well, new to me anyway, I opened up my laptop. I tapped his name into the search bar and waited for the results to appear. The first few links were about Stone Marketing, and their company website and social media platforms. However, one article caught my eye. It was an expose on Mr Stone. I scanned the content of the article, learning several things.

Mr stone was 34. He had inherited the company after his father had died a few years ago. He was unmarried and without children. During his spare time, he liked to go riding. He liked to work hard, and play hard. The article mentioned numerous exclusive clubs he attends within the city, and his appreciation of beautiful women. I rolled my eyes at the last comment. That was hardly a surprise. Then my gaze landed on his net worth. £4.8 billion.

I stared at the figure. What did you even do with £4.8 billion? I looked over at the slightly crumpled shirt and trousers I'd bought. I'd definitely buy better clothes to begin with

I decided to do an image search next. The page was flooded with both professional and paparazzi photographs of Mr Stone in various different expensive suits. In fact, he was not wearing anything casual in a single picture. A lot of the paparazzi photos were of him and a selection of different women. Each more stunning than the last. I noted they all looked like models. He was clearly a bit of a playboy. Maybe that was why he had selected me for the internship. There was no way he would be tempted to bed me.

The sound of my phone ringing startled me from my musing, and I shut the laptop feeling almost ashamed of where my thoughts had wandered to. I answered the phone without checking who it was.

"Hello?" I said, absentmindedly.

"Hi, are you busy tonight?" A female voice questioned from the other end of the line.

Confused I asked, "Sorry, who is this?"

A brief pause. "It's Vanessa you idiot."

I shook myself out of my daze. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Clearly." Vanessa's disapproval was evident from her tone.

Vanessa was my one and only friend in London. We had met at a university mixer organised by every institution in the city. Our clear lack of fashion sense had drawn us together, most other people around us dressed impeccably in evening wear. She was studying to be a vet at the Royal Veterinary School. I liked Vanessa a great deal, but she had a sharp tongue at times.

"Anyway, tonight?" She prompted.

I hesitated. I should probably look up more about Stone Marketing, but I would probably only end up looking up useless facts about Mr Stone.

"Sure. I don't have enough money to go out though. Can we do a few beers at yours?"

"Yeah, alright then. Come over at 7pm."

She ended the call. Maybe she would have some advice on how to deal with tomorrow. Vanessa was far more confident than me.

That night I made my way over to Vanessa's accommodation. She had a studio in a much nicer complex. She came from a family of vets, so they were able to help pay her rent. It was partly why I always suggested going to hers. If she came to mine, we were squished onto my single bed with very little leg room.

She opened the door to me and took the six-pack of cheap lager from my hands.

"Come in. I'm just finishing up a surgery video."

"Grim." I commented.

She rolled her eyes and gestured for me to get a drink. Flicking the cap off one of the beers with an expert wrist action, I took a long sip and waited for her on the sofa. I had no desire to go over to her desk where she was making notes on some animal undergoing an operation.

Vanessa finished up and walked over to the kitchenette to grab one of the beers. Not for the first time I envied her slim physique. Vanessa was beautiful without trying. Her dark chocolate skin was completely flawless, unlike my pale complexion that flushed red at the slightest temperature change. She kept her curly hair short, which allowed the stunning angles of her face to shine. Her large dark eyes looked disapprovingly at the cheap beer I'd bought.

"I know you don't splash out, but this is even crapper than the stuff you normally bring." She made a face, but still took a large swig.

"Sorry. I had to buy clothes today."

She looked at me as if I was an alien. "Clothes? Why."

I sighed, and I explained what had happened earlier that day.

Vanessa immediately looked Mr Stone up, unapologetically wanting to know what all the fuss was about.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, he looks like a dick."

I laughed. "I suppose most people are when they look like that."

Her head spun quickly around. "You fancy him? Don't you?"

The red in my cheeks instantly gave me away. "No," I lied.

"Very convincing Rosie. You might want to work on that though."

I hit her arm playfully. "Shut up. You know what I'm like around men. It's a disaster zone."

Taking another sip of her drink she shook her head. "All you need to do is give up that precious virginity you're holding onto. As soon as you bang someone, you'll be able to handle it."

I hated it when she mentioned the virgin thing. "You know my reasons." I mumbled, staring down at my brown bottle.

"Yep. Shit ones." She reclined back into the sofa.

I wish I could be more like Vanessa. If she wanted something she just went out into the world and got it. I was different. Being 18 and a virgin in London was rare. I knew that. I just didn't want to lose it to someone I didn't care about.

Vanessa tapped on a picture of him. "He looks like enough of a bastard to take it for you. Maybe you should ask him."

I decided not to answer. There was no chance Mr Stone would be interested in someone like me.