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His eyes widened and his jaw was still on the floor.
Oh, come on.I know I was no oil painting right now, but he must have been able to understand.
‘That’s what nannies are for,’ he sneered. ‘To deal with those things. Why don’t you have a nanny?Everyonehas a nanny. I’m very concerned, Sophia.Veryconcerned. First Robyn and her flakiness, the poor results, the slow replies to emails and nowthis.’
‘Well, I’m sure we can–’
‘I’ve got to go, Sophia.Eugh…’ He hung up.
What the hell?Did he really just hang up because he couldn’t bear to look at me? Was I really that repulsive?
I jumped up and looked at myself in the mirror.
Oh dear.
My hair was tangled and sticking up in different directions. I had some dried dribble on the side of my mouth, sleep crust in the corners of my eyes, as well as the enormous bags and, oh—how lovely. A giant angry spot, smack-bang in the middle of my forehead.
Brilliant.Bloody brilliant.
I flopped back down on the bed.
It’s okay. I’m overreacting.
Viktor was an intelligent man. He might work in beauty, but he knew that there was more to me than just how I looked. It was my brain and my experience, the work that the team did, that was most important. We’d generated amazing results for his company in the past. Helped to establish the brand in the UK. Gone above and beyond.
And anyway, it wasn’t like he was a new client. We’d known each other for years. Surely I was allowed to have one off day? It would be fine.
My phone chimed. I really needed to put it on silent whilst Leo was asleep.
It was an email from Viktor. I read the subject line.
What the…?
Termination.
He can’t have…
I clicked on the email.
Sophia,
Please take this email as written notice that Purity Skincare wishes to end our contract with BeCome with immediate effect.
It’s clear that you and your team are no longer capable of representing our brand.
Regards,
Viktor
‘Vaffanculo!’I screamed. ‘Testa di cazzo!’
I shouted, thinking of all of the rudest Italian swear words Geli had taught us. I was so annoyed I wasn’t even thinking about waking Leo up.
What a giant dickhead.
I’d always worried that if clients ever saw me looking less than immaculate, they wouldn’t want to work with me. That’s why I used to always wear designer clothes and four-inch heels, have my hair swooshing around like I was auditioning for a shampoo advert and my nails and make-up looking flawless. Roxy always said I was a glamour puss who preened more religiously than a Christian went to church. It was true. But I didn’t want that life anymore. I had known that as soon as I’d come back from the cookery holiday two years ago, and I’d been trying to relax my style and dial down my image ever since.
Yeah, I still used to glam up for meetings and events, just in case, but day-to-day, I preferred the more casual look. It felt more me. Like the real me. I liked it.
