Chapter 1

People always tell me I have a perfectly triangular-shaped nose; they say it gives a nice sharpness to my face. I wish they would see me now, early in the morning, with my rumpled hair, dishevelled pyjamas and…a running nose. Well, so much for having a perfect nose, too bad it's of no help when you have a heavy cold. I sniffed, rubbed my eyes and dragged my feet to the bathroom.

They say you're supposed to feel nervous on your first day at work. Okay, I'd say 'nervous' is an understatement of how I felt. I was 'terrified.' A week ago, I was worried they wouldn't hire me, now that they have I'm scared my co-workers, or worse, my boss won't like me. Well, I don't know if they will like me, but I'm determined to make a good first impression. I chose a plain black pencil skirt with black tights, a white shirt and a black jacket. I pulled my hair up and tied it up in a ponytail and put on my favourite court-room shoes. There, that wasn't so scary.

'Bella, honey, your breakfast is ready,' mum called as I came downstairs.

I hurried to the table and gulped down some soggy cereal as fast as I could. My brother, Oliver's eyes didn't miss that. He raised his eyebrows and said,

'They're only humans, your colleagues, not monsters. They're not going to eat you up. So just relax.'

'Thanks, that helps a lot.' I said, sarcastically.

My dad, Charlie, was eyeing me from the top of the newspaper he was reading. 'You'll be fine, don't worry.'

'Thanks, Dad,' I said.

As soon as the clock struck at 8, I sneezed, grabbed my purse and almost stumbled over my shoes. I quickly gave my mum, dad and brother and hug and rushed out to the cool New York City morning.

The cool morning breeze gave me the chills and I regretted not bringing a scarf. I wrapped my arms around my body to keep myself warm. It was a quiet atmosphere, the only sound being my heels clicking on the pavement and a few birds flying overhead.

I took the subway to Manhattan. I couldn't stop tapping my feet in nervousness, which was weird because I've never had that bad habit. As soon as the bus doors open, I jumped outside. I could tell, people were giving me strange looks, but that was nothing new for me.

I stood outside the building- my workplace, I realize with a jolt of excitement. I looked at the massive signboard right next to the entrance – 'Haute Couture'. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The meticulously clean white-tiled floors were reflecting back my own image. There was a mauve coloured sofa with cream carpet underneath it at one corner of the room, where a bunch of really anorexic-looking girls sat, with their skin stretching on their bones. 'Models', I guessed. At the other corner of the room there was a table adjoining the wall, behind which the receptionist sat. Then I turned to look at the people around me.

It was like looking at a runway.

There were all these beautiful people in their latest designer wear clothes. Some of them turned to look at me, while the rest were either too busy to notice, or didn't bother too. I tried to give my peers a weak smile, but from their looks I guessed it came out more as dumb look. I quickly rushed to the receptionist, a plump-faced brunette, possibly a Latina, who was flirting with a young man, who was good-looking enough to be a model. I handed her my job confirmation letter, and she seemed really annoyed at the interruption. She gave the model-looking guy the sweetest smile, and turned to glare at me.

'Hmm,' she said in a dull voice, 'Bella Swan, personal assistant to the Editor.'

Now she was really looking at me, right from my hair to the shoes. I have always been complemented on my fashion sense so I stood there confidently, patting my hair. She seemed to find nothing to criticize, and almost gave me smile. She showed me the door to the Editor's office.

As soon as I knocked on the door and asked if I could come in I heard a really loud sneeze, and it sure as hell wasn't mine. Then, from the inside came a muffled 'Come in.'

I opened the door an inch and saw a hand a waving from the back of a desk, its owner sitting at it, gesturing me to come inside. As soon as the person removed his hands, he sneezed once more: 'Acchooooo!'

I rushed forward and handed a tissue paper fro a box lying on the desk. He took it, nodded at me, while I waited patiently.

So this was new boss, I concluded. I'd researched on him a bit. Charismatic and a charming 30 year-old, graduated from Cambridge in Economics, a workaholic and a ladies man. Dark hair, blue eyes, good physique – he was definitely a Christian Bale look-alike.

After cleaning himself up, he got up, put his hands forwards and said,

'Sorry about that, the only thing I hate about New York City is the weather. I'm David Gordon. You must be my new assistant.'

I shook his hands and said, 'No problem, I have a bit of cold myself. Bella Swan, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.'

'Please, call me David, and do have a sit' he said.

'So, Bella, what made you decide to work here?' he asked.

'Umm,' I said, a little bit confused.

'Don't worry, I'm not interviewing you. It's just that I wasn't there when you were interviewed, so I don't know much about you. Except that you majored in Applied Chemistry from college with excellent grades. From formulae to Fashion - all of a sudden, why did you switch?'

'You see, sir, sorry, David, I am planning to complete a Master's degree from NYU. Until I do that, I feel I will not be ready to get a job in the science field. So meanwhile, I thought I'd do something I've always wanted – work at a fashion magazine. Because, this involves two things I really love – writing and fashion.'

'So you are a writer too?'

'Not really,' I admitted. 'I had a few articles published now and then, but I never gave writing a serious thought, because I was always too busy with my school-work, and later, college.'

'Okay then, you are ready to start your first day. Your desk is the one right outside my door. At the moment all you have to do is answer my calls. After lunch, I'll call you in to have a look at a draft of next month's issue, and you have to tell me what you think of it.'

'Sounds good,' I said.

'Welcome to Haute Couture then; am I supposed to say that I hope you enjoy your work experience here?' he asked sheepishly.

'You don't have to if it's not necessary,' I replied with a grin.