Chapter 2

Previously:

By now I had returned to my jet and prepared myself for my hour and twenty minute ride to London.

Juliette POV

I slept through the entire plane ride and awoke to the blinding fear you have when you wake up somewhere you've never been. You know what im talking about, that horrid feeling that you've been kidnapped and transported halfway round the world? Yeah, that one. Being a sleepwalker, you'd think I'd have gotten used to that, but I guess it's just one of those things that you never get used to. I glanced down and saw the rather embarrassing spot of drool on my oversized knit sweater. "Merde!" I swore and started rubbing furiously on my sleeve when the flight attendant came over.

"Miss, do you require anything?" I don't mean to be offensive, but are all British women so snooty? Maybe it's just the accent. She was looking down her nose at me and I could feel the contempt rolling off of her in waves.

"No, ma'am. I do not require your services at this time." I replied with a sickly sweet smile and an icy stare. She just humphed to herself and stalked away.

The plane began its descent and fifteen minutes later we touched down on the tarmac. Now that I had zero luggage to drag to my new flat, I could go straight to the job interview. I was applying to be a personal assistant to one of the artists working at the Syco Label recording studio. I'm pretty sure that my experience in the competitive music circuit is the only reason I made it past the initial rounds, considering I've never been anyone's personal anything before, and I've never held a job before. But hey, why not be an optimist? The same thing will happen either way, I'll just be happy until it does, rather than mopey and depressed.

And so, with a better attitude than I imagine most people'd have, I set out for my-fingers crossed- new place of employment.

My jaw literally dropped when I walked through the revolving door. Glass walls lined the marble lobby. There was this waterfall thing going on behind the logo and everyone in there was dressed in the latest in business couture. Women sashayed around in black skirts and silk tops and men strolled through carrying Caffe Nero coffee cups and briefcases. There was a low buzz of conversation and everything seemed pretty laid back for such a huge label. There were no crazy people running frantically through the boardroom door's strewing papers everywhere and tearing out their hair.

The second thing I noticed was the long, long, looong line of young women pushed up against the wall. Two men were walking down the line at the other end, one making a comment and the other writing something on a clipboard. Every fifteen or so women, the man with the clipboard would call out some names and ten or eleven women would leave, several in tears.' Wow. I guess this job pays more than I expected'. They continued down the line and I saw they were actually nearing the end so I jumped in between a tall woman in high heels and a short skirt and a middle aged lady with a scowl. As the two interviewers approached, I could start to make out what they were saying. They paused in front of me and I heard the man with the clipboard read off my information.

"Sinclair, Juliette Elise. Age 17. Born in Nice, France. Attends Royal Academy of Performing Arts, London. No past-"

"She passes."

And they moved on. In the end, one other girl was passed on to the next round with me. I walked over and introduced myself, but when I stuck my hand out to shake hers, she eyed my ratty old sweater and my 'comfy' pants and sneered in distaste before flipping her hair and stalking away. Apparently that was not a quality they were looking for in their PA cause the clipboard guy walked over shortly after and asked her to leave. She gave me one more grimace before skulking out of the building.

Clipboard man walked over and introduced himself as Stanley Reynolds and introduced the other man as 'Paul, just Paul'. Stanley and Paul herded all of the remaining twenty and change women into a large antechamber with a table full of water and some couches and magazines. Then, he began taking us into the adjacent room, one girl at a time, in the same order as last time. Of course, this made me last so I settled in next to some other hopefuls and grabbed a magazine. On the cover were five very very VERY attractive young men, so I flipped inside and began reading about them. Every other minute or so, Stanley would pop his head out the door and call a name. After three or four girls, I just started tuning him out and reading through the magazine on the way to the five boys' page. I had just gotten to a page titled One Direction with those teens from the cover when Stanley came over and tapped me on the shoulder. I gave him my warmest smile and followed him into the little office next door.

"Welcome Miss….Sinclair, is it? Hello, how are you doing today? Sorry about the wait, but this is a pretty special job, as I'm sure you know." Paul greeted me.

"I'm fine thanks Mr. 'Just Paul'." I answered, using air quotes. "And I know being a PA will be a special job, but I'm sure I can handle whatever you throw my way."

"She's got a good sense of humor. Louis will like that." He kind of sidenoted to Stanley. "I see here you already finished your bachelors degree in business management and are getting ready to enter classes at the Performing Arts school just down the road."

"Yessir. That's the plan anyways. It seems my plans don't really want to work out these days though, so who knows, really?"

"An optimist too? Well, I just have one last test for you. Fold this sweatshirt." Paul said and tossed me a sweatshirt. Being the uncoordinated fool that I am completely missed it, despite Paul's accurate aim, and had to get up to fold it. I picked it up and saw that it was a purple Jack Wills hoody. I folded it up and laid it down in front of me.

"There you are, sir. Who's jacket is that anyways?" I asked.

"That's Harry's jacket. Harry Styles." Paul answered before scooting back a little in his chair and half shielding himself with my resume.

"oh. That's nice, then, but can't he fold his own clothes?" I asked.

"She's hired."

And that was the last thing Paul said to me before Stanley ushered me out of the room and back towards the lobby.

"Okay, new introductions. I'm Stanley and I'm Paul's PA. That's Brenda at the desk, you call her if you're sick. You really won't interact with the rest of these people, except on special occasions, so I'll leave those introductions for your own time. The boy's have the entire seventh floor to themselves. Business to the left, their space to the right. Your office will be straight ahead." Stanley listed off before pushing me into the elevator.

"Wait, but who's PA-" the doors closed in my face "am I?".

I rode the elevator up to the seventh floor humming to myself. When the doors slid open I headed towards the oak door that read Personal Assistant and had just grabbed the handle when I heard a scream. I ran down the hallway to the right and yanked open the door.

Merde=damn it