Lead into Gold

Chapter 1: In which Sydney is given a taste of things to come

There are only two things in this world that make me willing to leave my house of a morning without having partaken in the glory that is coffee. The first is a house fire. This one, thankfully, has never happened before. The second is my sister, Carly, needing me. This has happened three times.

So it should be understandable that when I received a vaguely ominous text from my darling sister this morning, I was alarmed enough to rush straight to her place of work at 8am without having brushed my dark blonde hair or caffeinated my blood. I threw open the door to her office, not bothering to knock - because, uh, emergency – and words were spilling out of my mouth before I even took in my surroundings. "Are you okay? What happened? Is he bothering you again?"

I had to pause then to take a breath and as I did so, I realised that Carly was sitting at her desk, looking entirely too composed (for what I had expected) minus the open mouthed look she was given me. And I could definitely attribute the open-mouthed thing to the fact that I'd just announced myself with the tact and class of someone who'd been living in the wilderness all their life. She shook her head, her perfectly-styled curls bouncing on her shoulders with a kind of grace that came naturally to her. A kind of grace that was, unfortunately for me, non-hereditary. "No, no, nothing like that, Syd," she said calmly.

"But you texted," I told her uncomprehendingly and still a little breathless from my mad rushing about. "You said I needed to hurry."

The non-panicked part of my brain was beginning to calm down and helping me realise that I may have been a little presumptuous in reading 'My office. Come quick' into 'Help – I'm being terrorised by my psychotic ex-boyfriend', but in my defence – that was the reason for the last time Carly had wanted me at her work place.

Carly laughed as she gestured for me to take a seat and I did, now calm enough to fully take in where I was. Her office was on the small side, but she made up with that for the way she'd decorated it. The walls were painted a soft, pastel purple and the surrounding cabinets were all wooden but had been painted a glossy white. The centrepiece of the room was an equally white, desk that had been intricately carve along the edge with the pattern of lilies. But my favourite part of the room was the big floral patterned loveseat where we now were perched, covered with a spread of new designs and bits and pieces of paperwork. Ever since I can remember people had always commented on how funny it was that Carly was so scatter-brained and beautiful whereas I, the middle daughter, am level-headed and logical. And well, let's face facts, not a tenth as gorgeous as my older sister.

"I'm sorry for worrying you but I'd had the most brilliant idea and I'd had to text you right away!" This made me a little anxious when the last time Carly had had a 'brilliant idea', I had been in middle school and she'd convinced me it was wise to paint this weird pattern straight onto our front lawn. Needless to say, (as I say it anyway) my father hadn't shared Carly's delight in the end result. But then, my father's version of a good idea was to pressure me into taking on the family accounting business which I, while skilled at accounting, loathed.

"Go on," I prodded her, realising she had paused for me to encourage her.

"Well, I was thinking about what you said the other day about studying architecture in college and dad being all 'I won't pay for something so frivolous' about it and I thought of a solution of sorts."

"I'm listening," I said – now this was starting to sound like an idea I could wholeheartedly back.

"The thing is," she continued with a grin, "I need an assistant. Someone to run errands and fulfil basic management and organisational need, and most importantly it needs to be someone trustworthy. So," she was basically humming with excitement now, "The deal is that if you move in with me and work as my full time assistant for the next six months, I'll pay you through college once the big Dragomir deal comes through."

The Dragomir deal was a big one in the fashion industry and they were currently preparing to promote Carly's label which would inevitably lead to her becoming big-time.

It took me a moment to put everything together and the basis of the idea was – I could actually end up going to college for something I wanted after all. "Really?" I asked, the hint of breathlessness coming back into my tone but for completely different reasons than when I'd been running. This was too good to be true. I could actually achieve my dream?

"Really," Carly agreed, beaming at my reaction.

My mind started working a mile a minute, thinking of all the things I'd need to do. There were applications letter that I could get started on now, then there was the packing. I was going to move out. Break free from the prison that my father had confined me in and be given my own life. And with that though, I balked. Dad.

"Father won't be happy," I said, feeling myself deflate a little.

Carly shrugged, unconcerned. "It doesn't matter what dad thinks, Syd. You can't let him dictate your life or you'll be miserable – and single – forever. Besides, have you spoken to Zoe lately? She would love to take on the family business, but she thinks it's useless since dad's so intent on you."

I frowned, thoughtfully. "I didn't think that was Zoe's thing." It was disconcerting to be told that I didn't really know my little sister as well as I'd thought. The one I'd been living with for her entire life. It kind of made sense though. I could remember Zoe trying to convince dad to let her go into work with him.

"Are you kidding? She loves it!" Carly laughed.

Fortunately, I was saved from having to face the fact that I was apparently the most insensitive sibling in the world by a knock on the door.

"It's unlocked," Carly called out, giving me an apologetic look at our conversation being interrupted. And in walked the face of Lead into Gold's male clothing line, Adrian Ivashkov. I remember once actually seeing a girl cry over a photo of him and sobbing something like 'I'll never find someone like him to love me." It had been a little weird to say the least. But now, seeing Mr Tall, dark and attractively ruffled standing before me I could almost understand. With his fashionably messy brown hair and shockingly emerald eyes, Ivashkov was handsome to the point where you considered that he was a hallucination because surely this level of nonchalant perfection could not exist in the real world. I'd seen him around some of the times that I'd visited Carly before, but we'd never spoken nor been this close before. I had to remind myself that he was just another vapid, arrogant male model and that I needed to start breathing again. Because breathing is necessary to life.

"I'm here," he announced with a cocky smirk, the kind that mad girls swoon, "What are your other two wishes?"

Carly laughed while I strongly resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Meet my new assistant," she told him as she proudly gestured to me.

When Adrian turned his gaze to me, seemingly noticing me for the first time, I was suddenly struck with the intense desire to disappear. I felt a stab of self-consciousness as I was forced to remember that I'd only just woken up when I'd received Carly's text and so I'd quickly thrown the closest pieces of clean clothing – A sunburst yellow blouse (that my mother had bought me and I'd promptly gone on to never wear because I hadn't felt the need to terrorise the world with such a bright hue) and some grey slacks (which would have been acceptable had I taken a moment to iron them). My hair was, as previously stated, unbrushed and my make-up, non-existent. In conclusion, I was sitting in a room with the two embodiments of beauty looking like pre-fairy god mothered Cinderella.

Thankfully, Adrian didn't acknowledge my disgraceful appearance and rather nodded at me civilly. "It's Sydney Sage right?"

"Yes," I said simply, my thoughts running a frantic line of 'how does he know my name?' before I realised that: right, he works for Carly, my sister. Feeling a little too much of something to actually try a conversation with Ivashkov, I turned to my sister and told her, "I don't recall agreeing to be your assistant." Not that I would refuse, but still, it would have been nice of I'd been given a moment to pretend that I'd actually had other options.

Carly smiled, "But you have to say yes."

"Of course she does," Adrian agreed, with an easy-going attitude to him. "Otherwise she'd miss the opportunity to work with all this," he added, gesturing to his body.

I decided not to dignify that with a response and continued pretending that Carly was the only person in the room. "And I can stay at your place?" I double-checked.

"You could stay at my place," Adrian suggested.

"Yes, I have a spare room for you," Carly replied, giving Adrian a peculiar smile as if he hadn't just said something horribly suggestive to her younger sister. She probably thought he was being charming. Ha.

The fact that my sister wasn't jumping in to defend my honour at any moment led me to believe that the sooner this particular conversation was over, the better. "When do I start?"

Carly grinned. "Tomorrow. But pack your stuff right away and I'll swing by later and we can tell dad together."

I nodded, standing up and trying to subtly smooth down my outfit. "Okay. See you tonight then," I told her, giving Carly a quick parting hug.

"Bye Sydney," she smiled.

"And where's my goodbye hug?" Adrian asked as a passed him.

"Sorry," I replied, holding up my handbag in both hands like a shield. "My hands are full."

He laughed delightedly. "Oh, I love it that you play hard to get, Sage," he said, winking as I made my escape.

What on Earth had I gotten myself into?

A/N: This is the revised version of a Sydrian story I wrote when Bloodlines came out, called 'Golden'. Unfortunately things had happened at the time that had stopped me from finishing it, but now I've decided to get back to it and start again. Please excuse my Australian spelling of words. And all manners of reviews are welcome. I'd love to know what you think.