The Making of Mia by Ilana Fox

– and she looked down at the grey-blue
     carpet that led to the office. Nothing seemed spectacular any more, and her nerves got the better of her. She wondered if
     she’d made a mistake. Jo wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to bite her tongue in front of this secretarial Nazi, and
     she didn’t see how she’d be able to get headhunted if she was crammed into a small room away from where the action was. Maybe
     this wasn’t the way into the industry that she had hoped it would be.
    ‘This,’ said Frieda, interrupting Jo’s train of thought, ‘is the editorial office of
Gloss
magazine. You’re not to speak to anybody in this room, or disturb them.’ Frieda often showed new girls this room to make
     sure they knew their place, and she pushed the doors open with a flourish. Jo drank in the view.
    In the large open-plan office sat about twenty slender and beautiful girls who were dressed – like Rachel – in black. The
     sun streamed through the large windows and bathed them in a glorious gold as though they were blessed. Some of the girls walked
     industriously around the office, but many were on the telephone, speaking in languid voices and laughing falsely. Several
     of the girls were peering intently at photographs of models, and one was opening a package of what looked like designer clothes.
     ‘Oh, look!’ she heard her say in a breathy, little-girl voice. ‘It’s a new couture Dior gown – how wonderful of Nicholas to
     send it. It’s darling!’
    ‘To the right is the executive suite,’ Frieda said hastily, ignoring the rush of the editorial staff to look at the shimmering
     turquoise dress and cutting into Jo’s reverie. Jo tore her eyes from the glittering sequinned gown and looked towards the
     executive suite with interest. There was no timefor elegant dresses when Jo had to concentrate on filtering into the editorial team. She stood on her tiptoes and caught a
     glance of an attractive man in a beautiful charcoal suit through a glass-walled office.
    ‘Madeline Turner, who won Editor of the Year last year, sits in the office to the right, and in the end office, the biggest
     one, is Joshua Garnet.’ Frieda looked at Jo knowingly. ‘He’s taking a keen interest in this magazine at the moment.’
    ‘Do you mean,’ Jo began, before Frieda raised her eyebrows at her to lower her voice. She started again. ‘Do you mean that
     Joshua Garnet himself works in this office?’
    Frieda led Jo out of the office and shut the door firmly behind them. ‘Yes, and you’re not to approach him.’
    ‘But I thought all the Garnets – apart from Harold – were silent directors and preferred to take a back seat on their investment,’
     Jo thought out loud, and Frieda looked at her sharply.
    ‘You seem to know a lot for a twenty-year-old secretary,’ Frieda remarked with one eyebrow raised, and Jo remembered that
     she was here to work as a secretary, and not a wannabe journalist.
    She thought quickly. ‘Felicity, at the agency, provided me with some background reading. I have a good memory.’
    This placated Frieda somewhat. ‘Yes, it is unusual for a Garnet to take an interest, but he appears to have a knack for these
     high-end magazines. He acts as publisher for
Gloss
and several of the other titles but he’s paying particular interest to this magazine at the moment. Josh Garnet has a golden
     touch. Circulation has improved with his input.’ Frieda looked at Jo and decided to take pity on her. She looked so young
     and suburban. ‘Circulation is what we call the number of magazines that are sold.’
    Jo nodded distractedly – she was still astounded at the news that Joshua Garnet actually worked on the magazine.All the press coverage she had read about Joshua Garnet when she was at school had said he was a millionaire playboy who spent
     his evenings in exclusive private members’ clubs with blonde models for arm candy. Perhaps, she thought, he had changed his
     mind about not working