*It was the strangest thing...

I've tried my hands at fiction here. The first paragraph of my story has been chosen randomly from a novel that I've not read, and I've built my story as a continuation to the paragraph. It's on Page 5 of "Perfect" by Judith McNaught. I have no idea what the original book is about; did not want to influence my imagination so did not peep at any of the other paragraphs or pages.
I've continued the selected paragraph according to my own imagination. Let's see how it works out:

IT WAS THE STRANGEST THING SHE WOULD EVER DO IN HER LIFE...

Self-consciously aware of her shabby jeans and grubby jacket, she glanced uneasily at the elegant waiting room where fragile porcelain figurines reposed on an antique coffee table and valuable bronze sculptures were displayed on marble stands. Giving the table with its fragile knickknacks a wide berth, she headed for a chair beside a huge aquarium where exotic goldfish with flowing fins swam leisurely.

Just as it was supposed to be, she thought, glancing around.

The receptionist had given her a perfunctory look – which had turned quickly to one of disdain upon seeing her spoiled, dirty ensemble – and directed her to wait here, had she not? So why was she feeling so nervous about this meeting? she thought, as she focused intently on the vibrant copper colour of the goldfish. Feeling another bout of nausea stealing its way up, she shook her head, as though the almost imperceptible movement would help her get rid of the web of fear clinging to her mind.

The door to her left contained sheets of frosted glass, and through them she could make out a dark figure approaching from the innards of the office. She squinted to register the details of the person through the glass, but it was impossible; all she could see was a blurb of black moving towards her through the door.

Fearing that she would lose courage at the last moment, she got up suddenly and held her body straight with her eyes directed at the door. She had to do it, however foolish it may be. She had to give it a try, at least, or she would forever regret the missed chance. If things worked out well, which she doubted, she could take it further one step at a time.

But that was just too much optimism on her part. She knew the outcome of this meeting that was about to take place. There was a good chance she would be considered insane for saying what she was about to say to that person moving towards her, but she did not have any other choice; her heart would not let her have any! She will get it over with, and then, maybe, she could get on with her life as though nothing had happened.

The door opened and he entered the room, clad from head to toe in immaculately cut black suit teamed with a crisp, perfect white shirt. The man she had come seeking walked up to her and stopped a feet away from her, eyeing her with a strange expression of foreboding. She stared at him - ill at ease with the proximity - taking in his appearance. He was a good six inches taller than her five-feet-six-inch frame. Tanned and fit, he had a grim mouth set in square, solid jaws and a mass of thick black hair cut to perfection. His most striking feature, however, were his eyes: deep grey, cold, and alight!

Just as she knew them to be.

Her wide green eyes roamed over his face in the hope of finding a responsive expression, if not for anything else then to reassure herself she was not making the biggest mistake of her life.

She found none.

His expression was inscrutable. There was something bothering him but he was hiding it brilliantly behind his dispassionate demeanour, obviously accustomed to masking his emotion behind a façade of cold nonchalance. She knew this about him, just as she had known the other details.

They kept on looking at each other for a few second. Their eyes showed no trace of recognition for each other. His cold eyes revealed impatience, while hers betrayed a mixture of confusion, fear and anxiety. It would have been quite evident to an onlooker that these two people had never crossed each other’s path before in life. There was total, utter lack of any kind of familiarity with each other. He, with his perfectly-tailored suit and commanding persona, reeked of an expensive and impeccable upbringing. She, with her shabby clothes and uncertain disposition could not have possibly sprouted up from anything other than plebeian roots. And yet, there was something unsaid tangible in the atmosphere.

Déjà vu?

He kept on looking at her, waiting. She did not want to keep on looking at him; she tried to tear away her gaze but it was futile. Like the porcelain figurines lying on the table, they both remained speechless, transfixed, rooted to the spot.

Finally, he raised an eyebrow, letting her know he was waiting for her to introduce herself and state her purpose of meeting him, especially since she’d fixed this rendezvous in such an unusual manner. What made it even more unusual was the fact that he had, despite being one of the most inaccessible eccentrics, decided on the spur of the moment and consented to this harebrained idea. Something had felt right, acceding to this meeting. Unusual. Unheard of, in fact.

She opened her mouth to speak but no words would come out. She stopped trying and just stared at him.