My first fanfic, please review :)

I stifled a yawn as I glanced down at my watch. Midnight. Sighing, I flicked my eyes back to the computer screen and continued to type. My day had started as mediocre, and it had progressed to sheer dismal. I hadn't been particularly enthused to see the return of Eduardo (he had been in Portugal for the past month) that morning – as much as I loved the man, our daily 8am ritual was not something which needed repeating. Lucky for me, Miranda had been in later than usual, so despite being forced to sing the chorus of Heart's "Alone" at the top of my voice, I had made it in before her.

I was becoming restless, irritated at how long I had been sitting in this same seat when I heard her moving from her desk.

She strode out of her office, her usually impassive face registering surprise when she saw me seated in front of my desk.

"What are you still doing here?"

My lack of sleep answered with a disgruntled, "Working."

For a split second, the corners of her eyes tightened, but the flicker of emotion was masked instantly. The Ice Queen was good, I'd give her that.

She turned and moved towards the double glass doors which led to the elevator out of the Elias-Clark building, but paused after only a few steps. Slowly, she curved her body back to face me, her eyes never leaving mine.

I was frozen to my seat, consumed with a sudden desire to be nearer to her. Gradually, her Prada heels were inching closer to me, until she was standing directly in front of me with only the desk between us.

She seemed to be debating something, hints of confusion and desire flashing over her features as she stared at me, almost unblinkingly. Suddenly, her mask was back, her decision made as she placed both her hands on my desk and leaned forward. Slowly, neatly, she lifted one leg to kneel on the smooth wood, and in one easy movement she was on all fours in front of me.

And I still couldn't move.

"Why so sarcastic, Andrea?"

The corners of her mouth flicked upwards as I gasped, struggling to form a single coherent sentence. Her face was a mere inch from mine, every breath I took was catching in my throat – what was she doing?

"Well?"

That one inquisitive, seemingly seductive word was the end of my control, instantly I moved my lips to hers and fiercely crushed them together, my hands moving to her shoulders in an attempt to keep her near me.

Swiftly, she had pulled away, moved off my desk and walked away with her natural strut.

Moments passed with me slumped into my chair, staring where her beautifully long legs had been just moments before.

Shakily, I stood and followed very slowly. There was no way I wanted to catch up with her now. I travelled back to my apartment in shock.

Almost a week later, I was about ready to burst. How, just how, could this woman continue like nothing had happened? I couldn't carry on pretending anymore. It was impossible; Miranda easily ignored my presence all day long unless she had a demand – and even then, never once did she look me in the eye.

Whilst staring down at something that could easily have claimed her attention, she reeled off utterly pointless orders – I was starting to believe the facade myself, but I somehow knew that she was either embarrassed or regretful of our behaviour.

By Friday, exactly a week later, I'd officially had enough.

That morning, I had done everything in my power to look damn good in a vain attempt to get her attention; my make up was immaculate, I had curled my hair into natural-looking waves but the best part was my attire. The Prada skirt was in the most beautiful shade of purple, one I knew was Miranda's favourite, while the Chanel blouse was the perfect silvery-grey. I was showing an acceptable amount of flesh for work, but if she really did have any form of attraction towards me, it was enough to catch her attention. My highest Jimmy Choos completed the look, along with the matching jewellery I had "borrowed" from the Closet.

And that wasn't even the best part. I smiled to myself. Knowing Miranda would be behind me in less than 30 seconds, I deliberately took on a slight strut, flicking my hips just a little more in rhythm with each step.

The smile stayed on my face until I reached the doors and saw the exact same grin on Eduardo's features.

Please, not today! I pleaded with my eyes, but he didn't care. He knew, but he didn't understand, what it was like to work for Priestly.

He mimed through the door that I should sing "Fashion" by Lady Gaga before I be allowed through the door. Glancing round, I saw Miranda's car pull up, and I frantically tried to mime through the glass that this would cost me my job.

In return, all I got was a tiny grin. The man was evil.

I could hear her heels against the sidewalk as I began,

I am, I'm too fabulous,

I'm so fierce that it's so nuts,

I live to be model thin,

Dress me – I'm your mannequin.

At this point, I heard a small cough behind me. Eduardo's smile turned into hysterical laughter. There was no way he was letting us in until I finished the entire song.

"Andrea. Is there any reason we are not entering the building? Did you lose the ability to open doors when you gained bad taste in music?"

At this point, Eduardo spoke loudly through the glass.

"She ain't comin' in here til I hear ma sonng!"

"I'm so sorry, Miranda. He does this every day, he's not kidding about not letting us in." I babbled in her direction.

"Then I suggest you finish."

I gaped at her.

"Sing."

I began from where I left off, the French part of the song.

J'adore Vivienne habillez-moi

Gucci, Fendi et Prada

Valentino, Armani too –

Merde I love them Jimmy Choo.

Fashion, put it all on me

Do you wanna see these clothes on me

Fashion, put it all on me

I am anyone you want me to be.

At this point, I had turned away from Miranda entirely and was giving Eduardo a look of pure hatred.

By the time he buzzed us into the building, and I instantly marched through the doors at a pace that matched Miranda's for once. Usually, I was a good few metres behind her because she disapproved of running, but not today. I stormed ahead – or so I thought. She was beside me, keeping pace with apparent ease.

"Your accent needs working on."