Hey guys, new story. This one brings the same comedy and Naomi/Emily shenanigans as the others, well equipped with romance and attitude. I hope it comes off how much fun I had writing this while you read it. Thanks and enjoy!
Summary: Naomi is a successful entrepreneur who invests in other people's businesses, although, her money is always accompanied by her attitude and frequent sarcastic mockery. Emily is desperate to start a nightclub in place of her job as a bartender and is willing to challenge Naomi and put up with some irritating behavior to follow her dreams. What happens when the strict lines of professionalism blur with unpredicted love?
Chapter One: Nothing Wrong With A Little Pride
Beneath the golden drapery elegantly hanging over the four banisters of the luxurious canopy bed, a figure stirred. The silky-soft, white sheets and heavy, elaborately-stitched, golden comforter came alive; contorting with every stretch of their master until out popped two delicate hands that folded the top of the bedding over. A content smile spread across the woman's face, each end of it nearly meeting the peroxide blonde curls that were spread across the pillows. Her blue eyes sparkled as they slowly opened, adding to the breathe-taking beauty that encompassed her. After a satisfying yawn, she scooted from the middle of the king-sized mattress to the edge in order to reach the small set of buttons on the side of her custom-made, carved-wood night table. She held down the button furthest to the left as she spoke, "Thomas, can you have a coffee waiting for me when I get down." She released the button and waited for the familiar French-accent to respond.
"Good-morning, Miss Campbell. You're freshly brewed coffee will be waiting patiently for you at your office. The clients have already begun arriving. Shall I notify them of the standard wait?" She thought in her bed for a moment, "I suppose that would be the considerate thing to do, however, I think I much prefer seeing how they react to the unpredictability of it. You know, from a business reliability viewpoint." Her smile curled into a smirk. Who was she kidding? She loved sitting in her office and enjoying her coffee while watching the clients on her TV monitor through surveillance camera get all fidgety and increasingly impatient, with the occasional outburst of frustration. "Of course. Will that be all, Miss Campbell?" "Yes, thank you, Thomas."
The blonde stretched one last time before leisurely getting out of bed and walking into her grand bathroom. The touch of her cold feet against the heated, black tiles triggered the automatic lighting. She slept naked so she had on no clothes to remove before showering. Another doorway opened into a large space with several silver showerheads spread across each wall. She slowly slid the sliders of the switch in the doorway upward until water was streaming from every showerhead and covering any place that had once been dry. She hit the next button on the switch and watched as water simultaneously began simulating rain from slats in the ceiling. Lastly, she turned the dial to the right until steam began to wrap around her body and fill the rest of the room. There was no way for her not to relax as she stepped into the space. The pressure of each drop washed away every tense feeling in her body. She took her time shampooing and conditioning her hair with the large selection of top-quality products lining the shelf on the wall. When she noticed her fingers beginning to wrinkle she finally decided it was time to exit and turned all the water off. Grabbing the folded towels from the white stool beside the shower, she wrapped her body and her hair tightly in cottony softness. She then stood in front of the massive mirror above the counter with silver faucets, taking a moment to appreciate herself all freshly cleaned. It didn't take her too much longer to do her makeup and curl her hair that fell just a tiny bit below her shoulders. The blonde returned to her room and went inside her walk-in closet, filled with an excessive amount of well-organized clothes, and contemplated what to wear. After several minutes she was able to settle with an eye-pleasing, white dress that hugged her thin body and ended just above her knees. She accessorized lightly, wearing the gold ring of her late father which she wore every day, in accompany to a small, gold necklace she had bought herself recently. Her height increased substantially in the black heels she wore, although, she was already fairly tall without them.
It had been three hours since she had awoken when she was descending the grand spiral staircase into the lobby. She withheld her smirk, something that was quite difficult the first few times she did this to her potential clients but became incredibly easy after three years of the same routine, and watched the faces of everyone who had been waiting for her change from incredibly annoyed to hopeful relief at her presence. She almost felt bad she still wasn't going to take anyone for at least another thirty minutes. Almost. A while after she closed the door of her office and sat down in the leather chair behind her clean oak-desk, with only a laptop and phone on it, she could hear someone shouting in the lobby. Excited, she removed the remote from inside her desk and flicked on the TV mounted on her wall, already on the surveillance channel. She sipped her coffee, hot like Thomas had promised, and laughed at the man in a grey suit yelling at Thomas, "I made an appointment for eight-thirty this morning. It is now one pm. What the hell is taking so long?!" Thomas was holding his open hands in front of him, "Please calm down, sir. Miss Campbell is a very busy woman and will make sure she gets to talk to everyone who showed up today. She appreciates your patience as well as everyone else's," he gestured to everyone else who was sitting on the couches, although some of them looked as ready to explode as the man who was pacing in front of Thomas, "I assure you, the wait won't be much longer." "Well how much longer, god damnit?!" "Yes, how much longer will the wait be, Mr. Tomone?" another woman joined the inquiry. The blonde watched as Thomas removed his mobile from the pocket of his sharp, black suit and dialed a number in front of everyone before placing the phone to his ear. "Hello, Miss Campbell? Everyone is wondering when you will be ready to begin... Yes... I understand… Alright, I will relay the message to them." The blonde amusedly watched her phone that never rang and listened to the conversation Thomas was supposedly having with her. She muffled her laughter between beneath her hand, enjoying Thomas's well-improvised, fake phone call. He returned his mobile to his pocket and addressed the group, however, not before being interrupted by the pacing man, "and?"
"She says, soon," Thomas answered calmly.
"SOON?! SHE SAYS SOON?! WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?! I CAME HERE AT EIGHT-THIR-"
"Yes, sir, I know. She will be with you soon. I will personally make sure she sees you first, sir." The man looked to the group who had been watching him carefully before deciding that he was satisfied with Thomas's proposal. He returned to his seat with what little pride he had left while everyone else returned to staring at random things around the room.
Miss Campbell threw her disposable coffee cup in the bin and watched for a few more minutes before calling Thomas and telling him to send the first person in. She remained seated with her hands clasped as the man with the grey suit entered and offered his hand to shake. Taking the hint that she had no intention of shaking his hand, he nervously sat down in the lone seat in front of her. Structurally, the seat was lower than the one the blonde sat in, making any person sitting before her feel belittled. "You are?" She asked in a disinterested tone. "Leslie Potts." "I see, and what kind of business venture are you here to convince me to invest in today? Would it be the a restaurant, Mr. Leslie Potts?" His face reddened as he registered what she said, "Are you mocking me?!" "Absolutely not, Mr. Potts. I would never treat a client disrespectfully. So, I'm assuming it is not the restaurant industry. How about the ever so necessary lavatory industry?" "I beg your pardon?" he was baffled by her. "You know, like a piss pot." She kept a straight face despite his skin color hilariously quickening in color change. "I will NOT tolerate this audacity!" "You're right, I admit, that one was a bit of a stretch. Would you like to tell me your business already? Because it's already been…" she looked at her watch, "three minutes of my time." Fuming with rage, the financially desperate Mr. Potts managed to answer, "I am going to start a taxi service business." "Are you? Fascinating." "Are you going to ask me any questions about it?" "No," she said nonchalantly. "Well, are you going to invest in me," he demanded impatiently. The blonde leaned forward on her clasped hands, "Mr. Potts, to be as blunt as your asking me to be, I would not invest in either you or your taxi service on any given day." The blonde counted to three in her head before the expected reaction began. "YOU FUCKING INSANE CUNT. YOU SHIT-FACED BLONDE CRAZY BINT!" At this point, Thomas entered the room and gently took the arm of the furious man and escorted him out, "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! YOU'RE GOING TO HELL YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH! NOBODY BOTHER GOING TO HER, SHE'S A COMPLETE PSYCHO, ABSOLUTELY MOTHER-FUCKING BONKERS!" The laughter from the others at his expense only spurred him on further, but at least he was compliant enough to stay outside once Thomas shut the door behind him.
The interviews continued, albeit with responses not nearly as maddened as the first one despite her rejection. The feeling of hopelessness increased as the remaining group got smaller and smaller. Although, one girl among them all seemed to have held on to her confidence in spite of the failure of all those exiting Miss Campbell's office. Further differentiating her from the group, the girl's bright red hair stood out amongst the black, grey, white, and navy suits of the others. The blonde's eye was constantly drawn to her in the surveillance video when she turned it on during the small gaps between each interview.
As the last girl with an appointment, Emily had spent the day looking for ways to entertain herself from her seat on the comfortable, Victorian-style couch. She spent hours looking at the decorative and very unique paintings displayed on the walls, she spent awhile texting whomever she could on her phone but everyone was busy at work, she even counted all the squares artistically embossed in the ceiling. Most recently she was staring at a tray of cookies beside an espresso machine and fruit bowl that had been set up on a small coffee table in the center of the room. Her stomach rumbled because the last time she ate was at breakfast about nine hours ago. She checked her watch, five-thirty pm, late enough to be an early dinner. It was not as if they had been formally invited to help themselves to the refreshments. Glancing at the office's doors, she saw no sign of movement and decided to move to the couch closest to the tray, not feeling quite ready to risk taking a cookie yet even though she was starving.
The blonde had moved to the kitchen from a door on the side of the office, joined by Thomas for some dinner. They continued to watch Emily debate whether to take a cookie or not, amused, on the TV in front of the dining table. "Alright, Thomas, I bet you ten pounds she is not going to take it," the blonde announced after taking a bite of her steak.
"Really? I will take that bet. She is definitely going to take that cookie; she has got to be very hungry by now. She has been here since early this morning."
"Hmm, I will raise it to one-hundred because I'm that confident she's not going to. You see the way she keeps looking if anybody is watching, she's too nervous to take it."
"That is indeed what you said yesterday and you won, but I think that she," he paused, pointing to emphasize her on the screen with his fork before eating the potatoes on the end of it, "is different."
They finished eating, returned to the Miss Campbell's office, and after an hour passed without Emily taking it, the blonde was satisfied with her cumulative win, "it's been an hour Thomas, I think it's time we call it off and say I've won again."
"I really thought she'd be the first to take a cookie," he sighed and pulled out the bet money from his wallet and gave it to her. "You should have listened to me, Thomas!"
"Perhaps next time, Naomi," he shrugged.
"I doubt it," she laughed triumphantly, "I suppose you can let her in now," she turned off the TV.
With a white smile that stood out brightly against his black skin, Thomas greeted Emily, "Last one of the day, yes? Are you ready?" He usually did not have the courtesy to ask if an interviewee was ready because it did not really make a difference one way or another, but after being particularly invested in Naomi's bet without Emily's knowing, he felt somewhat closer to her than one of the random people that come everyday. "I believe so," she shrugged. Thomas turned around to lead her into Miss Campbell's office as Emily's stomach let out a loud growl.
He turned on his heel, "Hungry?"
"Yeah, a bit," she blushed, "maybe I'll just…" she reached down and took a cookie as she passed the table, missing the brief second that Thomas smiled to himself. Right as he was about to open the door for her, Emily asked, "Should I just finish this first?"
"No, no, Miss Campbell knows you have been waiting all day, she will not mind." Holding the giant chocolate-chip cookie, with slight regret of not having eaten earlier so she wouldn't be so unprofessionally nibbling during an interview, she nervously stepped through the opened door. The blonde slipped the money in her hands she had been looking at beneath the desk into a drawer and clasped her hands on top of the desk before looking up. First, Naomi noticed the giant cookie and squinted her eyes and pressed her lips together for a second, seems I will be returning the wager, before recovering and taking in the rest of the girl. She took no shame in making Emily feel incredibly intimidated as she gave her a once-over which quickly turned into a double-take when she saw her beautiful brown eyes… her perfect chest hugged tightly in a sleeveless, low-cut, graphic t-shirt… her tight, black, skinny jeans. Naomi realized her quick look had somehow turned into staring or what may even be considered ogling and cleared her throat, forcing herself to casually look back into Emily's now suspicious eyes. "Dressed rather… casually today, aren't you?" Naomi stated, happy with her recovering statement. Caught off guard, Emily closed her mouth as soon as she opened it. She was sure her potential investor did not want to hear an excuse about a roommate trashing the house, including her wardrobe.
"Well, take a seat," Miss Campbell motioned to the empty chair. Emily took a deep breath to regain her confidence and obediently sat down, "It's nice to meet you Miss Campbell. I am Emily Fitch." She stretched her hand, the sixteenth hand to be offered that day, out over the desk. Naomi glanced down between them at the slender fingers protruded in her direction and was surprised to find her own fingers encasing them. What the fuck? You never shake hands with potential clients. You're losing it, Campbell! Naomi abruptly took her hand back and returned it to its rightful place, clasped with the other one on top of her desk and watched as Emily attempted to find a suitable place for her own, remembering she was awkwardly holding a cookie. "Do you mind if I…?" She held it up to Naomi. "You could do worse," she shrugged. Unsure exactly what Naomi meant, she figured the interview would go better if her stomach didn't make any more awkward noises and took a bite, "fuck, that's good." Naomi rolled her eyes, this girl felt like a joke, completely unprofessional. Emily misinterpreted the reaction, "Shit, sorry, do you want some?" She broke off a piece and held it out, a few crumbs escaped onto Naomi's shiny desk. The blonde grimaced, "If I wanted one, I would have Thomas bring me a fresh one. I would not take one that has been getting stale on a table all day until it was removed only to be held in more likely than not, sweaty hands." Embarrassed, Emily took the cookie back and just held all of it together in her lap trying to make it invisible and pretend nothing happened. "So, Emma, what is it you'd like me to invest in?" Naomi smirked, intentionally saying the wrong name, her pride now completely restored since the accidental handshake.
"My name is actually Emily, and I want to start a nightcl-," the red head didn't flinch.
"You? A nightclub. You're a timid little thing. You don't even look the type," Naomi interrupted.
"Yeah, well I'm full of surprises. If you just let m-"
"Shhh, Emma, listen to me. Do I look like I would invest in a nightclub?" The blonde leaned back in her chair confidently and raised her eyebrow.
"Again, it's Emily, not Emma. And honestly, I don't think how you look is relevant…" Emily raised her eyebrow in return; she had dealt with these types of people before and knew they liked to be challenged.
Naomi unknowingly took the bait and crossed her legs, relaxing further as her own confidence and perhaps ego grew, "Ah, but Emma, of course it is relevant! This dress is by a new yet popular designer named Andre Vestrio; it fits me perfectly and looks gorgeous, but most importantly, it is very expensive. I would be like you, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, if what I invested in didn't make any money. To put it very simply, I look how I look because I invest in what I invest in. Why would I invest in your potential nightclub? I'm sure you've looked at some rates and know that it would require a lot of my money with minimal chance of success. You are very mistaken if you think you are the first to ask me for such an endeavor and not one person has managed to persuade me."
"Miss Campbell, before I try to convince you I would like to say, as politely as I can, that you are going out of your way to say the incorrect name in every one of your sentences, so if you are going to continue saying a name every sentence, I would appreciate it if you would start calling me by the correct name."
Naomi pressed her lips together tightly, hiding her shock from the peculiarity of someone beating her at her own game, or at least trying to.
Emily continued, "You should invest in my nightclub over anyone else's because," she leaned on the desk with her arms folded similar to how Naomi would lean forward on her clasped hands, "I have resources other for everything else I need, I have the experience and skill as showed in the resume I sent you, and everything is well thought out in the detailed plan I sent with my resume. The only thing preventing me from being successful is the initial financial necessity." Naomi didn't hear anything Emily just said; she had been highly distracted by the sexy cleavage slightly showing, being pressed against her desk. She could see a glimpse of black lace before she knew she had to say something. Don't admit you didn't hear her, that you were distracted. Don't damage your pride now. "I will invest in you—your nightclub, I mean." Emily's face lit up, not expecting to have convinced Naomi that quickly. Emily had already been preparing everything to say in response to a sarcastic remark in her head but those thoughts were all gone now, instead, were all the thoughts of her career plans coming to life.
"Excuse me a moment, I'll be right back." The blonde hurriedly walked through the side door and down the hall into the single bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, "What the fuck did you just do?!" She splashed some water on her face and was trying to figure out ways to back out of her offer. Her mind kept flashing to the black lace and panicking escape ideas. All because of a pair of tits. I don't even like tits. I don't like my tits nor do I like anyone else's. Think about the business. Forget her tits. My investment money. Her tits. It's all going to fail. Tits. Fucking hell, I need to get laid. Some good dick will set me straight. I can figure out how to back out later. I am a successful entrepreneur and businesswoman; this will be no problem.
When Miss Campbell returned, a surprised Thomas was already congratulating Emily. She just wanted the girl out of her office so with a congratulatory shake and meaningless business jargon she was able to escort the redhead all the way to the front door without her even actually realizing. Emily only noticed she was moving when she was stopped on the front step outside, "Well have a goodnight Emily, we'll schedule a meeting to figure out the details later." Naomi was about to close the door on her face when Emily stopped it sharply with her hand, "Shouldn't we schedule it now?"
"No, no, my people will contact your people and it will all be taken care of, goodnight now!"
"But I don't have people. When will you contact me?"
"Soon, give it a few days. Goodnight Emma!"
"My name's not Em—" The blonde finally managed to get the door shut and breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned against it for a moment in case the redhead somehow got it open again. Satisfied the girl outside had made no further attempts she sunk into one of the couches in the living room and turned on the TV for some mindless relaxation. It was not long before Thomas joined her and was watching her. After half an hour of frequent brief contact she couldn't take it anymore, "What, Thomas?" "Why did you do it?"
"Do what?" She faked cluelessness.
"Why did you invest in Emily?"
"You mean Emma?"
"I would think you'd want to know the proper name of your new investment."
"Hey, she's not my investment, her business is. Names are not a priority." Naomi muttered defensively.
"Ah, that's what I thought."
The blonde let another twenty minutes of trashy reality TV pass, his words lingering in her mind. What was what you thought? What did you think? I'm innocent here. I have money to invest in what I want. So what if I intentionally say her name wrong, I will still make the same amount of money. It's all about the money. Black lace. Okay that's fucking it! As if out of nowhere, Naomi shouted, "What did you think?!"
"Sorry?"
"You said, 'that's what I thought,' well, what the fuck do you mean by that?!" Her arms were crossed and her lips were pressed together nearly turned white, her slanted eyebrows a blatant sign of her aggravation.
He chuckled, "I think you fancy her."
"What? That's ridiculous, I couldn't fancy Emily. She's a girl and I'm a girl. I don't even know her."
"Ah, so now you know her name!"
"Does it even fucking matter?"
"I think it does," he chuckled, "by the way, Naomi, I believe you owe me some money for that cookie."
"Ugh, fuck off, I'm going to bed," she pushed herself off the couch and stormed up the steps, her frustration evident in the louder and quicker than usual echoing of her heels against the marble flooring. Even the sheets and blanket had to deal with her attitude, her harsh tossing and turning caused by her inability to sleep. She checked her clock, it was only nine-thirty pm. Fucking great, way to tell him you are going to bed way too fucking early just to stop a conversation. She hit the switch on her nightstand and watched as the large, plasma TV popped out of the wall. She flicked through the channels rapidly until she was back to the reality show she had been watching downstairs. On the show, the cast was going out for some beers. Naomi muttered her own sarcastic insulting commentary to everything and laughed at her own jokes. As several of the cast sat at the bar, Naomi's eyes widened at the redhead bartender. The show recorded the guys making crude comments about her as the redhead made their drinks further away from them. Naomi's thoughts were confirmed when she saw those beautiful brown eyes and those soft-looking lips ultimately combined with the red hair asking them if they wanted anything else. You've got to be fucking kidding me. She wanted to turn it off but couldn't out of her sheer curiosity to learn more about Emily, even if only through a small, coincidental, reality TV appearance. Resigning her hope for more once the show credits started, she turned off her TV and closed her eyes. Naomi did not want to risk her sanity with the possibility of seeing Emily unintentionally one more time before the night was over. Her thoughts raced until she couldn't think anymore, only sleep. What the hell am I going to do? What the fuck am I going to do? I mean, what the…
Alright, that's all for now folks. Please leave a review or suggestion if you have the chance. Thanks for reading!