Disclaimer: This is my first WWE story and will probably be a two-parter. Starts with mostly angst and fluff, eventually will turn into smut. Hope you enjoy!
Don't leave - Part 1
I met him in a way only corny romantic comedies allow two people to meet: in a quirky essentially impossible situation where your eyes meet and time stops; someone has to apologize for bumping into the other whilst they're too taken aback by the sight of you to remember why they might get annoyed. He was wearing a fancy suit and towered above me with a nonchalance I'd never seen in anyone else; the look of someone who knows who they are and doesn't mind standing out from the crowd. He smiled at me as if to reassure me that regardless of his imposing stature, he wasn't a threat. He wasn't fazed that I'd just splashed half of my morning coffee onto his white buttoned up shirt and cursed like a sailor trying to stay upright after running into what seemed to be a very large, hard and surprisingly warm wall. His hands were softly placed on my upper arms, a worried look on his face as he looked down at me, making sure I wasn't about to fall over after our collision.
"Are you alright?"
His voice was low and gravely, but with a softness that melted my heart right away. He seemed genuinely concerned about my well being, and I could only stand there with my eyes like two rounded balls and my mouth slightly opened.
"Miss?"
Miss. I let out a chuckle and swiftly covered my mouth with my hand to cover it up. How old was I, thirteen? I regained my composure and summoned all my courage to stare him right in the eyes. Soft, baby blue eyes, still with a hint of worry.
"I'm fine," I said, in a voice I could barely recognize. I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "I'm good. I'm okay."
He smiled once more and nodded, seemingly amused, and took a step back away from me. Only then did I remember where I was: in a coffee shop, in a fast run-in to grab coffee before heading into an interview for a new job. I'd been so unfocused that morning, barely working on any sleep, having been too anxious about my morning meeting. I was only a block away from my destination and incredibly early, trying to get into an appropriate mindset before the interview. Heading into a busy coffee shop had seemed like a better idea than pacing my apartment running my marketable skills through my head.
"Good," he laughed. "I'm good too, thanks for asking," he joked.
I was mortified.
"Oh-oh I'm sorry! I- oh man your shirt is covered- I'm so sorry, are you hurt? Did I burn you? Are you okay?" I rambled, snapping out of a haze. He laughed and wave the whole thing off.
"I'm messing with you," he said, and I let out a sigh of relief. "I'll be alright. Let me get you another one of those," he added, pointing at my half-emptied coffee cup.
"Oh no, you don't have to do that! I was the one to bump into you, you really don't have to replace it."
"Honey, I think you got the worst end of it – let me. I insist."
Honey. I felt a flush on my cheeks and couldn't find it in me to disagree with him. He seemed satisfied when I didn't say anything and walked back to the counter to order a new coffee. I stood there awkwardly, still blushing and holding on to my spilled coffee. From afar I could see how immensely bigger he was from everyone else, how large his shoulders were, how proudly he carried himself, how tight his suit was, how he wasn't wearing a tie, and the first three buttons of his shirt were undone, how much older he was from me, but more importantly, how absolutely attractive he was. I was fresh out of college, early twenties and all, while he had to have been in his forties. He didn't seem older when he spoke though, only more mature, and more experienced.
I shivered at the thought and let my eyes fall to the ground. This was a stranger, who I knew nothing of, and who was covered in hot coffee because of me. Now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts. Before I could fully realize how ridiculous I was being he was back in front of me, new coffee in hand, and handed it to me with a grin.
"Here. Sorry I almost knocked you out."
"Thank you. And I'm fine. It really wasn't all that bad," I answered, and the twinkle in his eye made me realize how it must have sounded.
"Oh really?" he teased.
"You know what I meant," I insisted, blushing once more.
"Sure I do."
I gulped, feeling warmth envelop my entire body. He smirked at me and I nearly whimpered, catching myself just in time with a clearing of my throat.
"Listen, I-," he started, and as though it was finally time for the first bump on the road of what was our corny romantic meet-cute, his phone rang. He reached for the inside pocket of his suit jacket reluctantly and his face fell when he saw the name popping onto the screen. "I have to get going," he finally said, and I could barely hold back my obviously disappointed face.
"Oh."
"It was nice meeting you," he said, and his hand brush my arm once more. "Try not to run into people anymore." I chuckled.
"Yeah, I'll try not to. Though I did get a whole new coffee for it," I joked, dancing my brand new cup in my hand, and he grinned back at me. He was already backing away, and I could feel a knot growing in my stomach.
"I'd have been a fool not to find a reason to talk to you," he said, winking, and my mouth fell open once more. That made him chuckle, and the sound of his laugh was the last thing I heard before he disappeared out of the front door.
It took me a solid minute to look away from the door, transfixed as I was, unable to wrap my mind around what had just happened. He had been obviously flirting with me and I had looked like the biggest idiot in the whole world, like I'd never spoken to a man before.
I finally sat at a table, waiting for when it was time for my interview. The walk to the meeting place took me about five minutes but felt like a lifetime, for I was not only freaking the hell out about the interview but still completely ablaze after my impromptu run-in with a handsome suited man. The secretary led me into a small waiting area and said something about someone being right with me, and I remember nodding at her with half a smile. I don't remember much from that moment, but what I do remember is how loud I exclaimed the words "oh shit" when the interviewer finally stood in front of me to take me to his office.
The coffee shop guy, with a new shirt, still large, tall and handsome with the three top buttons undone. A surprised smile illuminated his face and he laughed at my reaction, the same way he had walking out of the coffee shop.
"You're Mr. Helmsley?" I asked, still in shock but trying to move pasted my first reaction.
"Please, call me Hunter," he replied, nodding. "So that would make you Ms. Richards?"
"Katie," I corrected him. I, too, was not too fond of being called by my last name.
"Katie," he repeated softly. "It's nice to see you again."
And cue the romantic music.
The romance aspect of it all was short lived. In fact, once I was hired, I got down from the high of our special meeting quite fast. Mr. Helmsley… Hunter was not only my boss; he was my married boss. With kids. And the picket white fence and the big gorgeous house. His wife was a walking-talking utopia of what it means it be a strong, driven, successful working woman as well as a mother, and I could not help but feel foolish whenever I thought her husband might have liked me for even a second.
I had been working there a year, slowly sinking into what I could only describe as unhealthy fantasies about my boss and actual real feelings towards a man who was nothing short of perfect, when I finally concluded I must enjoy pain. He was kind to me, affectionate, flirtatious even at times (though I always concluded that it was all wishful thinking and I was imagining things), and so painfully professional. I was his assistant, and I was damn good at it. My work never went unnoticed, which only made it all the more difficult to do. It was two years in, after a long night where we both had had to stay late, me doing paperwork, him looking over an event, that he'd admitted to me that his marriage was difficult. That they had been having problems, for a while, but it felt like it would be more harmful to break it off than to keep it going, and so they did. I cherished that opening with all my might until I scolded myself for being a terrible, terrible human being. And so I comforted him. And I said nothing.
Three years in, I decided I'd had enough.
For too long I had been holding on to feelings I knew would never be returned. For too long I had been torturing myself, torn between my morals and my desires, my heart and my brain, what I knew was right and what I wished wasn't wrong.
"Come in."
I felt nauseous standing by the door of his office, slowly realizing this was probably the last time I would walk inside. The last time he would look up at me, making my heart jump through my chest. The last time I'd sit across from him wishing I was beside him.
My hands were folded over my thighs and I felt them trembling, a knot the size of a mountain building in my stomach, a ball of emotion piercing through my throat.
"I quit."
"What?"
I took a deep breath, trying to settle my breathing and focus on what I was about to say. I'd practiced for two hours in front of the mirror the night before, but my mind was blank now that I sat in front of him.
"I'm handing in my resignation."
Hunter seemed completely taken aback, and I couldn't blame him. I'd been working for him for long now, and we worked amazingly well together. I had given him no indication that I wasn't happy working for him, because I was. But I was miserable.
"Why?" he finally said after a minute. "Did- did I do something?"
"No! No, of course not," I reassured him, and I could tell he was still working his brain trying to figure out if he'd done or said anything to upset me into leaving. "I'm just. I need new goals. I've been here for a few years, and I've enjoyed it, but I'm ready to move on."
As I said those last words, I felt the weight of what it all meant and how I wished I truly was ready to move on, knowing how difficult it was going to be. I was seconds away from tears already and I hadn't even made it out of his office.
"Look, if this is about money, we can discuss something. I know you've been working here a while, and if you feel like your work isn't being recognized, I'm really sorry. I'll promote you, hell, I'll double your paycheck if that's what it takes," he started rambling, seemingly still shocked at my words.
"It's not about the money," I replied, and he shook his head. It's because I love you.
"Then what is it?! I don't understand."
I froze, not knowing what more to say, feeling that if I opened my mouth, I'd simply yell at him about how much I loved him. Just the thought of it made me feel dizzy.
"Katie, I need you here. You're the best assistant I've ever had. I can't even begin to think about how I could handle all of this without you," he insisted, and I could only look away finally feeling the tears slide down my cheeks. I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to snap myself out of this meltdown.
"I don't want to work for you anymore."
I started at my hands, knowing that if I looked at him I'd start sobbing, and I simply could not handle how embarrassing this already was.
"Do you mean that?"
No.
"Yes."
I quickly flicked the tears away from my cheeks, trying to regain my composure. I risked a look at him and regretted right away. He looked devastated, his shoulders down, his eyebrows raised, his eyes searching myself for anything that would explain my behaviour.
"I- okay," he finally said.
I felt like I'd been slapped in the face. Somehow, even after all this time, I'd hoped that my departure would spark whatever I'd dreamt was there between us. But it didn't.
I got up, extending my hand for a final goodbye, defeated but finally able to say that this had all been me and never him. He shook my hand, holding on a little harder than I'd expected.
And then he didn't let go.
He held my hand, staring at me, with an expression I couldn't understand. My breath caught in my throat, entranced by the stare, trembling from emotions, blushing at the touch of his hand in mine.
"I don't want you to leave."
He seemed as surprised as I was that he'd said it. I felt my heart quicken its pace in my chest, which I didn't even know what possible at that point. A massive shiver ran down my spine, originating from my hand, the one he was holding, harder it seemed, like he was afraid I'd disappear if he let go.
"I can't stay," I said, and more tears ran down my cheeks. I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to find my voice.
"Why not?"
"I think you know why."
There was silence and I knew that he knew now. He finally let go of my hand and I held in in a fist, letting it fall to my side. I felt like I'd been burned.
"It was nice working with you," I said, and turned to walk away. I had to get out of there as soon as I could or I would start bawling right in front of him, and there was no way in hell I was letting that happen. I made the few step to the door and had my hand on the handle when I heard his voice right behind me.
"Stop."
I jumped out of my skin and froze there. I could feel him right behind me, the heat of his body radiating on my back. I could smell his cologne and feel his breath on my neck. It was intoxicating. For a minute we just stood there and finally I turned the door handle, attempting to save my dignity, but his large hand swooped by me to land on the door next to my head, keeping it closed.
"Stop," he repeated, and his voice sounded lower, rougher. I let go of the door, breathing hard.
He dropped his hand as well and instead placed it on my hip, before his other one mimicked the gesture on the other side. My legs almost gave out when he used that leverage to pull me to his chest and wrap his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my right shoulder. He acted so dominant, and my legs felt like jelly under me. But when he spoke, his voice betrayed something I'd never perceived in him before; fear.
"Don't leave," he said, speaking directly in my ear. "I…"
I waited, hope crawling its way through my heart.
"Yes?" My voice was barely above a whisper. I could feel his chest pressing into me at every breath. He seemed just as shaky as I was.
"I think you know," he finally said. I let out a shaky breath, emotion flooding through me, and more tears ran down my cheeks, this time for very different reasons.
"Please don't leave," he begged, and I felt all my willpower melt away at once.
"I won't."
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