(A/N-Okay so I wanted to do a little Christmas project for the month of December, I'm currently about 3/4 the way through. It's why I haven't updated the other stories. But I will be doing some updating soon. Now back to this, some stories will have more of a Christmas theme, some more some not so much. Starting today I'll be updating one of these Christmas stories every day of the week. My first story is called First Christmas and I'm starting it today and ending it this Saturday. Next Sunday, will be a whole new story. Hope all that makes sense. Hope you enjoy! And please review if you can, I can't tell you how much I appreciate them.)
*Tris POV*
She's pretty sure he's following her.
Ever get that feeling? Like bugs crawling on your neck, or a tiny needles pricking you from the back? The urge to turn around and face whatever it is? She's getting that right now, big time, and it's stressing her the hell out. Today of all days, she doesn't need to be stressed out. She glances down at her watch. Already five minutes late, and still two more blocks to walk in her new, nude pumps, which are pinching and scraping against her feet, by the way.
She's got an interview at the Eaton Headquarters. A big one. Her first "real" job.
Hopefully she'll be able to hold it together in this interview. She's really nervous, although she's been telling herself that she just needs to be herself, show them that she's qualified for this job, and not do anything too embarrassing. But actually, before doing any of those things . . . she needs to deal with her creepy, stalking ex.
She quickens her pace and glances over her shoulder. Casually. Like she's just checking the traffic or something. Yep, there he is. He's trying to play it stealthy, like he's in some movie or video game, but his attempts at blending in with the crowd are laughable. He sticks out like a sore thumb precisely because he's trying to do the opposite. Talking dark sunglasses, hat pulled down over his eyes, ducking behind trees . . .
God, Peter, give me a break.
Pete's her ex. Recent ex. And the breakup didn't go well—or rather, she should say, it didn't go well for him. She was the one who ended things between them, once she finally came to her senses and realized he was a humorless, cheating, controlling asshole. Yeah, she doesn't know why it took her so long, either. Eighteen months of her life lost to that man-child. Eighteen months she's never getting back.
How should she deal with him today?
She could completely ignore him, pretend like she didn't see him. Maybe that would be for the best, because attention is exactly what he wants from her. But what if he follows her into the job interview and creates a scene? Not even nepotism will make that better, and Peter's crazy enough to do it.
Or she could try and lose him in the heavy lunchtime crowd and the Christmas shoppers out. . . but there's no guarantee she'll be able to. Besides, that would mean taking a detour and she's already running late. No. The best thing to do is confront him, tell him exactly how much of a childish, weirdo asshole he's being, and hope he walks away . . .. or gets hit by a bus. That would be handy. She slows her pace a little and stops outside a coffee shop. She peers in through the window, like she's trying to see if someone she's looking for is in there.
All the while, she's keeping track of Peter's ghostly reflection on the glass. He's still slinking through the crowd, thinking she hasn't noticed him. He comes to a halt at a bus stop about fifteen yards from her, and that's when she decides to make her move. She steps away from the coffee shop and marches toward him, a frown of disapproval firmly fixed on her face. He panics at first, his eyes flying wide open. Then, he seems to come to the realization that he can't get away, and so plays at nonchalance, leaning against the bus stop post and pretending to check the timetable.
She stands right in front of him where he can't pretend not to see her, hands on hips. "Peter, what the hell are you doing?"
He makes a show of looking really surprised—a really poor attempt at a show, but she guesses he gets points for trying. "Tris? Wow, funny to run into you here. Small world, huh?" He looks her up and down and it makes her skin crawl. What the hell did she ever see in this creep?
"Really?" Tris asks. "I catch you red-handed, and you're going to pretend like you were here anyway, taking the bus at lunch time?"
He shrugs. "What's so suspicious about that?"
She pinches the bridge of her nose. Her head hurts. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down, she continues, "Peter, you would never be caught dead taking buses. 'The domain of bums and crackheads' is how I remember you describing them."
"Changed my mind." He shrugs again.
"Look, Peter, let's be honest with each other here, okay? I know you're following me. You damn well know you're following me." She follows his darting gaze until she successfully stares him right in the eye. "Can we not play stupid freaking games?"
He opens his mouth like he wants to carry on with his pathetic excuses, but she cut him off.
"Whatever you think you're doing, just stop." Tris holds up a hand. "It's over, Peter. It's never coming back. We're done. We're finished. Thanks and goodbye. Stop following me. Get a life."
She turns to walk away, but he grabs her arm. Hard. Probably hard enough to leave a bruise.
"Don't walk away from me, Tris," he hisses, leaning in close. "We're not done until I say we're done."
Fighting the urge to shrink away from him, she makes herself as big as possible (not easy when you're 5'2" on a good day) and get right up in his face. "Listen to me, Tris." Her voice sounds much steadier than she feels inside. They're in public so she can scream for help at any time, but after eighteen months of walking on eggshells around him, she has to constantly remind herself he holds no power over her unless she gives it to him. "Take your hand off my arm. Turn around, and walk away. I don't want to see you anymore. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want a damn thing to do with you. You get on with your life, and I'll get on with mine."
"No, I don't think I will," he sneers. "I want some answers. Why did you leave without saying anything to me? Why do you feel like you need to get a job? I always told you I would take care of you, and I meant that. Eighteen months of my life I gave to you, and I think I deserve an explanation!"
Peter's what some women of a certain age would call "traditional." She would use the term "chauvinistic asshole." His idea of the perfect relationship is one where the woman stays at home, raises the babies, and has dinner ready by six when hubby comes home from work.
And he doesn't like to take "no" for an answer.
"You do not deserve anything from me," Tris tells him. "I wanted to leave, and I did. Let's leave it at that before more feelings get hurt, yeah?"
His face twists into an ugly, angry mask. "No other guy can offer you what I have. You're making the biggest mistake of your life, and you're too fucking stupid to realize it."
That's it. That's enough. She doesn't have to stand here and have this ape paw at her.
She wrenches her arm from his in a sudden movement. "Get lost, Peter. And stop following me. If I see you again, my knee is going to end up buried in your crotch. Or I'll call the cops and tell them you're harassing me. You need to accept the fact that we're over, and move on with your life."
Before he has the chance to say anything else, she's striding away from him, feeling pretty good about herself. She spent too long not standing up for herself when it came to Peter, and it feels good to not take any more of his bullshit. She doesn't even look back to see if he got the message.
She's now about fifteen minutes late and starting to get scared that if it take her any longer, there won't be a job waiting for her at Eaton's. Even though her brother, Caleb, has arranged it for her and pretty much told her that she's guaranteed to get it, she doesn't want to make a bad impression.
To make matters even more complicated, the interview is with Four Eaton. The same Four Eaton who's her brother's friend. The same Four Eaton on whom she used to have the most embarrassing teen crush. And the same Four Eaton who has never even showed a hint of returning that interest. He was a few years older; she was an awkward, gangly teen. Well, it was awkward all around. Cringe-inducing, you could say, probably, if you were an observer of their interactions back then.
It was a weird time in her life . . .
Her parents had died, really suddenly, in a car crash. She was only fifteen years old at the time, and it was like her whole world came crashing down around her. Caleb was twenty, and he basically went from brother to parent overnight. She guessed she was looking for someone to latch onto, and Four was there. Tall, handsome (really freaking handsome), and kind of detached and aloof in that way that makes him seem intriguingly mysterious.
They never had a conversation about "us" because there was no "us." But he must've sensed her feelings because he distanced himself from her, letting her down gently and kindly. She had been devastated for a while. Her whole world was colorless. Once she went away to college a few years later, she sort of came to terms with the fact that she'd never see him again.
But she will, today.
She really wanted to impress him in the interview. So she's walking along—toward the Eaton building and away from Peter—feeling good, and then she accidentally bumps into someone. A guy, wearing what looks to be an expensive suit. He's holding a takeaway coffee and it splashes all over him.
A pristine, pressed white shirt, and now it's covered in a big dark stain.
She's mortified, but she doesn't have time to stop and apologize. "I'm so sorry," Tris says without breaking her stride. She just needs to get to this interview, get it done, and start this new chapter of her life.
*****************************PAGEBREAK**********************
Four POV
Are you fucking serious?
This is a new shirt, he's got a packed schedule, and now because some airhead can't watch where she's going, there's a huge brown stain on the damn thing. Goddamn it, he's got a huge meeting with the board today, a ton of paperwork to catch up on, and the interview with Caleb's little sister too.
That woman doesn't think she has time to stop and apologize? He's the one with a multi-million dollar deal on the line today. Just his luck to have a shitty start to one of the biggest days in his career. He stands there on the sidewalk, surrounded by the milling lunchtime crowd, and wipes at the coffee stain with a paper napkin he snatched from one of the busy food trucks nearby. Great. The stain is now smeared over an even larger area of his brand-new shirt. He's just making it worse, and there's no way at all he's getting it off.
Breathe, Four. Take a breath, and cool yourself down. It's just a shirt.
He pulls out his cell phone and checks the time. Shit. He's already twenty minutes late for the interview. Tris, his buddy Caleb's little sister, is probably sitting there outside the interview room, sweating buckets. He remembers her from years back when she was living with Caleb just after their parents died in that car crash. He used to go over there to hang out with Caleb, and she was this awkward kid, maybe fifteen or so, and she had the hugest crush on him.
Caleb used to rib him about it, but he felt kind of bad for her. She was way too young for him, of course, but she was definitely pretty in her own way. They never talked about it or anything, but he tried to let her down gently. He avoided spending time alone with her, and he said things like, "You're like the sister I never had," any chance he got.
And then she was gone, off to college.
Caleb and him have stayed friends even though he still lives in Seattle. Tris actually living here in Denver now, but he just learned about that from Caleb recently. Both him and Caleb have been so busy with work these days that he doesn't get the chance to hang out with him that much anymore. So it was a surprise when he texted him a while back after hearing he was looking for a new assistant.
Caleb promised him Tris was qualified and motivated. And to be honest, he doesn't have the time to vet candidates and all that shit. He just wants someone to help him out. So today's interview is mostly a formality, but he does still want to meet Tris to make sure their personalities don't clash and she's not a total flake. He pulls up her contact info and types out a quick text message.
Hi Tris, sorry I'm running late. I'll be there as soon as I can. Just take a seat in the lobby and I'll be with you ASAP.
Okay, now that's dealt with he can focus on replacing this shirt. Spotting a GAP, he ducks inside.
"Hello, sir. How can I help you?" One of the assistants approaches him with a big, customer-service grin.
"I need something to replace this. Your best quality shirt."
"Right away." The assistant nods, his grin widening, no doubt sensing potential for a big commission.
While he waits for the kid to come back with it, he takes a seat by the row of fitting rooms. He thought of this morning's text message from his friend Zeke, saying how Shawna had the perfect girl for him. Zeke and his wife were blissfully happy with their family, their little girl Chloe and Four knew they thought he should follow suit.
He knows their little family seems happy, and he's happy for them . . . but it's just not the life for him, even though Shawna was a nice enough girl. He just couldn't see himself settling down with a wife and a kid like Zeke is doing, even if his life has gotten a whole lot more stressful lately.
"This is the best we have, sir." The assistant's voice jars him back to the retail store, where a handful of lunchtime shoppers are browsing. He's holding up a blue shirt with great flourish, using both hands, no doubt trying to make it look as fancy as he can. "I think it'd look great on you. Would you like to try it on?"
He doesn't have the time. "Nah, that's okay. Here, give it to me, would you?"
Four takes the shirt, strips off his soiled one, and put on the new one, right there in plain view of the entire store. The kid's eyebrows rise for a second before he gets them under control. It's probably not the most civilized thing to do, just getting half-naked in public, but he doesn't really care. He's got bigger fish to fry today.
"Thanks, I'll take it," Four says to the slack-jawed sales assistant. He hands him a few bills. "Keep the change."
Striding back out onto the street, he glances at his watch again. Half an hour late now. Here's hoping Tris' the patient type. He hurries along the street—Eaton HQ is only a couple blocks away from here, and the walk shouldn't take too long, now that the lunchtime crowds are thinning out. Five minutes later, he's staring up at the huge, imposing skyscraper. He quickly walks into the lobby and sweeps the huge, expansive space with his gaze. When he spots Tris, his eyes stop.
Damn, what on earth happened to that awkward kid?
What a difference a few years can make. In his mind's eye, Tris was still going to be that kid with braces and zits who couldn't ever look him in the eye. But now? Well . . . it's a good job this shirt fits well, or he'd have to loosen his collar a little.
She's filled out . . . like, really filled out. Her lips are full and red, and her blond hair frames her face in a pleasing mess of curls, cascading down her back. Where there used to be skinny limbs, there are now beautiful, soft curves. And the swell of her breasts beneath her blouse . . . he's struggling to focus on anything else in his immediate vicinity. It takes him a few minutes to register that this is actually his friend's kid sister because she's changed such a lot. But yep, that's her.
Well, this could get interesting.
He's about to approach her, but then he stops and takes a moment to let his blood cool down a little.
He needs to keep a couple things in mind. Firstly, this is Caleb's little sister, and he's sure he's not going to want one of his oldest friends flirting with his baby sister. Secondly, after what happened at the end of his last relationship, he's pretty much sworn off any kind of commitment.
So it would be better for everyone involved if he casts aside any thoughts whatso ever of him and Tris in anything except a professional relationship. No flirting, no innuendo, no nothing. He takes a deep breath, pull himself up to his full height, and makes his way over to her.
She still hasn't noticed him yet, but she looks uncomfortable and on edge, her shoulders tense, and her big, doe eyes darting all over the place. To be expected, he guesses—who actually looks forward to a job interview, after all?
But he soon realizes that it's not the interview she's nervous about. That much becomes clear when he's around twenty feet away from her, right about to call her name and introduce himself. Before he can, a guy in dark sunglasses comes rushing over from the main entrance He grabs Tris by the arm. She pulls away from him, but despite her struggles to get away from him, he doesn't let go. He's got a deadly serious expression on his face, and Four can tell he means business.
Guess this interview isn't going to be the non-event he thought it was going to be.
***********PAGEBREAK*************
Tris POV
She glances over her shoulder a few more times as she makes her way to the interview, but she doesn't spot Peter. She even starts to relax a little by the time she arrives at the huge glass and chrome monstrosity that is the Eaton Headquarters building. Still, there's an interview to get through and she's a sweaty, nervous, anxious mess. It's just like Peter to show up at the worst possible moment to ruin her day. She's in a very familiar at this point with how inept Peter is at hiding, so it's encouraging that she hasn't seen him. Maybe he got the message, maybe he'll actually leave her alone and let her get on with her life.
When they were dating, he would hardly even let her leave the house. He's so controlling and neurotic that he demanded to know her whereabouts at all times. It's taking some adjustment to move on from him, to feel like she's actually free to go where she wants, when she wants, with whom she wants. She feels a quick pang of guilt, thinking about the guy whose coffee she spilled. He seemed good-looking, tall and broad, from the quick glance she'd had. And the shirt she ruined looked expensive as hell. Normally, she would've stopped and been all apologetic, offered to pay for the poor guy's shirt, probably try to awkwardly wipe it all off of him . . . but a combination of being late and Peter the creep being in close proximity meant she had no choice but to rush off.
All told, it hasn't been a good day so far.
She pulls out her pocket mirror to check herself. The curls she spent so long on this morning are all out of shape, there's a particularly unattractive sheen of sweat all over her face, and her clothes are all rumpled from rushing around in the midday heat.
Wonderful.
She's just starting to panic when her phone buzzes in her pocket. It's a text message—from Four, of all people.
Hi Tris, sorry I'm running late. I'll be there as soon as I can. Just take a seat in the lobby and I'll be with you ASAP.
Oh, thank God. She's never been more glad to hear that someone's going to be late.
Her day's starting to be better already.
Walking through the revolving glass door and into the Christmas decorated lobby, Tris winces from the pain in her feet. Now that the adrenaline has somewhat worn off and she knows Four's going to be late, she wishes she didn't run in her new, painful shoes. Inside the huge and opulent space, she gapes at the sculptures and prototypes of the various hi-tech gizmos that the company has created over the years. It's all very ostentatious.
She goes to the restroom to freshen up a bit. Telling herself that she's going to be fine that she's got this. Once done, she takes a seat on a couch in the lobby and waits. As she waits, she thinks about how much Four might have changed over the years. Caleb has told her how he's a big shot. He was one of the richest and successful men in the country.
And she's going to be working right under him.
If she gets this right, this job could be an insane opportunity. All she needs to do is not put her foot in her mouth during the interview. Unfortunately, she has this habit of talking too much when she get nervous. She's so into thinking too much that she doesn't even notice him coming until it's too late.
Suddenly, there's a hand clamped on her arm. Peter yanks her up to her feet, getting way too close.
"You think you can just run away from me like that?" he asks in a threatening tone. "I don't think so, Tris. We're not done until I say we're done."
Tris' heart sinks. Just as she thought her day was getting better.
"Peter, seriously, get freaking lost. How did you even find me?" She put on her fiercest voice, glancing at the security guard standing by the revolving door—who, unfortunately, has his gaze riveted on a cute girl's butt.
Peter sneers at her. "Guess I'm more resourceful than you give me credit for, huh? You can't just go sneaking around behind my back. Who are you here to see?"
She tries to wrench her arm free from his grasp, but he doesn't budge. "Get the hell off me," she growls even as she grimaces in pain. "Or I'm going to make good on my promise from before."
He doesn't seem fazed. He's got a wild, look in his eyes. Little, icy tendrils of fear run down her spine.
"I always knew you were a cheating whore," he hisses, spittle flecking his lips. "Who are you here to see? Your new man?"
"I'm here for a job interview, you creep. Get off me and leave me alone."
"A job interview? Who did you sleep with to get that?" He laughs in her face.
"I suggest you take your hands off of her. Now," says a deep, commanding voice.
Tris whirls around, but it's not the security guard she sees. A guy, tall and muscular, stands there with his arms crossed, fixing Peter with a stare that could melt a glacier. As Peter lets go of her arm, she winces and clutches it. That's going to leave a bruise, asshole.
"And just who the hell might you be?" her ex spits, his face upturned to glare at the new guy who stands a head taller than him.
Her hot-as-sin savior walks over to stand next to her, and she almost jumps out of her skin when he puts one of those biceps protectively around her shoulders. Peter's eyes almost pop out of his skull.
"She's with me now," says Mr. Tall and Handsome. "Right, Tris, sweetheart?"
She turns to look up at him. He smells good, and the proximity of his hard body is making her forget how to form words, but she tries her best. "That's, uh . . . that's right."
"So," the guy says, his voice rumbling ominously, "I think you'd better leave."
Peter looks apoplectic with rage. His face is turning a strange shade of purple and the veins of his neck are pulsing.
"Bullshit!" Peter practically shouts. "Do the two of you even know each other?"
Seeing as Peter has been tailing her for weeks, he's probably seen her going everywhere on her own. Her mind is blank as she tries to come up with something.
Luckily, Mr. Tall and Handsome saves her from having to lie.
"Of course we do. Tris was telling me this morning when we woke up—" he pauses to throw her the sexiest, panty-melting smile, dimples included "—that the loser she used to date might come and try to screw up her interview, so I decided to come along with her just in case." He gestures at the exit dismissively, then levels his sharp gaze at Peter. In a calm-but-deadly voice, he says, "So leave. Now."
Peter takes a menacing step forwards, which is almost funny because he looks like a few matchsticks held together with glue in comparison to the chiseled physique of her mystery protector. As it happens, though, there's no showdown because a couple of burly security guards—including the one she saw standing by the revolving door—show up out of nowhere and grab Peter under the shoulders.
"Get him out of here," rumbles the voice at her side.
She watches, jaw hanging open, as Peter is dragged, kicking and screaming, out onto the street. He continues to cause a scene once outside, but the security guards stand impassively at the doors, arms crossed, until he eventually leaves, throwing out a few more curse words as he shuffles off impotently down the street.
"So . . . he seems like a nice guy," says Mr. Tall and Handsome with a killer smile on his gorgeous face. "Anyway, now that that's dealt with, shall we get on with your interview?"
Tris turns to face him, her jaw dropping open even wider. "F-Four?"
***********************PAGEBREAK*************
Four POV
"F-Four?" Tris asks, his name sliding deliciously through her full lips in a way that makes him wonder what it'd feel like to kiss her.
"The very same." he takes a little bow and shoot Tris a grin.
She looks pale and a little panicked. Not surprising, considering the way that weirdo was grabbing her arm and getting right up in her face. He's seen enough creeps like that in his time to know that they don't have any issue getting physical when it's against someone who can't fight back.
"Sorry for putting you on the spot there with my little white lie, but I figured you could use some help dealing with that . . . guy."
"No, no, it's fine; it's . . . well, thanks," she stutters as she plops her beautiful ass down on the couch, her legs a little shaky. "He followed me the whole way here. I confronted him and figured I'd gotten him to back off earlier, but I guess he's more desperate than I realized."
"Are you okay?" he asks, concerned now. "Did he hurt you?"
She looks up at him with beautiful, grey eyes. "I'm fine. Thanks, Four. I'm just a little shaken up."
Four resists the urge to reach down and pull her into a protective hug. She looks so vulnerable; he just wants to tell her everything is going to be okay. He almost does. The urge is so strong, but then he reminds himself of what he thought when he first saw her.
Stay professional. She's your employee now, nothing more.
"Are you sure? We have a medic on site. Shall I call her down to take a look at you?" he asks.
"No, Four. Really, I'm fine." As if trying to convince him, Tris gets up to her feet. He's got to say she's already looking better, like she's making an effort to shake it all off. "I just figured the worst thing that could happen today would be me flunking my interview—not watching my crazy ex get dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the lobby. But now that has happened, I figure things can't get much worse, right?"
Her ex, huh? He thought as much, but it's nice to hear a confirmation. That means they've probably just broken up. That means she's single. Despite his resolve to stay professional, he can't help the spark of hope flickering in his chest. Stop it, idiot.
"So . . . yeah, let's go get this interview done. I'm not even nervous now. Isn't that weird?" Tris laughs then looks embarrassed, her smooth, soft cheeks turning a rosy shade.
Adorable.
"Sorry," she says, looking up and giving him a little smile. "I, uh, have a habit of talking too much when I'm nervous. Just tell me to shut up if it's bothering you, okay?"
He opens his mouth to tell her she's doing okay; she's doing perfectly fine.
"Should I even be saying all this to you?" she asks before he gets a chance to say anything. A look of concern crosses her beautiful face. "I'm supposed to be impressing you and making you think I'm actually going to be good at this job. Because I am—going to be good at the job. Not just . . ." she trails off, bright patches of red rising to her cheeks.
It's the cutest fucking thing he's ever seen, and he's struggling to control his hands from reaching up and feeling the heat in her face. But that would be the opposite of professional. He should say something, right? But it's so fun watching her go on like this. He suppresses the smile that wants to spread across his face.
Tris takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a few moments, and then opens them again. "Let's start again; shall we? Hi, Four. Nice to see you again after all this time!"
With a bemused smile, he shakes her proffered hand. "Hi, Tris. If you'll come this way, we can get this interview underway."
She returns his smile, her eyes so bright they almost seem like they're glowing. He swears his heart pauses for a split second. It feels like she's peering straight into his soul. Unable to take any more of that intensely beautiful gaze, he turns away from her, leading the way toward the elevators as she follows quietly along. It doesn't look like Tris has realized he was the guy she spilled coffee on, but at this point, he's not even mad about it anymore.
"I almost didn't recognize you," Tris says in the elevator as it climbs all the way to the top of the tall skyscraper. "But I guess we can all change quite a lot over the course of a few years, huh?"
You can say that again.
"We sure can," Four says, casting a glance at her. "It took me a few moments to recognize you, too. I still remember the days when you were just an awkward kid, tagging along while I was hanging out with Caleb."
"Oh my God," she groans. "Don't. I've been cringing about that internally all morning. I used to follow you two around like a little, lost puppy. Remember that time when you two were drinking beer, and I snuck one?"
Four laughs at the memory. "How could I forget?We came up to your bedroom and found you in a heap on the floor, barely talking sense. After one beer!"
She blushes again, shyly looking down. As she does, the way her blouse moves gives him a glimpse of a lacy black bra and a hint of the creamy white skin of her breasts. At the stirring in his pants, he takes a breath and averts his eyes.
Jesus, Four, get ahold of yourself. A glimpse of skin, and you're getting a hard-on? Over your friend's little sister? What are you, fourteen? Pull it together. Fuck.
Luckily, Tris is too preoccupied with being embarrassed to notice the direction of his gaze. He stares at the panel with the floor number the rest of the ride. Their floor finally arrives, and they step out of the elevator.
"My office is just up here," Four says. "Follow me, and we can finally get this interview done and dusted."
A few moments later, they're sitting on opposite sides of his desk. Tris has a little notepad and pen in front of her and suddenly looks all business. He's honestly quite impressed. "First off, I want to apologize for being late. I was on my way over here, but someone happened to spill coffee on me out on the street. I had to buy a new shirt." He cocks her a crooked grin. "It's okay, though. The perpetrator had an important interview to rush to."
Her lips part in surprise. "Oh my God. Was that you?"
He nods, enjoying her reaction.
"You're not just teasing me?" she narrows her eyes at him, leaning forward in her chair to examine him more closely with those bewitching eyes.
He shakes his head. "Nope, really me. But hey, we're here now, right? And that's what matters." He hadn't planned on mentioning it, but he couldn't resist. And now she's blushing again, except this time, it's spread to her upper chest too. She's dangerously adorable. Leave it to him to torment himself with this girl that he knows he can never have.
"Look, Four, after everything that's happened today, I'll understand if you don't want to take me on," she says, her words tumbling out of her mouth. "I'm a walking disaster. I know that."
"Stop, please," Four says, holding up a hand with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. "I don't want to hear any of that nonsense. We all have bad days, and hey, at least today will be memorable. A new shirt and a near-fight, all before lunch? Most days I've barely woken up properly by now."
She breathes a sigh of relief.
"And Tris, if that creep ex of yours comes sniffing by again, let me know, okay? He seems like a really nasty piece of work, and no woman should have to deal with that. Tell me if he causes you any more trouble, and I'll get it dealt with. Promise me."
She hesitates for a few moments.
"I want to make this a comfortable work environment for you," he adds.
"Deal," she eventually says, "but you have to promise not to say anything to Caleb. He already has enough on his plate, and I don't want to add to his worries. Peter's a jerk, but he's all bark, no bite. You probably scared him enough already."
"Okay," he says reluctantly. "But don't keep this to yourself. It could be dangerous."
"I'll keep that in mind." She nods. "Four, is there anything I can do to repay you for that shirt I ruined? It must've been terribly expensive."
"Don't worry about it," he says, waving a dismissive hand.
"Really?"
"Yeah, seriously. Let's move on," Four says. "I'm afraid this interview is going to have to be short. I've got a big meeting later on, and I need all the time I can get to prepare for it. So, you're applying to be my personal assistant. It'll random tasks and whatever admin stuff I don't have time for. You think you can handle that?"
"Sure can," she nods. "You can rely on me. I'm actually not as much of a disaster as I might appear after the events of this morning. I'm organized, I'm good on the phone, and I'm used to dealing with assholes."
Four chuckles at that last one. "Those are all useful skills."
She catches herself, looking panicked. "Not that I'm saying you're an asshole. But, you know; the stereotype of big business guys and stuff, they can be assholes. So . . . I'm good at dealing with them. Not you. But I'll be good at dealing with you too."
"That's good."
"My God." Tris leans back and pinches her temples. "I really am trying my best to not get this job, aren't I?"
He's laughing now, and it feels good. He wasn't joking when he told her his work days tend to lean on the boring side. Looks like that's about to change, though. "No, you're actually completely right," he says. "Plenty of suits are complete assholes, and I hate dealing with them. So if you can do that for me, I'll actually be really grateful."
Her face lights up in a stunning smile, and damn, there goes his cock again. She's going to be dangerous. Going to have to watch himself with her. She's fucking gorgeous.
"Great," she says, giving him a mischievous grin. "I'll be your premier asshole handler. Could I have that title on my door do you think?"
They both burst out laughing, and he knows he's made the right choice in taking Tris on. If nothing else, at least his days will be more interesting.
"So, when can I start?" she asks. "Is there anything you need me to do today? I want to make up for the time you lost having to buy a new shirt and stuff. If you've got that big meeting later. You can probably use all the time you can get, right?"
He glances at the stack of accounts that need filing. "Well, there are these. I've been putting these damn things off for a month." She leans over the desk, unwittingly giving him another glimpse of her cleavage as she grabs the stack of papers.
"Accounts? Where do they need to go?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
He turns his monitor slightly to show her the software they use, and as she moved her chair around to sit next to him, she stumbled and ended up landing right into his lap. Despite his best efforts, it's a struggle to stay focused when she smells so good, and to keep her from feeling how his body was reacting to her.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Tris said as she moved from his lap.
"That's ok," Four says as she sits down beside him.
"I can do this," she says, brushing against him as she reaches for the mouse. She seems familiar with the software already. "Go and prepare for your meeting. I'll have this all done by the time you're finished."
He smiles, glad to be rid of the damn things. Having a PA is going to be awesome.
As he crosses the room and open the door to leave, a thought strikes him. "Hey, you really want to repay me for that shirt?"
Tris glances up from the computer. "Of course. You can take it out of my paycheck, but maybe not all of it from one paycheck. Maybe we can do it in installments, or—"
"Tris, I'm not going to dock your pay," he cuts her off, chuckling. She really is cute when she gets all frantic.
"Oh." A relieved gust of air escapes her mouth.
"Can you keep Saturday night free, though?"
"Sure, I guess. What for?" she asks, a quizzical expression on her face.
"Well, that would be telling, wouldn't it? Sometimes, I'm going to need you to accompany me outside of traditional office hours. That won't be a problem, will it?"
She frowns, uncertainty flitting across her face. "No, I don't think so. But . . . it's not a date, is it? I'm not that kind of girl, Four."
He can't tell if she's serious or not.
"Don't worry," Four says. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to. Promise. Although . . . you may find yourself doing things you don't usually do . . ."
"Well, aren't you a regular man of mystery?" she teases with a little smile. "Okay, Saturday night is now blocked out on my calendar. The hot date I had planned with a tub of ice-cream and the TV is just going to have to wait until another time."
She returns her attention to the paperwork, and he turns and leaves the office. He knows he should be hyper-focused on this meeting, but he just can't stop thinking about her . . .