-Guilty Pleasure-

-Yep, I gotta brand-new chapter-fic for you guys. Though it's gonna be really short, and I don't even know what the ending is yet. XD I can't wait for you to read this, guys. It's a tiny story where Newt works as a personal assistant for the owner of a large company in Glade City. The owner is Minho, who is a young billionaire with a long list of past assistants who all took advantage of the position. Most of the story will be short scenes of them in the elevator they take every day to go to Minho's office. I really hope you like it! I've fallen in love with their characters in this story, especially Minho's.

Reviews, as always, are very appreciated and I'd love to hear from you :)-

Newt remembered the first time they were alone in the elevator together.

He was standing up straight, the way he always did, dressed in the usual black suit that guys wore here. His hands were occupied by a manila folder. It was thick with paperwork, for some new project he didn't know or understand. It wasn't his job to understand. His job was to simply help the person who would soon be reading these papers. That person was standing next to him now.

Minho Park, owner of Park Industries, was waiting patiently for the elevator doors to open. His expression was just as neutral as it always was, his jet-black hair spiked just as perfectly as ever. His fitted suit showed off his broad shoulders nicely. His hands were linked loosely behind his back, because there was nothing else to do with them while he waited.

He was a young, successful, billionaire. Perhaps the youngest to ever set foot in this pristine building. His father had done the same thing and Minho had seemed all too happy to continue the family business. Now, he was the most successful man in Glade City. And he was only twenty-four years old.

Newt knew that he wasn't the only personal assistant Minho had had. There had been dozens from what he'd heard. Some were men, some were woman; Minho didn't seem to care either way. But all of them were fired after only a month. Every time thirty days rolled around, Minho uncovered some dark secret about them and they were let go. It had become a tradition here. The other employees joked about it constantly, even snickering behind hands when Newt passed them by. The reasons for the assistants' departures were always the same: some of them wanted to find a way to steal money from a billionaire, some were sharing secrets of the company to competitors, and some just wanted to see if they could end up in bed with famed Minho Park.

But he would never sleep with an assistant, Newt thought to himself, almost laughing at people's foolish audacity. But at the same time, he couldn't help but think that he didn't blame them for that part at least. Minho was wealthy, young, and to top it off, stunningly attractive. Newt found himself sneaking sideways glances at his employer on a daily basis now.

Ironically, Newt was the only personal assistant that actually had more of a chance with Minho than any of the others. He hadn't been working there for a month. He'd worked for two. Sixty whole days, he'd been in this building, taking care of Minho's every need. He didn't mind. It was a good-paying job, especially since Minho insisted on a raise halfway through the two months of Newt's employment. The other workers suspected favoritism, and they quickly hated Newt for it. Everyone wanted to be liked by Minho Park. He'd never shown that he'd liked anyone before. Not like this.

Anyway. Every day, they ended up in this elevator, on their way to Minho's office on the top floor. Newt was almost always holding something like the folder he held now and Minho took nothing. This was, however, the first time they'd been alone in the elevator. No other black-suited men around them. Just them.

The air felt charged with electricity.

"You have everything?"

Newt blinked, faintly surprised. Minho never asked him things like that. He was Newt, patient, organized Newt. He always had everything. "Yes," he answered anyway.

"Good. And did you send those papers to Edison?"

Thomas Edison was newer here too, though his rank was a bit higher than Newt's. "Yes," Newt said again, polite, but puzzled. Did Minho doubt his work now?

"Good." Minho had lowered his eyes from the elevator doors to the floor as he waited. He seemed to be fighting with himself, as though there was something he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he should say it. Finally, he took a breath. "You're doing well, Isaac," he remarked.

Newt inwardly felt a prickle of discomfort. He would've preferred to be called by his nickname, but of course, he understood. Minho was his boss. "Thank you," he mumbled, not really good at taking compliments.

"You like it here, don't you?" Minho asked.

"Yes. I mean, it's all right."

"All right?"

"Well. There's a lot of pressure, sometimes."

"I see." Minho glanced at Newt then, his expression questioning. "Not from me, though?"

"Oh—no, not from you," Newt stammered. "Just...from everyone else, I guess. They expect me to mess up at some point, considering your past with personal assistants." He stopped then. He didn't want to sound rude.

To his surprise, Minho chuckled. "I can understand that."

"Am I...doing something wrong? I'm sorry, it just seemed like you were asking a lot of questions."

"No, no, you're not doing anything wrong." Minho's mouth tilted up at one side, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You're doing fine. You're easily my best assistant."

Newt felt a slight blush warming his cheeks at the praise. He smiled, and thought of saying something else, to keep this new conversation going. But then a little ding sounded and the elevators doors slid open. The white-and-black hallway opened before them. Newt gave a small sigh of disappointment and followed Minho out of the elevator, back toward his office.