This is a gift for LemonSupreme's birthday...Happy Birthday, my friend! Hope it's a good one.
So this is my first ever AU for Charloe. Actually, I haven't done an AU for fanfic in years, so I hope this goes well. Post me a review to let me know. ;)
For anyone following my Valentine story (as well as all those others I owe updates for), I apologize. Right around Valentine's day, I realized Lemon's birthday was quickly approaching, so this became my top priority. And I wanted to get the whole thing done before I started posting it. But I will be working on the second chapter to Charlie's Rough Day and hope to have it up really soon.
This is a multi-chapter fic that is already completed. I will be posting a chapter every other day until we reach the end. :)
And I own nothing of Revolution. But if I had David Lyons, I would lend him to Lemon for today! Happy Birthday!
Charlie stood on the porch that ran the length of her house, stretching her arms and greeting the bright new day. The morning sun shone down upon her, and closing her eyes, she tipped her face up to catch its glowing rays. Light filtered through the trees surrounding her, leaves vibrant green from the warmth of a new spring. Breathing deeply, she inhaled their mossy scent and the freshness of the early morning air. She loved daybreak, before the hustle and bustle began, when everything was so still, so quiet. Nothing but the birds, the trees, the blessed silence.
An air horn blasted, snapping her out of her reverie with a harsh jolt. Her eyes popped open just in time to see a massive moving van pull in front of the house across from hers. Before she could blink, three smaller trucks followed, lining the other side of the street, and men jumped out of them, rushing around to unpack their loads.
"I knew it was too good to last," she muttered, bending down to pick up her Sunday paper. Flipping it over, she scanned the front page of the Philadelphia Daily News. "Woman claims she was possessed by living machines. Please. People will believe anything nowadays."
With her peaceful morning already interrupted, she headed back in, thinking she might squeeze a jog in before breakfast. Climbing the mammoth wooden staircase to the upper floors, she cast a thought to her new neighbors. She liked the serenity of the neighborhood, and she hoped no one would come along to ruin it.
When she'd first looked at homes in the palatial gated community of Willoughby Estates, the mansion across the street caught her eye. Before she could make an offer, her real estate agent apologetically informed her that it was off the market. Only hours before her arrival, the owner of a prosperous coalmine had laid down millions for it. Saddened, she'd toured her current house and fallen in love with its wood interiors and large windows. She'd written a check on the spot. As it turned out, no one ever moved into the house across the street, and it had remained empty for well over a year, until the sale sign went up a few months ago.
Tossing the paper on her bed, she hurried into the adjoining bathroom, yanking her thick golden hair into a ponytail and splashing water on her face. Dressing quickly, she threw on her workout clothes and snatched her iPod from the nightstand. The plan was to get in a short run, then get back, shower, grab some food, and spend the rest of the day going over proposals for Monday's weekly meeting.
Stretching her hamstrings, her mind raced over the clients she wanted to meet with later in the week. She'd worked hard to earn the title of media director at the Pittman Advertising Agency. Two years of putting in extra hours and working weekends paid off in the end, providing her with a job that allowed her to live in luxury. One she enjoyed as well.
Setting a slow pace as she started off down the tree-lined street, she allowed her body to take control and let her thoughts drift back to her job. Just last week, she'd pulled in a chic women's clothing line, snagging them right out from under the competition's nose. She chuckled, thinking of Aaron Pittman's face when he'd found out she'd landed Blackout Fashions. That bonus would last a while. But she was never one to rest on her laurels. If there was a client on the lookout for new representation, she was first in line to reel them in.
She knew the job made her tough, hard-edged, but she wanted to be the best, had to be. It amused her that some of her co-workers called her the Dragon behind her back. The nickname didn't bother her; she did what she had to do in order to get ahead. Besides, she'd never hurt anybody, never destroyed anyone's career to further her own.
Realizing she'd already been at it for twenty minutes, she turned the corner, picking up her pace on the way back. As she approached her driveway, a sleek, black Mercedes sped up the street from the opposite direction, swerving around the moving vans and rounding the curve into her neighbor's driveway. Curious, she paused at the edge of her property, anxious to catch a glimpse of the newcomers.
When the door opened and a handsome man got out, her heart plummeted. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
Sebastian Monroe glanced across the street, whipped his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head, and met her eyes. If he registered any surprise, it didn't show. "Well, well, Charlie Matheson. Fancy meeting you here."
Stalking over, she crossed her arms and glared. "You're the new neighbor?"
"Why, yes, I am." He flashed a smile, the arrogant and cocky one that seemed to charm everyone but her. "Are you on the welcoming committee?"
Her eyes flashed blue fire. "I wouldn't welcome you if my life depended on it."
Bass was as good-looking as they come. He was 45 now and easily looked ten years younger. Well-toned and muscular, with thick, dark blonde curls and glowing blue eyes, the only word she found to describe him was devastating. In addition to his perfect face and body, he was quick-witted and sharp-minded; he'd graduated in the top five percent of his class at Harvard. He was the CEO of Monroe Republic, the number one rival advertising agency to Pittman's.
Starting out with a handful of employees twenty years ago in Chicago, he'd pushed his small company up the corporate ladder until it became a top-notch organization representing a wide variety of clients, eventually moving its headquarters to Philadelphia after it went global. She hated him for it, and yet, a tiny part of her respected him for it as well.
Charlie knew all those handy little tidbits about him because she'd studied them. But she also knew them because he was her uncle's best friend, and she'd grown up just down the street from him. He'd practically been a part of her family back then, and she'd been very close to him and Miles in her formative years.
As much as she was loathe to admit it now, her crush on him had started at a very young age. And kept going until one day when she was 18, she'd kissed him at a family party, long after everyone else had left or gone to sleep. They'd been sitting around talking and thoroughly enjoying themselves. And flirting; even now, she refused to believe the flirting hadn't been mutual.
But after the kiss, everything had changed. For the first few seconds after it ended, she'd seen something in his eyes; something that promised her the future she'd always hoped for. Then it was just gone, shut down by Bass before it even had a chance to bloom. He wasn't even kind about it. In a cruel tone, he'd told her she was too young and he had no romantic interest in her. That was just about the time when he'd shut her out of the rest of his life too. Refusing to spend time with her alone, refusing to talk to her further about it, he'd pulled the plug on a friendship she'd come to rely on. And it began their constant battle with one another.
"Well, aren't you the pleasant one first thing in the morning. Remind me to stay out of your way," Bass said.
"You'll never get close enough to be in my way, Monroe. This is a respectable neighborhood." She motioned to the other houses around them. "People live pleasant lives. Happily and quietly."
"Well, I'll remember that when I throw one of my loud, drug-induced parties." Slamming the car door, he brushed past her on his way to the closest moving van. "By the way, if anyone should be enraged by their new neighbor, it should be me. I was the one you steamrolled to get Blackout to sign with Pittman."
That little victory brought a smile to her face. "Oh, that's right. But I did beat you fair and square. Although, the bonus for that is putting a new hot tub in my backyard. A big one."
"Rub it in, Charlie. But every dog has their day. Got to go now, sorry." He carried a lamp towards the house, holding it in one strong arm. It wasn't her fault that she noticed the muscles ripple. Crossing the street, she stopped when he shouted her name from his front lawn.
"I meant to tell you. You look good sweaty." Chuckling, he disappeared inside his cavernous entrance.
Upset that she'd allowed him to draw her into a verbal battle, and more than a little furious that he'd caught her in such a state of disarray, she kicked at a stone on her walkway, cursing him under her breath as she did.
He stood in the shadows of his foyer, watching as she returned to her house. It was every bit as beautiful as his, and he'd admired the rustic quality of it when he'd first toured the neighborhood. Of course, he hadn't known it was hers. What were the odds that he'd purchase the house of his dreams and have it situated directly across the street from his fiercest adversary?
Eyeing her now, he knew he'd gotten under her skin; the hunched shoulders were a dead giveaway. It was a favorite pastime of his, angering Charlie Matheson.
She was beautiful, there was no denying that. With that hair the shade of spun gold silk, fiery blue eyes, not to mention legs that went on for miles. As much as they argued, he found himself having a few fantasies about her. Still having fantasies about her.
When she'd been a little kid, she'd adored him, and truth be told, the feeling was mutual. He'd had fun with her, as she'd almost stepped in to fill the shoes of his beloved baby sisters, those he'd loved and lost so very young. Charlie had been only three when the accident happened, and Bass still wasn't sure he would have survived if it hadn't been for Miles and the Matheson clan.
Little Charlie had been the first one to make him smile after the loss of his family. When he and Miles had become roommates and moved in down the street from the rest of the family, she'd become his shadow.
He'd been aware of her crush as it developed, but he was certain it would never amount to anything and that she would forget all about her feelings for him when she became a teenager. Which was why he was so surprised when she kissed him that one fateful night. He'd noticed how beautiful she'd become; he would have had to be a dead man to not notice. But he'd restrained himself, forcing himself to remember that she was Charlie, his surrogate sister, his best friend's niece.
The kiss had completely shut his brain down for a few seconds. And just as it ended, for one split second, he had a vision of an incredible future. One where Charlie was his wife and the mother of his children. But then reality set back in, and he knew he had to do anything necessary to stop it all. He wasn't allowed to have her; she deserved someone her own age, and an incredible life he wasn't sure he could give. Charlie Matheson wasn't for him.
He knew he'd hurt her, and it still dug at him. But at the time he'd thought it was for the best. Whatever friendship had existed between them was long gone now. Not only that, but the rift between them had trickled down into his friendship with Miles. His best friend never knew what had transpired between Bass and Charlie, but when they pulled away from each other, Miles had obviously sided with his niece. While he understood, the thought of it still chafed him. He hadn't spoken to his best friend in seven years.
Charlie had followed him into advertising, whether it was on purpose or subconscious he did not know, and quickly become one of the best students at Northwestern. Graduating in the top percentile of her class, she'd worked exactly one entry-level position at another firm before grabbing a spot at the Pittman Advertising Agency.
Knowing she was going into the same field as him, he'd eventually shifted his company to Philly, thinking it would be safer than having constant interactions with her. How was he supposed to know she would wind up one of the top recruits at the much storied Pittman's, his chief rival in advertising, whose home base was Philadelphia? He'd watched her work her way up, secretly proud of her success.
But she'd never forgiven him, and he supposed he couldn't blame her. She also believed he was unscrupulous in business, not that she was really wrong. In advertising, it was a well-known fact that she had an iron will and a strong sense of ethics, something he had no trouble leaving behind. Going after an account, he wasn't afraid to do what had to be done. When they'd started going head to head over the same clients, a lot of the old animosity rose back to the surface. From that moment, the battle was back on.
She clawed at him; he clawed right back. Every time they met, sparks flew, yet he knew it wasn't entirely of the acerbic variety. Passion and heat collided whenever they occupied the same space, and more than once she'd left him with a biting remark and a monumental hard-on. He could no longer deny the sexual heat between them; she was 25 now, not a teenager, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could fight his libido. He'd used up all the fortitude he had to resist her when she was 18. And if he dug deep enough under the surface, he knew he still ached for the closeness they'd once shared.
In their professional exchanges, he thought her hardheaded and stern, but he also found her levelheaded and determined. And sharp as a knife. If their friendship had still been intact, he would have hired Charlie in a heartbeat. As a competitor though, he couldn't allow her to get too far ahead. When she'd swiped the Blackout account, it had stung something fierce.
"And now we're neighbors." Moving in, he'd assumed Willoughby Estates would be a haven from the rest of his world. Instead, he would wake everyday and spy his enemy's lair just across the street. Things were about to get very interesting.