Look at him
Look at me
That boy is bad
And honestly
He's a wolf in disguise
But I can't stop staring in those evil eyes

Monster, Lady Gaga

"What do you mean, you're going to be working with Dean Ambrose? Define working with, Paul." the 25 year old sat nibbling on the end of a pen, her long blonde hair in a partially falling down updo as she looked intently at Paul Heyman, manager for CM Punk, The Shield and Brock Lesnar.

"Well, as you well know, Veronica.. Mr. Ambrose is nothing if not a handful.. And since you have previous experience as a personal assistant.. We'd like you to come on board, be the personal assistant for me.. Please? I've got my hands quite full, managing Lesnar, The Shield and CM Punk.."

Veronica thought it over. What he was asking, she wasn't sure if she could do it.. Because not many realized this.. She actually knew Dean Ambrose.. They'd went to high school together, and she'd had a bit of a crush on the older male.

But, she'd been a lot different then, quiet, innocent and shy..

Hardly the woman who sat in front of Paul Heyman currently. Then again, not everyone lived through the things she'd managed to pull herself through in life. The things she'd been through, they were bound to have some sort of effect on one's psyche.

It'd all served to make her tougher, emotionally distant, and a very work driven 25 year old. Not to mention she'd learnt the hard way that love was a silly notion and that when push came to shove, almost 90 percent of the time, you were better off not pursuing it.

She thought about it a moment, her tongue jutting out, sliding slowly over her full lips as she continued to bite the end of the pen in thought, and in anxiety. "Why me, Paul?" she asked finally, after a few moments thought, just curious as to why she was being hired as a personal assistant for the WWE when for one thing, she hadn't even applied for the job in the first place, and another, she was quite sure that Dean Ambrose / Jonathan Good didn't even know her or was aware of her existence.

All she'd known, was that she'd come home from a few weeks in California, where she was taking a small vacation and found a voicemail on her phone from a man named Paul Heyman, who was asking if she'd be interested in a job as a personal assistant to a group known in professional wrestling as The Shield.

That'd been a little over 4 weeks ago, since then they'd talked back and forth upon occasion mostly negotiating.

She'd been surprised to discover that when she looked into the group of men, there were three, and one of them was her biggest weakness back in high school, but he went by the name Dean Ambrose now, not his real name, at least not on screen.

This, of course, got her curious as to why her name was chosen.

She'd never asked, but now, as she sat here, and the fact that she'd never bothered asking occurred to her, she realized that she really, really did want to know.

"You were, hmm, how should I say this.. Recommended."

"You said that earlier.. Who recommended me, Mr. Heyman."

Paul simply shrugged, smiled the annoyingly smug know it all smile that she found nerve grating and then asked again, "Will you take the job? Please?"

"Okay, fine." Veronica answered as she studied the man intently. In some ways, he seemed almost afraid of her saying no.. She had to wonder why..

And it still all came back around to who wanted her so badly that they'd obviously pressure the man into approaching her about the job.

But of course, Mr. Heyman wasn't talking.

Paul Heyman studied the girl, wondering why it'd been so important to Ambrose that this one be the assistant, not the usual type that most of the boys in the back went for, if they had to have a personal assistant.

But every time he'd asked Ambrose, he'd nearly gotten himself killed. And with Dean being the handful that he was, they really did need all the help that they could get.. still, however, he couldn't stop himself for feeling just a little bit bad at hiding just why exactly the Shield even needed a personal assistant, which in looser terms meant a babysitter for the wild man known as Dean Ambrose.

Because if left to his own devices, Ambrose could wreak more havoc than Heyman could fix, and McMahon was depending on the Shield, the new talent he was hiring to save the company's ratings.

So this task, finding her, and then approaching her about the job, had fallen to him. And Dean had been quite persistant, and insistent that it had to be her. Noone else.

He'd actually tried hiring other prettier girls, but Dean ran them off as quickly as they came, either by making sexual advances he knew they'd run from, or just being an outright asshole.

So that left him wondering, what was it about her that was so special? She certainly wasn't model pretty, and she wasn't very sociable, and she seemed to be a bit of a tight ass from what he knew of her, not to mention distant, cold..

Paul sighed to himself, just thankful that he could go back to the three men tonight and tell Dean that not only did he find this Veronica girl, he got her to agree to become the Shield's personal assistant.

This would help out a lot, or at least he had to hope so, because he was at his wits end as to what to do with Ambrose, as of late.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Veronica pressed as she sat, studying the man, his shifty eyes carefully.

"Not at all, Ms. Bancroft." Paul said as he held out her plane tickets, and a phone, her directions. "The phone has my personal line programmed in already, should you have any problems with anything. Thanks again, for doing this."

She took the phone, warily, of course, and nodded dutifully, shoving the phone into her purse as she stood, slunk out of the office, her stilettos making a steady click clack against the stone mezzanine tiled floor of the building.

Outside, she lit a cigarette and studied the flight plans, her heart racing at a steady pace. She'd see him, face to face tonight. She felt just like she did in high school, unsure, afraid, all over again.

"Oh come off it. You're good at what you do, it was probably someone else, word of mouth that got you this job. Nothing more, Veronica." she reminded herself bitterly, as she crushed out the cigarette with the platform of her stiletto and slid into the driver seat of her car, driving back home to pack.

Dean stood at the side of the building, watching the full lipped blonde as she stood smoking. A slow smirk filled his face and as soon as he received the text from Mr. Heyman, he pumped his fist into the air in victory.

"This is gonna be interesting." he mumbled to himself as he turned and walked back towards the gym he'd been training in, excited..

Tonight, he'd see her again.

He never had been able to explain his fascination with her in high school, but tonight, he'd have her right where he wanted her..

He had to wonder if she were really as passionate as the words in the book he'd found that belonged to her back in high school were.

"So, Heyman came through for us." he said solemnly, as he studied the other two men in the gym, Roman and Seth.

"You mean, Heyman came through for you, Ambrose. We're not the one who needs a fucking babysitter, remember?"

"I don't either. But if McMahon insists we have a personal assistant, then god damn it, I'm picking the person." Dean said grimly, as he looked at Seth and then at Roman, and paused, saying moments later, "You both know the fucking rules."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.. Look Ambrose, is there some reason you made Heyman go off looking for this girl?"

Dean merely smirked, and shrugged, turning his attention back to the weight bag in front of him as he thought about why he'd decided to find her..

That was for him to know, and her to find out later, when he decided to reveal himself. He highly doubted she even remembered him from high school. Hell, if not for what he'd found that belonged to her, he'd never have even known she existed.

But she felt so strongly about him, even after admitting in her own writing that she knew exactly what kind of guy he was, now that.. It made him curious, made him borderline obsessed, and it made him want to put her to the ultimate test.

If she could withstand everything he could put her through, maybe… His thoughts, as jumbled and broken as always trailed off at this point, and he growled at himself, got back to his workout.

Only a few more hours now.