Disclaimer: If I owned it, would I be writing fanfiction?
Amy felt like the most frustrated being on the face of the Earth as she knocked on the Kabra's front door.
"Hello, Amy," Ian greeted her, not at all surprised to find her there when he opened the front door of his apartment. Ian was well dressed as always, which was slightly suspicious because he was supposed to be lounging around the house. It was almost as though he had predicted her arrival down to the nth second. "I see Daniel has told you about—"
She cut him off. "My slave labor contract?" She frowned. "Yes, he did." She glared daggers at him. "Would you mind telling me how someone like you, who is regarded to be smart managed to think of a bet that involves slave labor when slavery has been abolished for I don't know how many years?" Her voice rose into a steady crescendo as she tried to control her anger. She felt mad, so mad she wanted to rip that constant mask of 'I'm as cool as a cucumber' attitude right off his face. Here he was, forcing her into servitude and he was so unbothered by it. It annoyed her to no end. In fact, it pissed her off like crazy.
'Cute,' he thought as he saw her face scrunch up with contempt. Of course, he didn't voice that thought. Ian knew better than to let his guard down. He had to be careful. For all he knew, his lovable sister was waiting around the corner with a tape recorder in hand to obtain something for blackmail.
"I forgot," he said with a shrug.
He watched in amusement as her face changed into an exact copy of an Angry Bird.
"What do you mean you forgot? How do you conveniently forget that when slavery was abolished in 1865 in the Thirteenth Amendment of The United States Constitution?" she half-shrieked. Ian smiled. How he loved pushing her bookworm buttons so.
He smirked at her. "Now, now love. You don't need to frown so." He cupped a hand under her chin which she promptly smacked away. "You'll ruin your pretty face."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I'd rather be born as a mutilated floral yellow and pink grasshopper if it meant that I'd never have to see you again," she said scathingly.
"Don't you think that's a bit too harsh?"
"It was meant to be," was her curt reply. "Where's Natalie?" she demanded as she pushed past him to enter his penthouse. It wasn't as though he'd be inviting her in anytime soon. She had a feeling that basic manners were something his parents had omitted in his education syllabus.
"I think you're mistaken, love." He smiled what Amy supposed he thought was his most winning grin which she thought was as charming as the sensation of having a cow pat thrown at her face. "You're here to cater to me; not my dear sister."
"Oh, shut it," she replied exasperatedly.
"Yes, dear brother," came Natalie's voice from across the room as she dragged a myriad of suitcases to the front door. "Do shut it."
"Might I ask where you're off to, darling Natalie?" His voice depicted his annoyance. He didn't like being told what to do. He was the one that gave orders, not the other way around. He certainly wasn't going to bend over backwards to please every single one of his sisters' whims and fancies. Of course, this had led to a lot of whinging on Natalie's part but he had gotten used to her constant whining a long time ago.
"Seeing as that Amelia is going to be here for the next two weeks, I have taken the liberty of checking myself into the finest hotel in town." She made a face. "I for one," she said, "am not going to stick around to see you turn into a lovesick puppy around her because I'm quite sure that I'll end up adorning my beautiful Jimmy Choo heels with vomit."
"So you're leaving?" Amy said blankly.
Natalie rolled her eyes. "Yes, that was what I just said. Is there a problem?"
Amy never predicted that she would ever have this thought in a million years but she needed Natalie or not she would, without a doubt, be on the verge of insanity by the first ten minutes. "You can't leave me here with him!" She totally ignored his mutterings of 'not being that bad'.
"Actually," Natalie said as she put on her Chanel sunglasses. "I can. For the love of Prada, you can't exactly expect me to stay here as Ian turns into a flirtatious fool/ addlepated twit. You don't expect to tell you to book me a ticket to that show, do you?" she said dryly. Amy tried to think of a good rebuttal, but found that there was none. Natalie closed the door after her. "Toodles!"
Amy just stood there. "Great. There goes my only hope for salvation, waltzing right out the door."
Ian cleared his throat. "You could have refused to come, you know?"
She whirled around on him. "Don't give me that when you know perfectly well that you have abducted my dingbat of a brother's expensive ninja weapons arsenal! I did not, I repeat, did not have a choice!" she hissed vehemently at him.
Ian shrugged. "Oh yes. That had completely slipped my mind."
She muttered something along the lines of "Old forgetful goat." She glared at him. "So what is it that you'll have me do first? Wear a French maid outfit?" she sneered.
"The thought had crossed my mind…." Ian trailed off. He could see the alarm in her eyes that she was trying to mask. "But I decided against it." Relief washed over her even though part of her curiosity had been piqued.
"Why?"
"No reason." He wasn't about to tell her that he had feared perverts with strange fetishes would come after her.
"Well, thank you," she said stiffly. "Albeit there is no way that I would wear it considering that there are many lechers and perverts out there who have fetishes for maid outfits, I appreciate the very small, sudden appearance of your understanding heart." She shot him a dirty look. "Case in point, the person standing in front of me."
"I am not a pervert." He insisted adamantly. "Besides, love, I have to tell you that I do own one of those heart things."
"You sure could have fooled me. As far as matters of your heart go, I didn't even know you had one in the first place." She glared at him mutinously. "So what would you have me do for a whole fortnight?"
He smirked at her. She could have sworn that the smirking was the first thing the Kabras had taught Ian. Ian had it down to an art. "I want you to address me as Lord."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Lord what? Lord of the Flies?"
That wiped the smirk right off his handsome face. "Well, aren't you hilarious today, love? No, just 'Lord' is fine."
"I refuse," she said defiantly.
He came nearer and nearer to her, until there was barely ten centimeters between them. "You seem to have forgotten, love, that you work for me now." He pierced her stare with his gaze. Amy shrunk back a tiny bit. "At least you are for the next two weeks anyway."
"Fine," she said coolly. She made a memo to torture Dan when she gets out of this hellhole. "My Lord…" she said grudgingly before adding, "Jerk."
"What was that?"
"Nothing," she said, smiling sweetly at him. Two could play at that game. She certainly wasn't going to just stand there and be a pushover. Her jade eyes sparkled with mirth. She enjoyed torturing him as much as he did her. "My Lord Arsehole."
Ian swore mentally. If she hadn't looked at him with her bewitching jade eyes as she said that, he would have done…..well, he didn't know what he would have done exactly. But! He would have done…something.
He cursed at the effect that she had on him. Everything about her made him confused, intrigued. He had no clue as to why he felt like a bumbling fool when it came to her. Her whole entity was mesmerizing to him. Her reddish-brown hair, her jewel-tone eyes, her slender frame, that intelligent twinkle in her eyes…..
'Oh, jolly good. Now I'm turning into a fanboy,' he thought to himself. Her gaze was still trained on him. 'I wonder what she's thinking about….'
In her head, Amy let out a battle cry. 'What a jerk. What person in their right mind would entrap a girl in slave labor? I better be careful around him. What a psychopath. I mean, who cares if he's rich, smart and handsom—Oh, crapoodles!' she swore mentally. She cursed every part of him from his amber eyes to his impeccable features and razor-sharp bone structure. She even cursed him for being half- a- head taller than her because craning her neck to look at him was so painful. 'Damn him for becoming better looking over the years. My neurons can't even send nerve impulses properly without being befuddled around him.'
As the adage goes, great minds think alike.
And so do star-crossed lovers.
The first part of the Art of Seduction: The Law of Attraction.
A/N: Please feel free to leave a review. [Hint. Hint. (:] If you spot any errors at all, please tell me. Constructive criticsm is very much appreciated.