2.
Caveat emptor: let the buyer beware.
This is one of those days, Caroline thinks, one of those days when nothing goes as planned. The wedding planner she hired is as useless as a chocolate teapot. And as if the wedding wasn't enough, she has Katherine's divorce and Carol Lockwood's charity party on her plate. It's enough to feed three Carolines, yet she has to deal with all of this on her own.
Her inner control freak is raging as she trots on her incredibly high heels to the office across the street where Klaus "Pest" Mikaelson currently works. Their first meeting is supposed to happen without the interested parties, and their secretaries arranged a meeting in his office. It is Caroline's favourite stratagem, going into the enemy camp to reconnoiter the ground. It's never just the lawyer's client, it's the lawyer himself you have to fight.
We all know that all's fair in love and war. Divorce is both.
With her phone in one hand and a file with Katherine's conditions in the other, staring straight ahead, she marches into the office building so energetically people's heads turn in her direction with awe. She's so focused on her task that she doesn't notice Damon's friend standing by the reception desk. He smirks as she walks past him, yelling at her pink iPhone.
"I couldn't care less if they got a better offer, they've already signed the memorandum!" Her shoulders heave with irritation. "No, I am not changing anything. I've been planning my wedding since I was eight! Tell them I will sue their sorry asses if I have to!" She angrily taps the red button and hangs up.
Klaus takes a moment to appreciate the blonde's good looks as she stands in the lounge waiting for an elevator to come down. A pair of black impressively high heels (how the hell women can walk in them? Is this some kind of magic? Do they make a deal with the devil?), a formal simple purple knee-length dress, and blonde curls cascading past her shoulders. He can't say he isn't pleased with an opponent who isn't a man suffering from a middle-age crisis for a change. In his field, not exactly the divorce-and-drama one, he's stuck in a rut with old stagers or young ambitious rookies. A pretty little lawyer-wannabe will be a nice break from the world where testosterone runs high. Easy peasy, he grins and walks up to her.
"Not a very good morning, I see." Caroline hears a British accent coming from behind her back, but keeps her curiosity at bay and doesn't move. She just waits for him to get closer and stand next to her, and then she spares him a glance.
"Nothing I couldn't handle." She sends him a tight smile while quickly examining his features. Two days ago in the restaurant she couldn't see his face from close-up. She didn't expect him to be British, Katherine didn't say a word about it, but this would explain the feeling of superiority that he wears like a second suit. All it takes is just one look to see he's an arrogant bastard... even if he's got cute dimples when he smiles.
"Klaus Mikaelson." He introduces himself and waits for her to extend a hand, which she does. Etiquette.
"Caroline Forbes."
"Nice to meet you, Miss Forbes."
"Oh, I doubt it." She mockingly bats her long eyelashes and shakes her head, silently wondering how he knows about the 'Miss' part, but she comes to a conclusion that Damon must have filled him in. Or it's the lack of a wedding ring on her finger. Damn, she's over analyzing, isn't she? Hush!
Before Klaus can respond, the door opens and they step into the elevator. Remembering that his office is on the twelfth floor she reaches to push the button, and so, out of habit, does Klaus. Their fingers meet on the button, and Caroline jerks her hand back like she got electrocuted. Klaus smirks under his nose.
"Objection overruled."
Caroline rolls her eyes. Lame courtroom jokes so soon? Seriously?
:–:
A few silent and awkward minutes in the confined space later, after Caroline was doing her best not to look at him while his dimples were smiling at her all the time, they say hello to Klaus' secretary, Rose, and finally get in to his office. Again, it doesn't look like she expected. It doesn't have a glass wall like any other office in the building, but a normal one and the solid door with a silver plate on it. Seems like he's not into this whole modern design mojo. When he opens the door for her ("Ladies first.") Caroline's eyes get big like saucers: he's pretty classy for an arrogant bastard. Antique furniture and works of art on the walls, a leather couch and a first class, large Resolute desk next to the window that's overlooking the city. The image of her own office–which is everything Klaus' office is not–pops up in her mind: minimalistic style, a lot of glass and light materials, bright colors. His room, on the other hand, can be described as wood and gold. Just one glance and Caroline knows they are worlds apart. Everything about her screams a modern American girl while he's a British to the bone gentleman. (The 'gentleman' part is of course arguable, but still, it's what appearances say.)
"Coffee? It's still early in the morning. I don't know about you, but I'm not exactly a morning person." He offers with a charming smile playing on his stubble-covered face, but Caroline sits down on a guest chair in front of his desk and crosses her legs.
"Let's get down to business, shall we?"
For a split second Klaus' eyes stop on her legs, too short to linger but long enough to note how shapely they are, and then he nods, "As you wish." Undoing the only button of his navy jacket, he sits down across the table. The light blue shirt does suit his grayish blue eyes, she thinks, but quickly chases the thought away. She's on a mission here, not to ogle a Brit.
To her surprise he doesn't have any folder with documents, he just sits there looking at her expectantly. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, it throws her off balance a little.
Caroline runs the tip of her tongue along her lower lip, and Klaus can't help but follow its movement. "First of all, I think we both know that so called 'no-fault' divorce is off limits, and so are irreconcilable differences." She recites, then puts her hands on her knees, straightens up like a best student in class, and waits for Klaus' reaction.
He nods, "Absolutely."
"So, my clients' grounds for divorce are as follows: habitual drunkenness, mental cruelty, and of course adultery."
"I agree."
She frowns at him confused, but continues, "And there's the problem of claims to property since they didn't sign any prenuptial agreement."
"The winner takes it all, I assume?" Klaus quips.
"Correct."
He puts his hands together in front of his face, his fingertips lightly touching his rosy lips. He looks like a praying saint when he says, "Seems fair."
Fair? Caroline gives him a quizzical look. Is this man Klaus Mikaelson she heard about, or is this some kind of a joke? Is he that ruthless attorney, a real bulldozer among the lawyers? Or is he just a wolf in sheep's clothing?
"And the losing party is paying punitive damages."
"Of course."
"And in case of proven defamation, additional twenty thousand dollars of a fine. For charity."
"Only twenty? I'd demand fifty."
Klaus wears a mask of self-control that Tibetan monks could only dream of. He stares at her, waiting for the last straw that is going to break the camel's back. She's almost there, he can see it. Oh how he loves to play this game. Of course he had an advantage from the start–the blonde has been irritated since early morning. An easy target and less of a challenge, but well, you can't have everything.
Caroline's eyes bore into his face searching for some clues. Is this his modus operandi? He's so calm, like a marble statue, still and silent. And so...disturbingly compliant. The picture Katherine painted was a different one.
She spies with her little eye something beginning with L. Like a LIE. That's it, she thinks, and she decides she'll go all Basic Instinct on him if she has to. Caroline uncrosses her legs, and then crosses them again. Klaus' eyebrow twitches–almost imperceptibly, but her observant eye notices every detail of his angelic features.
Yes, his brazenly flippant way of dealing with her was nothing but a declaration of war.
"Well then," she says smoothing her dress, "this is enough for today, I guess." And she gets up from the chair and gracefully turns to leave. Klaus has to admit, she has moves like a ballet dancer. Elegant, light, and effortless.
"Excuse me? We haven't even gotten into details yet." He raises his eyebrows at her. They both know he's faking disappointment–but not too much, Klaus has a feeling the blonde is smarter than she looks.
"When you have enough pluck to show your true face, maybe I'll spare you a moment of my precious time, Mr. Mikaelson." She walks up to the door. Klaus stands up and holds onto the lapels of his designer suit.
"What did you expect, Miss Forbes?" He asks, a corner of his mouth mockingly raised.
Caroline boldly lifts her chin up. "I expected a ruthless and tenacious professional."
"Looks like my reputation precedes me." His smirk turns into a wide, smug grin.
"But instead I met a disrespectful megalomaniac who thinks he's hilarious."
"Oh but I do. It was a test. You've passed." He announces like she was an apprentice, not an attorney. She would love to punch him right in that button-like nose and wipe that dimpled smile of his...
But no, she can't let him put a damper on her day...Right?
"Well thank you, sensei." Caroline mocks him as she bows keeping her hands straight to her sides. "But I'm too smart to let you provoke me."
"I'll take it as a challenge, love."
Ugh! She just knew she should have switched from yoga to kung-fu long time ago! Her anger management skills aren't as good as they used to be. She angrily narrows her eyes at him, but before she can chew him out and spit back on the dark brown carpet in his office, a scream shrills suddenly in the office hallway, "I WILL KILL YOU!" Klaus and Caroline exchange a shocked look and dash out of the room.
What meets their eyes beats anything they could've imagined or expected. It is actually Katherine straddling Damon that's lying on the floor, his face contorted with rage. Katherine's hands are firmly clutching at her husband's throat choking him. Caroline gasps as she sees Damon reach out and grab Katherine's shining dark locks, then he pulls at them forcefully. His wife jerks backwards and lets out a painful shriek.
"You bastard!" She scrambles off the floor arching her back like a feral cat and prepares to make a predatory lunge for Damon. Just when she's about to leap forward, a pair of delicate hands yanks her back.
"Are you crazy?!" Caroline yells at her friend that keeps trying to free herself and attack Damon again. Klaus keeps Damon pinned to the ground, struggling to hold him down.
"Let me go!" Katherine growls. "I'll just kill him and then we can have lunch."
"I hope you choke on your diet salad, you psychotic who–"
"Whoa!" Klaus shakes his friend. "Easy, mate!" Damon is fuming, panting, glowering at his wife.
The lawyers drag their clients away from each other. Caroline can already see Damon's argument in court saying his wife tried to kill him. The last thing Katherine, an actress playing a serial killer, wants is being charged with attempted murder.
Nobody in the whole world can despise you so fiercely like your spouse. Pure, unadulterated, boiling hate. Like ancient Greeks once said, this is marriage.
: – :
"I had to drag her away! Can you imagine it?" Caroline rants and raves in the bathroom of her apartment while struggling to zip up her long light-green strapless dress. The charity parties Carol Lockwood throws are so elitist. As much as Caroline loves to dress up and shine, her future mother-in-law is too stuck-up to make it fun.
"Which tie should I pick?" Tyler stands in front of a tall looking glass and puts a black one against the dark green shirt he's wearing. Tilting his head to the side he frowns, "Hmmm."
"Her acting on impulse will ruin the whole thing!" Caroline brandishes her mascara brush at the bathroom mirror.
"You're right, the black one."
"I just can't with her sometimes!"
"And cufflinks."
"I don't even want to think how that pest is going to use it against us."
"I'm ready, Care! Come on, we can't be late." Tyler grabs her coat and waits for his fiancée, impatiently tapping his foot.
I know, that witch will drown us in the nearest fountain if we do, Caroline rolls her eyes and applies raspberry-pink lip gloss.
Tyler looks around the apartment. Warm relaxing colors, floral patterns here and there, bright interior, a lot of plants. What does she call that interior design? Feng-something. He doesn't remember, but apparently it's all the rage now.
As soon as his eyes fall on the gorgeous blonde walking towards him he doesn't give a damn about Chinese phony baloney anymore. The dress is hugging her curves in all the right places, her hips are swaying, her blonde locks tied in a low bun. She looks absolutely breathtaking.
"Wow." A grin spreads on his face. "Look at you, future Mrs. Lockwood." He holds the coat for her and watches Caroline's arms gracefully slip into its sleeves. "You will dazzle the guests tonight."
"Hopefully, with my speech. Or else the current Mrs. Lockwood will chain me to an iron chair and torture me." Caroline rolls her eyes. She wants to be considered something more than just eye candy, shallow like a kiddie pool. She didn't get into Law School because she was pretty–she had spent all her adult life proving to others that she was in fact shrewd and quite brainy. And what's the most important thing: that she was as tough as any man in the world of legal articles, the fine print, and many catches.
Tyler gives her a surprised look, like she's just told him the aliens kidnapped her years ago. Then he bursts out laughing, and rubs her shoulders up and down. "You have a peculiar sense of humor, Care."
"So I was told."
"But maybe you shouldn't come up with this kind of...absurd jokes around our guests. They won't get it, you know." He looks her in the eyes seeking understanding on her part. Caroline opens her mouth to say something, but then looks away, and when her eyes meet Tyler's again, there's just a wry smile on her face.
"Sure." They won't be the first, she silently adds.
:–:
Of course Carol Lockwood has to swank, flaunting her Dom Perignon White Gold Jeroboam in a elegant glass flute, parading around the Lockwood summer mansion located outside the city. If she's hosting a party, she's doing it for real, in her own house with a legion of waiters and waitresses. Like she says, charity is the most expensive thing you do for free.
This is exactly what Caroline thinks when Tyler opens the door for her. For a minute she gets blinded by a ceiling sparkling with tens of crystal chandeliers. There's a sea of suits, designer dresses, teased hair, Loubotins, and trinkets. They just love to help the poor while rubbing shoulders with honchos. Janus-faced hypocrites, and Carol Lockwood being the big enchilada, pulling the strings.
"And here they a-are!" Carol sings as she steers her way through the crowd. It couldn't be more obvious that she had one drink too many. The Mayor hugs both of them a bit too tight. "My handsome son and my beautiful future daughter-in-law!"
"You should lay off the alcohol, Mom." Tyler whispers through gritted teeth so that nobody would notice.
"Your father is here. I can either soothe my nerves with champagne, or with a knife in his back."
Caroline winces at the worrisome piece of news. Richard Lockwood hates her guts, and when she started dating Tyler, the former mayor and a successful businessman could hardly contain his anger. He's never said anything to Tyler though, he's too smart to ruin the relationship with his son. He aims his hate like a Kalashnikov straight at the blonde enemy instead.
"Mom–"
"Since Caroline is here, we can start the auction! And then let our guests party all night long." Carol nods to herself in recognition of her social skills. She pushes Caroline towards a platform and watches as the girl gets the hold of a microphone. It gives out a piercing, high-pitched sound that makes everyone clench their teeth, but then Caroline's soft voice drifts around the vast room and murmurs stop.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen." She puts on her charming Smile Number Five. Her eyes are surveying the crowd like experts survey the market. There is less ladies and even less gentlemen here than anyone would suspect. But you know what they say, the show must go on.
"While most of you are having fun, chatting about holidays spent in France, Japan, or Hawaii, pretending to like each other, we pretend that all we want is to cater to your whims. But don't let that mislead you. All we want, all we can think of, is your money. We care about your boring stories as long as you leave us a nice fat check. The orphans that are waiting for your help have never been anywhere further than to the nearest park. They will not go sunbathing on one of the sandy exotic beaches. They will not wear Oscar de la Renta or Gucci. They will not brag about their vintage cadillac." She takes a breath, and sees the audience is shocked. Caroline will never admit that she changed her speech right when she got on that platform.
"We are here today to join our forces for a good cause. For kids that need your money more than any fashion empire or any car producer. Let's forget about extravagances and whims tonight, and give instead of spend. Thank you."
Caroline swallows hard, ouch. The guests are silent for a moment, not sure whether they got insulted or complimented. But have those big-heads ever known the difference?
Then there's a sound of hands clapping coming from the very end of the room. The man stands too far for her to discern his features, but he's wearing a very distinctive red tie, so she makes a quick resolution to find him later. And to her suprprise–and immense relief–the others follow the lead. The simple hand clapping turns into a loud, enthusiastic ovation. Some people even raise their hands applauding Caroline's speech. The blonde lets out a long breath. It seems like she convinced the richies to have a taste of philanthropy. The auction should go smoothly now.
:–:
Carol Lockwood just can't stop marveling at how wonderfully generous the guests are tonight. The auction is more than a success, it's an event worthy of the first page of the Chicago Tribune. An enormous donation for the orphanage, and favorable publicity for the Mayor. Now it's time to party. Let the champagne flow like Mississippi.
Caroline is reaping laurels as people try to win her with glib compliments. Fantastic speech, they say. Very moving. Very persuasive. You've got balls, girl.
Tyler is very proud of her too. She sees him talking to Mary Porter, a highly regarded journalist, and even though she doesn't hear what he's saying, she can read his lips. My mother and Caroline are the words that make the corners of his mouth raise.
She just smiles and escapes the crowd to finally admire the painting she bought. She saw it before, when she and Carol were looking through the catalogue of things put up for the auction. A painting of a lone wolf standing on the edge of a cliff, howling to a full moon. It's hypnotizing her, drawing her into the world of the night and dark, impenetrable forests. And yet it's somehow calming her at the same time. Caroline can't remember the last time she was so deeply affected. The wolf is so captivating, beautiful and dangerous. She can feel shivers running down her spine.
Someone clears their throat behind her making Caroline jump around, suddenly shaken out of her dreamlike state. She's about to put on her Smile Number Five but quickly abandons the idea when she sees who is slowly approaching her...
The one and only Klaus Mikaelson.
What nerve! Caroline frowns, any sign of kindness gone from her now tense face. She involuntarily starts chewing on the inside of her lower lip.
"You were doggedly fighting for this painting, love. I'm impressed."
"Well." She crosses her arms. "I always get what I want."
"I don't doubt it." He smiles at her like what she's just said wasn't an implicit threat but rather an invitation to play. Caroline's teeth draw blood from the lip, but she doesn't even flinch.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm Richard's guest. Of course I've donated, too."
She stares at Klaus the Pest, silently hating on him. What...Who does he mean by Richard? Surely not Tyler's father, it can't be–
"Mr. Lockwood asked me to make a contribution to the auction. He cares about his good name as much as his ex-wife does."
Damn you, Klaus Mikaelson! And damn you, Richard Lockwood!
Caroline tries to keep it cool. No matter how much she's raging inside, she will never give him the satisfaction of seeing her out of control. "A contribution? Really? What was it?" She tilts her chin at him posing a tacit challenge.
"Just a small piece of art, nothing too fancy."
"So now you're a connoisseur of art?"
"Indeed I am. I even happen to know the man that painted your wolf."
"Do you?" She gives him a tight-lipped smile, mentally lecturing herself to keep her nerves under control. "And who is he?"
"Just a disrespectful megalomaniac who thinks he's hilarious." Klaus smirks at her, and after a quick nod of his head he walks away.
Caroline is left puzzled and speechless, staring at his form that's wandering off and disappearing in the crowd. The realization hits her and almost knocks her out. She was too surprised by his appearance to focus on the details, but now it dawns on her.
Her jaw drops. He was wearing a red tie. THE red tie.
"I need a drink."
~TBC~
