Chapter Three – Into Motion

The moment President Rufus stepped out of the elevator that Monday morning, there was definitely something different. Tifa couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew that the President wasn't just being his usual moody, hung-over self. He stood there, letting the steel elevator doors slide close behind him. She stopped typing for a moment to greet him a good morning but the way he was looking at her made her feel uneasy. Made her wonder if she had gotten her clothes dirty, or if they didn't appear to be something his secretary would wear. He was a handsome man, she acknowledged, as she had on the first day he'd hired her. Tall, platinum blonde perfectly combed and slick, pale aquamarine eyes, his cheekbones high and chiseled, his nose a perfect, sharp feature. As always, his clothes were immaculate.

"I need to speak with you. Come to my office."

She nodded, and moved to get out of her work station. Suddenly, she felt extremely conscious of her plain gray wrap-around dress she'd decided to don today.

To her surprise, Rufus had beaten her to the door. "After you," he said quietly. Tifa found herself flushing.

Rufus motioned for her to sit down before he sat down on his chair. Tifa sat down as gracefully as she could. When she raised her eyes to look at her boss, she found him looking at her, sizing her up in a way she'd accustomed to. Tifa tried not to fidget. He'd never really looked at her before, had he? She was simply someone to bring papers, answer the telephone. Now he was watching her, eyes narrowed, seeming as if he was deciding whether she passed or failed. Passed or failed what?

Funny how men around her didn't quite see her.

His hands were laced in front of him now.

"President," Tifa breathed, "is there anything I can do for you?"

His eyes rose to meet hers. "As a matter of fact, yes, there is something."

"All right," she said, waiting for further instructions.

"Your passport is currently working, isn't it?" he asked, and Tifa blinked, nonplussed. She nodded. "Good." He paused and Tifa had the feeling he was considering what to say. An odd thought, since Rufus Shinra was the kind of man who always knew what to say. "As you might be aware, the board is holding a party in honor of the company's anniversary," he finally explained tersely, "and I would like you to accompany me." It was not a friendly invitation, in fact, it didn't sound at all like one. It was more like an order. A command.

In the short time she'd worked for Rufus, she had never accompanied him anywhere, not even to one of his frequent out of town meetings. The man preferred to do things on his own, and besides, he had the Turks at his disposal. "Where are we going?"

"We leave for Costa del Sol tomorrow evening and return on Friday." He paused, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed in concentration. "This is an important event… do you understand?"

Costa del Sol… if her geography wasn't too far off, that was in the West, and at least eight hours by plane. But who plans parties that last for four days? Some party! Tifa took in a deep breath. It wasn't really important to her boss that the company was celebrating its anniversary. What was important for him was making the best impression he could to the other executives and the guests. There was a lot of pressure and doubt swirling and weighing him down, she knew. She swallowed, heard the audible gulp, and forced herself to meet Rufus's harsh gaze.

"Is there anything I can do to arrange the trip?"

"No. Everything's been arranged. Just send your passport and relevant information to Tseng." Rufus replied.

Tifa nodded, much more comfortable with the terse manner.

She could hardly pump Rufus for information, or ask him what kind of clothes she should bring. Or why he had chosen her, from his team of secretaries. For the second time, she swallowed down her curiosity and smiled stiffly. "Will this be all, President?"

His gaze swept over her once more and a strange, sardonic smiled curved his mouth. Tifa had a feeling that she had somehow done something that Rufus had expected… and it was a disappointment. "That's it," he said, the promptly turning to his work, dismissing her both from his presence and mind. Tifa slipped out of the office silently.

Back at her desk, Tifa sank into her chair with weak knees.

She was going to Costa del Sol. She pictured the postcard image – white sandy beaches, tropical forests, tropical drinks. People, laughter, sultry breezes. For a moment she allowed a thrill to trickle through her senses like quicksilver. Suddenly she liked her job very much. If this was how it was going to be – getting to jet-set to luxurious vacation spots she couldn't possibly afford to, since she'd read that going to Costa del Sol would cost you at least 300,00 gil a day – then putting up with President Rufus's cold aura was going to be worth it.

Who knew what could happen? Who she might meet?

In her mind's eye, she could already touch the dreamy tanned man with washboard abs, flashing a dazzling smile, whispering sweet nothings. He wasn't going to be blonde, that was for sure.

After sending Tseng a copy of her information, Tifa drummed her fingers absently on her desk. Then it struck her.

She was going to Costa del Sol… with Rufus Shinra.

Her fingers hung midair as she considered what a trip with her boss would be like. Together on a plane, in the villa, on the beach.

Would Rufus relax in a different environment? Or would he remain stoic and short tempered? She tried to imagine him for moment, smiling sincerely, not smiling politely. She tried to imagine him laughing, rather than scowling. She gave up a minute later. It was impossible. She'd never seen him that way. The only smiles she'd seen him give were aimed mostly at the people he met and she knew that those smiles were born out of cold-blooded business acumen.

Stop thinking about stuff like this, you're at work!

She had no place, no right, to imagine what Rufus would be like. It didn't matter. He was taking her with him to the party because he needed her to take notes and support him as a secretary should. And she had to do it well.

But… Costa del Sol. With Rufus.

What woman wouldn't feel thrilled? She wasn't immune to it.

And with her current soppy life, she had every reason to feel excited. Hadn't she just decided to dump the heavy weight that was Cloud and begin again? Well… this was certainly a perfect way to start that new chapter. A giggle escaped her.

Four days in Costa del Sol.

Anything seemed possible.

Even if she had to go with Rufus Shinra, at least she would be getting out there. Having a bit of an adventure.

Painting the town red.

It could be a start.

He had a wife.

Rufus wanted to laugh for how easy it was to lure her into his trap. But he knew that from this moment on, he had to tread carefully. It was delicate business, maintaining a deception. Still, he was confident that he could easily manipulate his secretary. Intimidation was the key to dealing with people. It always was.

Miss Lockhart was unfortunately one of the people in life whose only purpose was to be used.

From an early age, Rufus had learned that it was a dog-eat-dog world. And he always preferred to be the dog devouring the other.

However… despite the satisfaction he felt at obtaining his so-called wife, he also felt a restless surging, an uneasy energy pulsing through him. He had only just ticked one item off his list – there were still many things that weren't under his control.

Would his secretary be convincing as his wife?

He hadn't told her just what exactly was required of her; he'd do it on the plane where there was no exit. No escape.

His mouth curved into a knowing smile. He didn't think she would balk. But he'd offer her money. Nobody turned down cold, hard cash. Or he could use her family's business.

It was certainly odd that despite her good financial stature, being from a well-to-do family and being his secretary, she still appeared to need a little bit more. She always wore the same clothes to work, and she didn't bother very much with cosmetics. She could use a make-over or two, or at the very least, some good advice. Women her age concerned themselves mainly with their appearance, and yet here his secretary was.

Makeover…

The word, the thought, stilled him. He pictured her showing up tomorrow with a cheap suitcase full of plain, inexpensive little outfits. A suitcase of tailored, professional clothes… Bermuda shorts, linen blouses… Not a wife's.

Not his wife's.

Rufus shuddered.

It was something he had overlooked. But no matter, he could deal with that easily.

Rufus glanced at his wristwatch. It was already seven p.m. – she'd be home now.

"Tseng," Rufus said.

"Yes, President?"

"Cinderella's house. Now."

If the Turk found it odd, he did not comment, only made an illegal U-turn.

"Listen Cloud," she said loudly to the PHS, "I've had it. I don't know how far off you are with your soul searching, but I am so done. I've been fooling myself that you'd come around soon, but it's obvious that you are not."

It was raining outside again. Tifa stood in the middle of her kitchen, leaning heavily on the counter. Cloud had rung her up a few minutes ago, and she had wasted no time in finally giving him a piece of her mind. Tomato sauce bubbled in the pot. Water dripped from the faucet. She had a bottle of wine open.

"Why didn't you just tell me that you couldn't be in a relationship, why'd you keep me hoping?" she asked him.

He hadn't said anything since she'd started.

"Tifa…"

She chewed on her bottom lip, to let him speak. She was glaring at the floor.

"Tifa… I'm sorry."

"That's it?"

"I…"

"Tell me you love me and I will bash your brains out when I see you."

A momentary pause. It felt so heavy.

"I'm sorry I wasted your time."

"Good bye, Cloud."

"Hm, yeah. Bye…"

She ended the call and cried.

But she didn't cry because she was sad that it was over. No. She was crying because she was free. She was crying because it had been too easy. But at least, she cajoled herself, she had left with some dignity intact. But it made her wonder… was she really that easy to let go of? Splashing her face with cold tap water a minute later, she returned to cooking dinner. How she wished she had her friends to run to for comfort and enabling. Tifa turned up her iPod and chopped, swaying absentmindedly to the music.

She didn't hear the knocking on her front door until it became a fierce, methodical pounding, practically sending vibrations through the wood floor. Tifa took off her earbuds and headed to the door with her heart leaping to her throat.

Who knocked like that?

Police, drunks, and angry ex-boyfriends came to mind. She tip-toed to the entry hall and peered ever so carefully through the narrow window, and found out her answer.

Rufus Shinra knocked like that.

She took a deep breath, she ran a hand over her hair, which tumbled loosely over her shoulders, and opened the door.

"Mister Shinra?" Tifa eyed him uncertainly, for he looked as grim as ever. He was frowning, his hair was misted by the rain, eyes glinting with impatience, his usually pale cheeks were slashed with color. Behind Rufus, she saw his security detail. One of them, Reno, waved playfully at her. She was almost inclined to wave back, if it wasn't for the angry man standing right in front of her, standing inches away from her. He was frighteningly close that she could smell his cologne.

"I have to speak with you. May I come in?"

Like this morning, she nodded, suddenly conscious of her mussed hair, the leggings and the long sweater she'd changed into. She touched her cheek and realized she had a dab of tomato sauce smeared there. "Yes, of course."

The hall of her house was long, narrow and high. There was a vintage mirror that she'd bought in the flea market with her girlfriends a year back, and a coat hanger. Rufus closed the door behind him. Just standing there, he seemed to fill the gloomy space. He glanced around, and Tifa knew he was taking in the modest furnishings.

Just then she heard a sizzling sound from the kitchen and, with a murmured excuse, hurried to it.

The tomato was bubbling ominously on the stove and she lowered the gas flame before turning around.

She gave a little gasp of surprise; Rufus was standing there on the doorway, taking in the pathetic scene in one cursory sweep of his contemptuous gaze. His hands were buried deep in his pockets.

Tifa found herself flushing. She could just imagine what Rufus was thinking.

"I'm sorry I was making some dinner," she explained lamely. "May I… ask why you're here?" In my humble abode, o powerful one?

He was completely still, radiating energy, impatience. "I forgot to mention some salient details regarding our trip." Rufus paused, raking his fingers through his damp hair. "I'm travelling to Costa del Sol to court the executives of Shin-Ra that haven't completely grasped the idea of me being the new President, and to court potential business partners. So it is highly important that we project the right… appearance." He paused again, as if waiting for a reply, but Tifa was simply baffled.

I already guessed why you'd be bothering to go to the beach, she thought. "Yes, I see," she said after a moment. Although she didn't, to be honest.

Rufus let out an impatient breath. "Do you? Then perhaps you realize that I can't take a secretary that takes her clothes from the leftover racks at the mall."

Color surged fully to Tifa's face. It was infuriating that Rufus thought she didn't have the clothes for the trip. Even worse that he was probably right. But hello of course she had thought of dropping by the mall after work tomorrow to get a nice beach outfit! "Perhaps you could tell me what to bring then," she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

He shook his head. "I can assure you, sweetheart, that you don't have it."

Tifa lifted her chin. He'd never called her 'sweetheart' before, and she didn't like the casual way he used it. "If I'm not stylish enough for you," she said crossly, "there are other secretaries in the company who could oblige you." He arched a brow then nodded. "I'm sure that there are," he said, "but I want you." The way he spoke was flat, yet Tifa felt a frisson of awareness, excitement, from his words. I want you.

Because of your organizational skills, you moron! She told herself, mentally face palming. And obviously, he didn't want her to accompany him because of her appearance or style. Tifa was already very aware that she was below average at those points. Anyway, she reminded herself that the last thing she wanted was Rufus Shinra turning his attention to her. Working for him was difficult enough!

"Well then, I'll try my best to look smart. Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about, Mister Shinra?" Tifa finally said.

"You should call me Rufus," he replied abruptly, and she simply stared.

"Why?" she asked a moment later, and he gave her a cool look which spoke volumes about what he thought of her audacity in questioning him.

"Because I said so."

"Then fine." She swallowed any indignation she felt. It was pointless. Rufus Shinra was her boss, and he could do what he wanted. Even in her house. "Is that all?" she finally got out in a voice of strangled politeness.

The blonde simply arched his brow again. "No." After a moment he sighed, and without another word, he turned his heel and headed for the stairs.

Tifa's mouth promptly dropped. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Upstairs." He said. "Why, do stairs ever lead elsewhere?"

Okay, now he was just making fun of her. She followed him up the steep, narrow stairs, unable to believe that he was really so insensitive to invade her home, her privacy, in such a blatant and unapologetic way. Yet… she shouldn't be so surprised. This was how Rufus Shinra operated. She had just never been on the receiving end. She'd never been important enough to merit more than a single scornful glance (if, at all) and a few barked out instructions. Now… he had placed her in the middle of the stage, spotlight harshly focused on her home, her clothes… on her.

Why?

Why was this man being so fussy over a business trip?

Rufus strode down the hallway, poking in the bedrooms, which had been converted to a mini library and work out studio (when she couldn't afford gym membership), or were simply unused. The remaining guest room was reserved for Cloud, whenever he decided to come to her, and the sheets were probably shrouded with dust already.

"This place…" Rufus began. "…do you seriously call it a home?" He had made the remark with casual disdain as he closed the guest bedroom. "Why do you live here?"

"This is my home," Tifa snapped, her voice wavering as she futilely tried to block his entrance to her bedroom. "What are you doing here, Rufus? Besides being unbelievably nosy and rude." A tiny, tiny voice reminded her that she was speaking to her boss, but she was far too offended to give a damn. A bigger part of her was glad she had. She glared at him.

"Seeing if you have appropriate clothes." Rufus replied. "Now move." He elbowed past her none too gently and Tifa was forced to follow, grinding her teeth as he strode into her bedroom and looked around. Her bed was made, thankfully, but her pajamas were still on the floor, along with discarded other items like her bras. The bedside table was completely surrounded by paperback novels and stacked over with it. It suddenly felt revealing, although of what, Tifa couldn't quite say. She didn't want Rufus in here, looking over the intimate details of her life. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. It was incredibly uncomfortable.

Rufus was looking at her framed college photographs. He was quietly chuckling at her candid photo, taken by Yuffie. She had her hair curled then, but had ended up a glorious mess. She had worn her boyfriend's glasses and posed like one of those jean-ad models. "Ah college," Rufus said, barely stifling his chuckle now, as he strode over to her wardrobe. He flung the doors open and surveyed the unimpressive contents of the racks. Tifa felt a growing sense of embarrassment and annoyance as he thumbed through her rack of clothes, mostly sensible skirts and dresses, a handful different colored blouses to match her suit. Her other clothes were neatly folded at the very bottom and back of the wardrobe. "As I thought," Rufus swiveled slowly to face her, light beginning to gleam in his eyes, "nothing remotely suitable." Tifa visibly flinched.

"With all due respect, Rufus, I don't think your impression with the executives in the party will be affected if I look like crap." Tifa snapped. "I apologize if I do not dress like ma'am Scarlet."

He gave her a look. "You believe that crap? You listen to it?" He laughed softly.

"She comes to the office all the time," she countered, challenging him to deny it.

Rufus rolled his eyes. He took a step forward, his voice dangerously soft. "Is that what you're getting at? Oh, Tifa, I thought you were better than that."

"What I'm after," Tifa spat, her voice turning shrill with desperation, "is getting you out of my bedroom and my house. You may be my boss, but you don't have any rights to be here."

"I wouldn't want any," he scoffed, and it took Tifa a moment to realize how it sounded. Bedroom rights. Sexual rights. With a small smile, he bent down and hooked the strap of her discarded bra on his little finger, dangling it in front of her. "Bit small, love."

She flushed, thought of threatening him a sexual harassment suit, and knew she never would. "Please leave," she said in a tiny voice, and then realized with a stab of mortification that there were tears in her eyes again. Rufus must have thought that she was pathetic.

"Gladly," he informed her, "but you're coming with me."

Tifa blinked. The threat of tears had thankfully receded. "Coming with you? Why would I do that?"

"You don't have the proper clothes," Rufus said as if speaking to an idiot, "so we'll just have to get you some."

"I don't want –"

"This isn't about what you want, Tifa. It's about what I want. Get that straight right now."

Tifa bit hard on her lip. She couldn't afford to dig her heels now, not over something like this. She couldn't lose her job – it was literally the only thing she had right now. "Fine," she grumbled, "I assume you're footing the bill?"

He smiled. It made her insides curl unpleasantly. "Of course. You couldn't afford a pair of panties where we're going."

"I wouldn't want any," she snapped, but he'd already walked out of the bedroom, no doubt expecting her to follow, trotting at his heels like a good puppy.

Yaaaay! Finally! We're back on track! :)
Thank you to all you lovely readers who reviewed last time! You. Rock. My. Socks. Off. Even if most you are anons. I like silent types like Rude too! Haha!
I'm on vacation right now so updates are pretty quick. When next month comes around... I'm not so sure. :/
Oooh, you're such a brat prince Rufus.

Rufus: *cocks shotgun* Did you say something?

Please don't forget to drop a review. *inches out of the picture, leaving Rufus alone*

Rufus: I know you said something. Come back here!

*Runs away* I hope you liked this chaaaaaaaapterrrrrr

Rufus: Reno!

*Runs away faster desperately*