Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I love you all. Okay, so this chapter is a downer, again. Sorry to all those who wanted a quick resolution to the angst but torturing our heroes makes for such good drama. However the next chapters are much happier i promise.
Oh and another warning for language. This is the last time I promise.
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It took five hours, forty-two minutes, and twenty-three seconds.
It took five hours, forty-two minutes, and twenty-three seconds for the worst pain of my life to subside to a painful blur and for the anger to bubble to the surface.
And I was pissed.
It was irrationally anger, even in my drunken stupor I knew that. But it was either irrational anger or unbearable pain and I wasn't ready to face the pain. The anger, like the glow that came from my chest, only held off the inevitable but I was going to avoid the pain for as long as I could. So this meant fuming in my office until the need to destroy something beautiful became too much to handle.
And the most beautiful thing I know of was currently three rooms down the hall.
She knew what this would do to me. She purposely went out today just so I would see them together. She is showing him off, trying to make me feels this way. She is worse than all those other women who try to get to me for my money. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.
I hate her beautiful smile. I hate her soft voice. I hate her loving gaze. I hate everything about her.
I take a deep swig of the quickly disappearing bottle. The pain is slowly returning and not even the scotch is making it go away.
I look around desperately for a distraction. I fumble through the papers on my desk, every single one of the papers has her name on it. I clumsily go through my desk but she has left her mark on everything, either by the placement or the wrapping of fragile items or her neat signature at the bottom of every document he owned. She had wriggled into his life at sometime during the past seven years without him even knowing it. She had so integrated herself so deeply into his life that at this point there was no way she could be extracted from it without her absence seriously affecting his mental health.
And with Mr. Perfect in her life it is only a matter of time before she moves on and away from her crazy boss so she can go and live a perfect life with her perfect husband and her sure-to-be perfect children.
Well, I am not going down without a fight.
Full of whiskey courage and anger, I stormed out of my office and marched down three doors to where I knew she was working on some important thing or another.
My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her. She looks so beautiful, especially when she looks as agitated as she does right now. She doesn't even look up when I entered the room. Her disregard of my presence sends a bullet of pain straight to my heart and further provokes the words that are about to come out of my mouth.
"Well, I'm surprised you're still here." Her head shoots up and she looks startled by my appearance. I realize I must look like death warmed over, what with the drinking and tenseness of my demeanor. However, her concern just makes me angrier and I continued. "Mr. Perfect busy tonight?"
Now she looks completely confused. "What are you talking about Mr. Stark?"
I feel like she slapped me. How dare she try to hide him from me? Why is she playing this little game? Can't she see that I am in pain? I cross the room in two drunken strides and I lower my voice, that is only slightly slurred. "I am talking about Mr. Oliver fucking Harrison."
She only reacts for a moment. Even in my haze I admire her professionalism, nothing ever rattles her. Well, not tonight. Tonight I am going to make her feel exactly what I am feeling. Tonight I am going to shake the unflappable Pepper Potts, even if it kills me.
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When I got back to Tony's the house was unexplainably quiet, usually there is loud music blasting down in the workshop or Tony screaming at the top of his lungs at someone. Quite often that someone is me.
Yet I desperately wanted to avoid my employer so I ran (or fast walked as quickly as a woman in three inch heels could) to my office and slammed the door shut before anyone realized I had returned.
I let out a sigh of relief when I finally made it to the sanctity of my office. These dates were starting to have a counter-productive effect. Instead of making me forget about a certain superhero, it now seems that all I ever think about is Tony Stark. It's an illness.
I growl softly in frustration. I just need some good old fashioned work to keep me occupied, that's all. I settle down at my desk and for the next five hours or so I lose myself in paperwork and phone calls. I fall into the oblivion of deskwork, so much so that I don't notice a very drunk Tony Stark stumble into my office until he speaks.
"Well, I'm surprised you're still here." My head snaps up and I am greeted by a drunk and apparently fuming man who may or may not be my boss, I had a hard time telling because it was a toss up between her boss or a bum. She would have believed either, his hair was sticking out like he had been running his hands through it, his eyes were watery and blood-shot, his jeans and T-shirt were rumpled and twisted, and he smelled like he had just rolled in a brewery. What startles me most though, is the malice and contempt in his eyes. A look I have never had directed by me. My blood runs cold and I remind myself that Tony would never physically hurt me. Yet more frightening than the anger, is another emotion that alludes me as to its identity.
He continues, "Mr. Perfect busy tonight?" I stare at him, what the hell is he talking about? Is this a drunken joke?
"What are you talking about Mr. Stark?" I ask calmly.
He looks like I punched him, the hurt in his eyes is palpable and I feel like I am drowning in a sea of sadness. The look is soon gone and replace once again by anger. I tense as he crosses the room towards me, my entire body on high alert. I know something is wrong, he is far too held together. Like the calm before the storm.
Now only a few feet away from me I can smell the bottle of scotch all over his breath. My eyes burn slightly from the stench.
He lowers his voice and I curse my weak body for trembling, although at this moment I'm not sure if it with lust or fear. "I'm talking about Mr. Oliver fucking Harrison."
The bottom of my stomach falls out and I flinch slightly at the biting tone of his words.
How the hell did he know about Oliver? Is this why he is so pissed? What the hell is going on? I feel my emotions running across my face and I quickly school them back to neutral.
Tony still gives away nothing but leans in just a bit closer to me. I am trembling again, but this time it is most surely from fear. In the seven years I have worked for Tony I have never seen him like this. It scares me.
He continues to speak in a growling voice. "How long have you been seeing him?" His casual question is given more weight by the menace in his tone.
Speaking with courage I didn't know I had I hotly retort, "I don't see how this is any of your business Mr. Stark. I am allowed to date, am I not?"
Professionalism seems to be the wrong tactic because he grips the side of my desk tightly before continuing through clenched teeth. "No, of course you are allowed to date. I was just wondering if leaving work to have your little 'get-togethers' was going to become a common practice?"
I flush at the insult to my work and I feel myself grow warm with anger. "Mr. Stark, I am allowed an hour lunch break by the law. And during this hour I am allowed to go out anywhere and with anyone I choose. With or without your consent."
"NO!" Tony yells and slams his fists down onto the desk making my picture frames rattle and fall. I take an unconscious step backwards but Tony just moves closer. "No, you can't. Don't you understand?" he asks in a whisper.
"Tony." I say his name softly, seeing an opening and wanting him to calm down. He looks startled by my voice and I see the sadness return to his gaze. His entire face seems to crumple and my heart breaks slightly for him. However, the sadness doesn't last long and the steel returns to his visage and the predator returns.
He closes the distance between us, we are practically touching. "Has he screwed you yet?"
The question takes me off guard and against my will I feel my eyes start to water. I will not cry in front of Tony Stark. I will not cry in front of Tony Stark.
"What did you say?!" The anger keeps my tears in check. I bring my hand up to slap him across the face but he anticipates the move and grabs my hand before I even graze his cheek.
My wrist still in his hold, he lets out a little growl. "You heard me. Have you fucked him yet. Or are you holding out on him, dangling it in front of him like a dog with a bone? Or did you do it the first night you met him?" He lets out a sneer that makes him seem inhuman. "I'm betting the first one, there's a reason everyone at the office calls you ice queen."
I feel like he kicked me in the stomach, all the air wooshes out of my lungs and I can't breathe. The anger is all I have and it gives me enough strength to continue.
I wretch my hand out of his grip but I don't step back. "Mr. Stark," I begin in the most neutral tone possible, it still wavers slightly with emotion, "contrary to your belief I do not belong to you and I never will. I am just your assistant, that is all. You have no right to tell me who I can and cannot see." My voice begins to waver uncontrollably with emotion but I continue. "If I want to fuck Oliver, I will, there is nothing you can say about it and you will just have to deal with it."
Tony seems unperturbed by my spiel, maybe even more resolute. Without warning he grabs my face and says in a harsh whisper. "I can't deal with it." Before I could respond in any way his mouth covers my own in a searing kiss.
My brain completely shuts off and I find myself frozen in time. The only sensation registering was Tony's lips over mine; I was completely unable to react. Tony, however, is determined and forces me to respond, not that it took too much. I slowly start to kiss him back with the same vigor, putting all my anger and passion and love into the kiss, clinging to him desperately.
The kiss starts of angry, another way for us to attack each other. Tongues battling for control and dominance, teeth biting lips, my nails digging into his arms. However, soon the kiss became soft and Tony's grip on me softened, kissing me softly like he was trying apologize. I let out a small moan of contentment. Kissing Tony felt so wonderfully right, better than any kiss I have ever had.
Tony moaned slightly in response to my vocalization. The small noise brought me crashing back to earth and I realized what I was doing. I was kissing my boss, the only man in the world who was off limits. The only man in the world who could break my heart. The only man that I love.
I pull away from him like I had been burned. We are breathing erratically, both trying to catch our breaths. I try to speak or do something. His intense gaze burns me and I finally realize what that other emotion was hiding beneath his anger. Love. Tony Stark loves me.
My eyes grow wide as I realize that all of Tony's cards are on the table. He is jealous, he wants me, he loves me.
As the realization sinks in I do what any woman would do when confronted by her worst fear. I run.
I sprint past Tony, even as I hear him call my name desperately. I run out to the front of the house, into my car, and I drive away as fast as possible.
I don't know where I am going but I eventually have to pull off to the side of the road because my tears are making it impossible to drive. Safely parked in a vacant lot, I drop my head to the steering wheel. All the emotions of the day flood back and I finally let it happen. I let my head rest on the steering wheel of my Audi and I cry. I cry for myself, I cry for Tony, I cry for everyone who's ever been in love. It's all I can do now.
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If you review, I promise to make Tony happy, in the next chapter!