Ihatebooboos39: First off, nice name. Secondly, I'm so glad you left such a wonderfully long review. It made my day, and actually persuaded me to get this story in full-gear again. And last but not least, Alan Rickman is a complete genius, and it helps that his velvet accent and handsome attributes contribute greatly to his increasing sex appeal. –drools- Alright, I'm done. But, thank-you for reading this, and making it one of your favorite stories. Cheers!

Nicole: Reference to the "Mustardseed Parable", just for you. Seriously, if you haven't yet, run and read it.

Chapter Four

Temptation's an Arse

Alessia chuckled un-easily, glad that the Metatron could be humorous in a time like this, even if she was slowly falling apart from the inside-out. Literally, she was sure. Her heart was beating like a wild stallion, her mind surging round and about, her lungs heaving roughly as she increased the intake of oxygen to keep her blood flowing smoothly. Pushing a strand of platinum hair behind her ear with a few shaky fingers, she slowly raised a clenched fist, and knocked on the large oaken door in front of her with great apprehension.

After a few moments time, in which Alessia became lost in a dazed stupor of sorts, a voice was heard from inside the door's enclosure. Cheerfully it chirped, "Ah, Alessia, darling. Come in, come in!" Alessia swallowed hard; willing away the force begging her to turn and run, run as fast as her legs could carry her, to anywhere other than where she was now. Although it seemed to take all her might to open the entrance erratically, she found herself sliding into the office with great ease and standing before the eye's of her first task. Mentally she noted how biblical that really sounded. Alessia Stalin's "First Great Feat"; she was sure it would go alongside the Mustard Seed parable, one of these days, in the Good Book.

The office, itself, was a great accomplishment and proudly shone with the characteristic's of it's magnificent owner. It was square in shape, but the wall's were what made it truly unique. Instead of regular mahogany, or oak paneling, Mrs. Beddington had gone for a very different effect. An effect, which she joked, "reflected" her views of the company as it "shone" with pride. You see, the walls were covered in mirror's, like that of a child's dance studio. Each of the wall's reflected that of the one across from them, giving the office an infinitely large look. This, as it would have been supposed, had always made Alessia feel intimidated, inferior, lost. In the center, Mrs. Beddington sat, most pristinely and properly, at her steel desk on which many paper's were stacked neatly and book's were opened to references of hard to do cases. Aside from the paper's, she had placed a large, and very expensive, computer, a picture frame holding a photo of herself and her family, a clock, an intercom, and many other odd little knick-knack's of which she found no use but sheer amusement. Behind her was a huge shelf, covering most of the mirrored wall; lined with rows and row's of books, and file's, and thing-a-ma-giggy's from who know's where and when.

But what demoralized Alessia the most as she stood by the doorway, wasn't the office at all. It was her. The wonderful woman who dwelled within. Samara Beddington. Head of the Criminal Defense Unit for, well, ever since Alessia could remember. There had always been something of an odd relationship between the two, as they had gone to grade school together, parted in high-school, only to be re-united in Harvard years later. Now there she sat, behind her desk, smiling at Alessia brightly. Her lock's of auburn and deep coffee fell onto her dainty shoulder's in mass amounts, streaked beautifully with strands of rich burgundy and maroon. Her eye's of hazel scanned Alessia ruthlessly, searching for an answer as to why she was there, and suddenly Alessia felt naked, stripped, observed. Samara had the ability to do that to you, make you feel as if she knew everything she wanted to, and everything you never wanted her to. And when Alessia could not come out and say herself why she had come, she found Samara opening her placid rose lip's to simply state, "Well, take a seat and spit it out, mon amie, we don't have all day."

Alessia breathed deeply, and moved forward towards the black leather armchair in front of the steel desk, feeling a little less comfortable then usual as she took a seat, "I'm here to offer my resignation."

There, she had said it. And now, she wanted nothing more than for the word's to come flowing back and retreating.

Samara, however, simply laughed, "No, really. What would you like?" She smiled, all too sweetly, and Alessia found a lump forming in her throat.

"I came to quit," Alessia stammered again, hoping that God would help her out just this once and give her a tad more confidence, "I've decided to pursue, erm, another career option, uhm, and I think it's in my best interest to-"

"Wait one second, Alessia." Samara interrupted roughly, crossing her arm's across her front, chocolate eyebrow's raising in question, "You're telling me, your boss, that it's in your best interest to leave the Firm? Should I not be the one to tell you what I think is in your best interest? Last time I checked you were our top employee, able to work seven cases at once, and nearing a pay raise- that, my love, is not in your best interest to disregard."

"Yes, but I-" Alessia stuttered in her defense.

"Is that it? You've been waiting too long for a pay raise? Well then, if that's what it takes to keep you. Let's up that pay. Sound good?" Samara asked rapidly, not giving the blonde a chance to breathe before picking up a file to her right and scanning through it, "You're already making a ten thousand a month. Let's say, thirty. Hmmm?"

Alessia's jaw-dropped, and her eyebrow's cocked. Thirty thousand. A MONTH? Was she kidding? Of course not, Samara was never one to kid about such serious issue's. However, Alessia needed to quit. She needed to quit! But the money was so tempting. So very tempting. And it was there, all she had to do was reach out for it. She could have anything she wanted with that kind of cash, she could have it all and more.

Opening her mouth to speak, she found herself lost in thought.

"How about a car? Would you like a car? I've got a pretty decent Escalade sitting in my driveway, well, to be honest, I have two. Candy apple red, nightshade leather interior. Say it, and it's yours."

An Escalade? She was being offered thirty thousand dollar's a month, and a fine car! If she simply kept her job! This was too good to be true, and the temptation was tearing her up inside. She wanted to jump out and scream at the top of her voice, to pull out her hair, to reach across the desk and shake her colleague senseless.

"You drive a hard bargain," Samara continued with thoughtfulness, raising her index finger to her chin inquisitively, as Alessia sat across from her in shock, "A house. I'll buy you a summer cottage on the shore of Paris. Or how about London? You've always loved London."

It was then that Alessia's mind hit something crucial. Temptation. One of the most incredulous thing's ever stumbled on in the Bible. In every story there was temptation. Temptation to stray from the path in which you needed to travel, temptation to go around your original belief's, temptation to forget about your virtue's and moral's. Those who broke down in front of temptation suffered, but those who did not were shown gratification beyond their very knowledge.

"Not London?" Samara rambled on, the word's nothing but a fuzzy array of tone, "How about Greece. I hear there are some really nice-"

"Listen, as much as this pains me." Alessia took a deep breathe, closing her cobalt eye's and hoping they would work as lumberjack's, chopping the situation from her sight, "Samara, I have to quit, alright? I just have to. There is no persuading me not to, because I have certain reasons not even you can comprehend, reasons that measure far beyond that of money, or automobiles, or summer cottages. Therefore, in order to keep my sanity, I'm just going to stand up right now and march out of this office. My thing's will be cleared by the end of the day and I will organize my file's and have them on your desk by tomorrow morning. Thank you for your time."

And with that, Alessia stood up from her leather seat and headed towards the door. Swinging it open, she stepped out into the hallway without one glance back at what could have been of her life, a life she had wished for ever since forever. Paris, London, car's, money. Sighing, her eye's met with Metatron's, who was leaning against the wall across the hallway. Bit by bit, little by little, she felt her eye's fill with tears, and raising an angry fist she briskly whisked them away.

The elevator was taken in silence for another twenty-five floors.

No one even came out of their office's to say good-bye as Alessia left her job behind her, as well as a piece of her past self. And yet, something told her, it wasn't the first time she'd be doing such.