There are men who walk. And men who stride. Men who strut, stalk, and shuffle. But few men had the walk that Van Fanel had. No, you would have better luck pushing a thousand pound boulder up a steep hill by yourself then to match his walk. With every step his arrogance would grow, the mischief in his eyes would glint, and the wicked smirk tugging on his lips would twitch a bit.
He was a man to be admired, envied, oh yes definitely envied, and wanted. His attempts to make himself more low profile and less attractive under appropriate situations seemed to only make himself more appealing. It seemed the Gods willed for their statuesque son to never sink down to the entrance of a plebeian.
Thus the reason he had asked his secretary, a petite young woman named Merle, to advertise for the calling of a maid under her name instead of his. God knows who would have showed up at his doorstep if word was that Van Fanel needed an in-house maid. Merle had been granted the sensational duty of filtering all the incompetents from the group and allowing Van to interview the rest. He had wanted Merle to interview them but Merle had merely clucked her tongue at him, the only female in the world aside from his mother permitted to do so, and informed him that only a raise of a million dollars would possess her to do something like that.
He had then eagerly been about to agree on such a bargain when she shut the door behind her with a clean click, indication that she had only been joking.
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"Hi, I'm here to-"
"I know why you're here," Van drawled impatiently, looking up from his faint doodling on the stiff white paper in front of him. "If I didn't you'd be out on that," he paused, look the girl up and down, "decently pretty bottom of yours outside the gates." Dropping his pen languidly, he immediately propped his chin up with his palm in a lazy fashion and watched the girl lower herself into the seat across the desk hesitantly. "I didn't really invite you to sit down, but alright."
"Oh, I-"
"Your name?" he interrupted cleanly, expression flat.
"Hitomi."
"Are you a superstar or something? Last name," Van prompted, and Hitomi looked extremely hesitant.
"I'm just Hitomi."
Opening his mouth and raising his eyebrows in an annoyed expression, Van opened the top drawer of Merle's desk and pulled out a thin black pin. "Take it."
"W-what?" Hitomi stammered, looking at the pin oddly, as if touching it would bring her doom. What if it was some sort of pass to show she was excused already and to be kicked off property immediately. "Look if you really must know my last name-" she tried to defend herself, but Van shook his head.
"It's for your forsaken hair, you look like you were attacked by flying monkeys," Van said, offering the pin once more. "My staff never looks disheveled."
"Oh, and I suppose you always look immaculate," she snapped instantly, glaring at his messy dark hair, then growing red at her audacity. Way to pass an interview.
"Of course I never look immaculate," he grinned for the first time since he laid eyes on her. "I'm the devil himself, as they say. Of course I don't look proper."
Hitomi stifled down an indignant expression.
"So, Hitomi, do you have any references?"
"I've come fully prepared," Hitomi stated primly, pulling out a crisp sheet of paper from her worn, tan leather carrying case.
"I'm sure you have," Van deadpanned, taking the paper from her deftly and handling it mercilessly, crinkling the previously smooth, perfect surface. "Why did you choose such a ridiculous font for your title name?" he squinted, tilting the paper as if to make the cursive font less atrocious. "What are you, advertising for some cheap harem?"
"Of course I'm not!" Hitomi looked quite embarrassed.
He muttered something that Hitomi pretended not to hear.
"Here's something legible; three years at Atlantis. Very prestigious," he glanced up, feigning an impressed expression. Hitomi didn't look amused.
"Their reputation is impeccable," she replied calmly, "Not one student from Atlantis has ever proved to disappoint."
"Isn't that a nice amount of pressure," Van commented dryly. Flipping her piece of paper over so the blank side now faced the ceiling, Van eyed the girl in front of him bluntly. She wasn't anything special; he'd go as far to say she was quite bland. Her eyes were a mix of celery and forest green, and her lips were pale and small. Leaning on the arm of his chair languidly, Van pursed his lips before looking up at her properly.
"You certainly don't have the credentials to make it alive in Fanelia, Hitomi."
"What?" Hitomi gawked, eyes widening comically. "I've had three years at Atlantis, two years at the family Fasaa, four years-"
"I meant, your reputation," he tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk softly. "Once anyone hears the word Kanzaki, they'll run and flee."
"Sir-" Hitomi began, then stopped, her pale skin paling even more. "...Kanzaki?" she echoed delicately.
"Miss Kanzaki, with someone with so much gossip following your name, you certainly are naive to believe that anyone in Fanelia wouldn't recognize you."
Hitomi opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out.
"Thank you for the wonderfully understanding and unbiased interview, Sir," she said stiffly, biting back a sob unsuccessfully. Wiping her eyes at her sleeve, bottom lashes clumped together as she stood up in one smooth movement and turned to leave.
"You know, Hitomi," he reverted to her first name, "If you keep assuming things you're really not going to get anywhere in bloody life. I was merely speaking about general Fanelian society in conversational terms. I was never one to include myself in the common public," he drawled wryly. "I expect you here with your belongings tomorrow seven in the morning. A minute late and you can drag your belongings back where you brought them from."
The tears ebbed away rapidly, and Hitomi had the wide eyed look again.
"Thank you," was all she could say, after a long, shaky pause. "Mister..." she trailed off, shaking his offered hand, an informal way of sealing their deal.
"Fanel. Van Fanel."
Wide eyes grew into saucers as that almost cruel smile stretched onto Van's face. "You're-you're-"
"Known as the most insufferable company in Fanelia," he tipped his head rakishly. "Freshen yourself up a bit tomorrow, alright?" he moistened the pad of his thumb with his mouth before drawing it along Hitomi's bottom lip quickly, adding a bit of moisture and color. "I expect punctuality." And with a gentle shove, the door was slammed behind her.
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"But doesn't he have the softest brown eyes? I swear they're like velvet chocolate."
"Yeah and inside that chocolate is a bitter, egotistical center," Hitomi replied flatly, violently stuffing her two suitcases with her clothes. "You can see it Yukari! It's there, waiting to lash out at you! Like... Like a flying monkey!"
"Shouldn't you fold those?" Yukari suggested lightly, filing her nails idly as if she hadn't heard Hitomi's outrage. "They'll be all wrinkled."
"I. Don't. Care," Hitomi growled, slapping one of the suitcases shut with a vengeful triumph.
"He's really not that awful Hitomi," Yukari blew on her nails gently, blowing away the dust. "At Amano's gala, he danced with me and was quite the gentlemen."
"Quite the actor you mean," Hitomi narrowed her green eyes contemptuously before adding a few more garments, then shutting the second case.
"You need the money," her red head friend replied, not even giving Hitomi the chance to ask the question of 'Why am I doing this?'
"Whatever." Hitomi dragged her two suitcases to the floor, bustling around hurriedly, trying not to dwell on Yukari's comment. Yes, she did need the money. But no, it did not have to be from Van Fanel.
"And Van Fanel's probably the only one in town who will hire you," Yukari yet again cut in, as if reading Hitomi's mind.
Hitomi scowled.
"Well, sleep early, seven's early for Miss Sunshine," Yukari beamed cheerfully, affectionately ruffling Hitomi's hair and bounding out the door.
"Whore!" Hitomi yelled as the sound of footsteps pounding down stairs died away, then another slamming door.
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"Uniform's here. Phone; you'll have to dial 9 first. Cleaning supplies is in the closet outside of your room. You'll be starting immediately. And that's all you need to know," Merle concluded the orientation and tour, tapping her pen against her clipboard, the nodding as if agreeing with herself. "Anything else, please contact me and I will address it with Mr Fanel."
"Thank you," Hitomi bowed her head, unsure of what the polite custom was, then relaxing as Merle smiled nicely and shut the door behind her. Hitomi's room was modest, but nicely furnished. Her floors were hardwood, her sheets powder blue, her windows large. There was a smooth mahogany desk against the wall, and an imperial looking fine print wallpaper preened the smooth walls. Translucent white material provided a softening wash over the thick dark slate gray curtains, and a fresh bouquet of white lilies sprayed out from a modern dark clay vase. Slowly padding along the wooden floor, Hitomi picked up her uniform gingerly, half expecting some short seductive number. This was Van Fanel's house after all. But no, a simple fitted black t-shirt and a knee length black skirt was folded neatly over a crisp white apron. Wrapping up the whole ensemble was a length of black satin ribbon.
Locking her fingers together behind her neck, Hitomi sighed. She felt that hollow feeling seep into her gut, the feeling of loneliness. She hadn't even begun to work and was already feeling trapped.
"You just need a bit of money Hitomi," she assured herself, "You'll get out just fine."
But unless she made a fortune large enough to support herself into early early retirement, Hitomi was doomed. This job with Mr Fanel would probably be the loneliest one of her life, and the only chance she had left. She hated rumors now with a vengeance, and tugging out her hairbrush from her luggage violently, she brushed her hair as if it was directed at Mr. Fanel for ridiculing her hair. Setting down the paddle brush and deftly braiding her long hair, then tying the the gleaming rope with the black satin ribbon, she changed into her uniform and with a sigh, left to clean the enormous house.
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Why Van Fanel had a can of women's shaving cream, let alone drugstore women's shaving cream, became very apparent after she had cleaned the blasted rust stains left on the bathtub from the metal container. A scrap of pink and black lace posing as a pair of underwear was thrown into the corner of the bathroom, a few melted candles sprawling the window ledge. To her utter horror a used condom was hanging on the 'cold' knob of the bathtub, while a black push up bra hung from the 'hot' one. Several women's products littered the area around the sink, and grimly snapping on a pair of latex gloves, Hitomi began to chuck the items into the garbage can. Mr Fanel could replace them for his lady love, perhaps buy her shaving cream worthy of his own custom expensive kind. Hitomi had seen all his immaculate products lined up in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. She left the underwear and bra alone, dumping those into the laundry hamper on her little cleaning cart.
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Next was Mr Fanel's bedroom. The closed mahogany doors loomed at her, and gulping she slowly opened the cool metal doorknob before entering. A whiff of something outdoors-like entered her nose as she gently walked over the blonde wood floors, the bed the main feature in this room. It was king sized, materials of silk and cotton with an eight hundred thread count crumpled over the sturdy mattress. She had a new set of sheets ready on her cart, remembering enviously the array of different high quality bed sheets Mr Fanel had in his linen closet. His linen closet was bigger then her own clothing closet.
She decided to start with the other aspects of his room first before moving onto the tricky and dreaded territory of his bed, cleaning up the mirror and windows, mopping the floors, deodorizing his curtains, and checking his closet for creased clothes.
"You seem to be avoiding the bed," came a drawling, deep voice.
Hitomi felt her skin prickle in alarm.
"I was leaving it for last," she replied stiffly, turning around abruptly to find Van Fanel leaning languidly against the doorframe to his bloody lair. An infuriatingly slow, indulgent smile graced his lips.
"Not curious, are you?"
"I would be more curious about a dying sea sponge, thank you very much," she retorted with a haughty lift of her chin. He arched an eyebrow, the amusement still alive in those warm eyes. Hitomi tried to stop herself from looking into those depths and shivering. His eyes held the feeling of being soaked in a long, hot bath before being suddenly plunged into an icy lake.
"Then you must be very curious about dying sea sponges," Van grinned faintly, looking quite satisfied with himself.
Glaring at him, she indignantly grabbed a large handful of his bed sheets and stuffed them into the laundry hamper, grabbing the fresh new set and tucking it over the mattress violently.
"Oh, you sure showed me," Van mocked, unable to suppress a smirk as he tilted his head disarmingly.
"Good day to you, Mr. Fanel," Hitomi gritted out in the sunniest fashion possible, plastering on a disturbing looking smile and pushing the cart tersely out of the room.
"Mmm, bed," Van was heard stretching with satisfaction, and unwisely stealing a glance back into the open bedroom, Hitomi saw him collapse onto the perfectly made bed with as much weight possible, crinkling them back up and twisting the sheets.
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From then on, Hitomi made it her life mission to avoid Mr. Fanel as much as possible. Well, perhaps not her life mission, but you get the idea. It had been four heavenly days without the Devil himself taunting her, and as she hummed incoherently while scrubbing away the scuff marks underneath Mr. Fanel's desk, she nearly screamed as a pair of large, square hands rested on her hips. It would have been a bit hard to crane her neck around to see who it was as she was on all fours, however only one person in the house would have the audacity to do something like this.
"Hold on, I need to find something," Van murmured, celery green eyes widening into saucers as he straddled her, moving over and over her as finally he craned his head underneath the desk, cordless phone in hand. "So it's underneath the- Oh yeah I found it," he interrupted himself, peeling off a white sticker from one of the dragging wires. "Great, thanks, I'll just call the company then," he spoke charmingly into the phone, placing a hand on Hitomi's back so he could slowly push himself up and straight. With a click of the phone, he looked down at her with borderline glee. "Sorry about that."
"What am I, your donkey?" Hitomi managed to squawk furiously.
"No," a wicked shadow crossed Van's face, "I'll be riding you eventually Hitomi but you definitely won't be a donkey then."
"That is sexual harassment," Hitomi shot back crossly, and Van seemed to look a little annoyed. Ha, Hitomi thought triumphantly. Point.
"It's not sexual harassment if you want it," he spoke slowly, looking at her purposefully and leaning down so slowly yet quickly enough for her not to react. "Try to be honest about one thing," his voice was dangerously intoxicating. "You want this, don't you," he breathed, his lips brushing her cheek ever so softly before pulling away and with a smirk, walking away.
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A/N: Yeah I haven't updated in like five years. And you're all probably going to kill me for starting another story; I have literally, so much of NOBODY SAID IT WAS EASY done (the next chapter I mean) but there's these two holes I just don't know how to fill. And I have no idea where Every Moment is going anymore ) Anyways, here you go, hope you enjoy, please review and I hope I didn't make you gag too much from the horrible writing haha….
-CxV