Disclaimer: I do not own Lost.


"I am sorry, but I have to ask. Do I know you from somewhere?" The voice that spoke was soft, gentle, and accented. Shannon looked up from her magazine, where she was sprawled across a sofa in Boone's offices. She twirled a lock of her blonde hair around her finger and lifted her face to the stranger.

Short black curls framed a face that could better be called magnetic than handsome. Black eyes blinked beneath a fringe of dark lashes that lay like smudges against darkened skin. They watched her, the expression in them unreadable, but kindness emanated from his easy stance and quick smile, that showed off a brilliant row of white teeth.

"No," Shannon said shortly, interest piqued enough to sit up from her slouch, showing off her lean stomach, pulling her shirt lower across the brief expanse of cleavage shown. "But we could remedy that," with a quick quirk of her eyebrows she watched the man transform before her. Kindness was replaced with disappointment and something else…something vague and wary. He straightened his back stiff and sharp with the precision that bespoke of military training.

"I am sorry then. Your face, it seemed familiar."

The door to Boone's office opened and he stepped out, a blue shirt brightening his already considerably light eyes. He looked perturbed, his face set into a scowl that seemed to be perpetual these days. A woman darted out behind him, small and dark, a huge diamond glinting off her hand. She stopped when she saw Shannon.

"Shan!" she cried in delight. "I didn't know you were home from Australia." The girl pulled the much taller Shannon to her feet and kissed the air around her cheeks. Shannon tried not to notice the way her makeup was mussed and her hair artfully tousled, or the skewed wrinkles of Boone's shirt.

"I just got in a month ago, Avion."

"Why Boone," Avion purred, turning to the other man. "You didn't let me know she was in town. Francis asked me to marry him."

"That's wonderful," Shannon said dully. Francis had been Shannon's last conquest before Brian, and was her current lover.

"Isn't it just?" Avion said, pulling back from Shannon. She discreetly smoothed her hair before smiling at Boone. "I really must rush off darling. Thank you for handling that disaster with caterer. I don't know what I would do without you," she simpered.

He smirked at her, his eyes flashing knowingly at Shannon. "I just want everything to be wonderful for your big day, Ms. Summerton."

"With you planning it, it will be," she added sweetly. "You must come, Shannon. It will be the event of the year. I'm sure you can find a date, even at this late a notice." The bite of her words was harsh, but cleverly disguised with the gentle tinkle of her laugh. "See you next week, Mr. Carlyle."

The Arabian gentleman cleared his throat. He had been silent through the whole ordeal, despite the obvious undercurrents of tension that ran high between the three young people. A month. It was still hard to believe.

"Ah," Boone said, turning. "Mr. Jarrah, I believe. We spoke over the phone. I am Boone Carlyle."

"I need to talk to you," Shannon hissed.

"Mr. Jarrah has an appointment." Boone said.

"I was here first. I was here before your little whore was too. This is important." Shannon seethed, through gritted teeth. Boone just smiled at her.

"Customers first, love, you know how business is."

"Not as cutthroat as you," she snapped.

"I can come back at a better time."

"No!" Boone said. "Yes!" Shannon shouted.

"I'll, uh, just be going then," he said backing towards the door.

"That is entirely unnecessary, Mr. Jarrah," Shannon said, lightly, grabbing her purse. "My brother will be able to see to all of your needs. When he's not to busy thinking of himself." She stormed off, head held high, back stiff and straight.

"She is beautiful when she's angry," Boone said, holding his door open. "Perhaps that is why I like to make her so, Mr. Jarrah."

"Yes, yes she is. And call me Sayid."

Shannon bumped into a woman wearing an abayah at the bottom of the building. Her face was beautiful, her smile even more so.

"Excuse me," her accent was so heavy Shannon had a hard time translating it.

"Let me guess, tall, dark, and handsome? Upstairs with short, stupid, and spiteful," Shannon motioned to the large building behind her. Carlyle Incorporated was a large tower, large, glassy windows tinted against the afternoon sun. The woman looked up, shading her eyes. In that moment, Shannon hated her. She had a man who was good and kind, and loved her. Shannon could tell by the easy smile and the glow that emanated from her eyes and enveloped her whole face. She couldn't know how lucky she was. "Fifth floor."

"Thank you," the woman said.

"Pleasure is all mine," Shannon murmured, already signaling for a cab. She needed to see Francis. She needed the quick thrill of pleasure he gave her, then she needed to bitch him out about Avion, then dump his sorry ass and move on to the next rich, handsome boy that flashed her a grin…and a wad of money.

Boone escorted Mr. and soon to be Mrs. Jarrah from his offices, his head already filled with ideas. He had never done a Muslim wedding, and he needed to research quickly. They had offered a lot of money, needing to marry quickly for the Mrs. to stay in the states. But they wanted a nice wedding, lavish but small, elegant but informal. With a groan he rested his head on his hands. He needed help. He needed Shannon. She was good at this thing. Boone ran numbers, juggled figures, scheduled the decorator, the caterer, the florists, the musicians, comforted family members, and schmoozed the customers. Shannon was the one with the head for research, for bringing out the extra in the ordinary.

First he had to grovel. Shannon liked that, the pitiful, the need in his voice when he apologized, profusely. Flowers, chocolates, she liked the idea of romance. The idea that she held power over him, over his heart. But he had left it in that cold hotel room in Australia, when she had let go of her drunken inhibitions and opted for cold, empty sex. When her cool blue eyes flashed disgust and pity.

Never again. He'd never feel that way again, not for her, not for anyone. His career was weddings, his life was romance, but Boone Carlyle's heart was shriveled and dead. Shannon hadn't changed. She was still cold, still scathing, still every bit the catty socialite she had been before her impromptu elopement to France, followed by her escape to Australia.

His mother had not been happy to see her return. Had raged and shouted in a drunken fit that was her constant state these days. But she relented, giving Shannon a position in her offices and an apartment in her hotel. Shannon had resumed the quick, fast paced life she had left behind, parties, balls, money, and the dirty, empty life only the fabulously wealthy led. Boone had thrown himself into work, and had hired a less than respectable company to find Brian and…get his money back.

He picked up his cell phone and dialed the number that had been left for him. It rang three times before a voice answered.

"Yeah?"

"This is Carlyle. Any news yet?"

"No. I told you not to call unless it was important." The voice on the other line drawled.

"This is important," Boone snapped, rubbing at the headache that was forming over his brows. "It has been a month, and for all the time and money all you have been able to return to me is a measly three thousand."

"This thing takes time, finesse, the right applications of pressure. A con can't be rushed. You want your money back, doubled, it will take time. I promised results, Carlyle. And about that thing you were supposed to do for me?"

Boone unlocked the bottom drawer to his desk and pulled out a thick folder.

"I'll have that for you when you have my money. And just for collateral…Kathryn Dodd, formerly Kathryn Austin."