Chapter One:
Santana Lopez was pissed off.
Last night, she'd endured the date from hell. She didn't usually do dates but it had been almost a month since she'd last gotten laid and when her friend Kurt had offered to hook her up with the 'super-hot' new girl from his office she'd thought 'Why the hell not?'
The evening had started out okay. Santana had booked a table at Mario's, a cute little Italian place a few blocks from her apartment. It was one of her favorite Manhattan haunts; the food was nice, and the atmosphere was perfect for when she wanted to charm the pants off a girl. Literally.
Kurt had been right about one thing at least, Sara – or was it Samantha- was hot. She was also a psychopath.
It had taken Sara/Samantha less than ten minutes to devise the pet name 'Sanny-bear', and when halfway through the main course, she'd invited Santana to meet her parents back in Iowa, the Latina knew it was time to call it a night.
So, she excused herself to the bathroom before practically sprinting to the kitchen and escaping through the service entrance. Santana wasn't ashamed to say this was a trick she'd employed many times over the years. Shit, she owed Mario big time.
After her swift exit, she'd ended up back at her apartment where she took out her frustrations on her emergency bottle of Merlot whilst watching The Notebook on AMC. Usually, Santana hated sappy movies. She didn't do feelings or romance or any of that mushy shit. But the wine, coupled with thoughts of her disastrous evening, was enough to make even the great Santana Lopez shed a tear. Or two.
She'd fallen asleep on the sofa, drunk and puffy-eyed, and proceeded to sleep through her alarm. She'd woken with a stiff neck and a pounding headache; her foul mood made worse when she checked her cupboards and realized she was all out of Advil.
Her failure to wake up on time had meant that she had had to forego her morning run and hotfoot it to the subway station. That was why she now found herself sandwiched in between two large, profusely sweaty guys, one of whom kept 'accidentally' brushing her ass with his meaty paw. She'd tried giving him her signature death stare, but it didn't seem to be having the desired effect.
'When I get this promotion', Santana thought resentfully 'I'm buying a fucking Lamborghini'.
Ah, the promotion. Yet another reason the Latina was so wound up.
Santana was good at her job. No, she was better than good. Brilliant in fact. She'd graduated from Columbia in the top one percent of her class before scoring an internship at Schuester and Son; one of the top law firms in the country.
At 26, she'd spent the last four years working her way up the ladder and now found herself in contention for a position as Senior Associate. Santana may have been young, but she knew she was good enough.
The one thing standing in her way was the Sylvester Deal. Sue Sylvester was one of the most renowned businesswomen in North America and she was mounting a huge lawsuit against a business rival who had tried smearing her name in the tabloids.
Santana had been tasked with pitching a killer legal strategy to Sylvester and her team. She'd been working on the case for weeks but so far, the client was unimpressed. In fact, the last time Santana had presented her ideas, Sue had simply pursed her lips and said "Terrible" before abruptly ending the conference call.
If only Santana could tell that bitch what she really thought of her…
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Chirped a voice beside her as she stormed into the cavernous lobby of Schuester and Son.
The voice belonged to Quinn Fabray – a pretty blonde paralegal from the floor below. She also happened to be Santana's best friend.
"Fuck off Fabray." Snapped Santana waspishly.
"Fine." Pouted the blonde. "But I'm guessing you won't be wanting this."
Santana noticed the steaming chai latte her friend was proffering and growled, holding out her hand. "Gimme."
Santana and Quinn went way back. They had met in Kindergarten and proceeded to spend the next ten years as firm frenemies. In high school they'd been co-captains of the Cheerios, their school's cheerleading squad, but their friendship had lacked substance beyond sharing clothes and fighting over boys (Santana had been firmly in the closet until freshman year at Columbia).
After graduation, they'd both left Ohio for college and unsurprisingly drifted apart. However, on Santana's first day at Schuester and Son she'd recognized a familiar face during orientation. Turns out that Quinn had also got herself an internship after graduating from Yale as her class Valedictorian. She always had been super smart.
The pair couldn't believe it and, after their first week in the job, they caught up over one too many Martinis and the rest was history.
As much as they bickered, Santana loved the blonde to pieces. They'd also formed a pretty great friendship group. The Latina had introduced Quinn to Mercedes, her college roommate, as well as Kurt, a flamboyant fashion major she'd met in a gay bar Sophomore year, and his boyfriend Blaine.
Quinn had brought her actress flat-mate Rachel into the fold as well as another paralegal Tina and her fiancée Mike.
They were a slightly dysfunctional group but, over the years, they'd become Santana's family – something she was incredibly grateful for.
"So, how was your date?" cooed Quinn.
"It wasn't a date" snapped Santana "It was a hook-up. I just wanted to get laid."
"The look on your face tells me that things didn't quite go as planned."
Santana scoffed. "You can say that again. We didn't even make it to dessert. And you know how much I love Mario's tiramisu."
"Don't tell me you made a break for it."
The Latina smirked.
"Santana!" Quinn exclaimed "The poor girl."
"Poor girl my ass. She was fucking batshit crazy. I'm done with dating. Seriously Q. I have a super expensive vibrator. That's much less hassle than…" the brunette trailed off as her eyes scanned the lobby and saw quite possibly the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life.
Santana was hot. She knew she was, and she was accustomed to both guys and girls falling at her feet. But this girl was like a freaking angel.
She was tall, made taller by an expensive-looking pair of black Louboutins, with blonde hair that fell across her slender shoulders in beachy waves. She had the bluest eyes Santana had ever seen and a smile that seemed to illuminate her whole face.
She was talking to Finn Hudson, one of the junior associates who worked on her team. He was a nice guy; goofy but nice. Still, she couldn't help the jealous twist in her stomach as the blonde touched his arm and giggled in response to something he said.
"Keep it in your pants Lopez." Quinn chided playfully as she followed Santana's gaze.
"Who is she and why have we not been introduced?" breathed the brunette.
"No idea." Quinn shrugged "But I do know that Hudson is not that funny. Anyway, Rachel's set starts at nine tonight, so I'll just meet you at Callbacks at eight-thirty. San? Earth to Santana Lopez."
"Ugh" Santana groaned dragging her gaze away from the blonde goddess. "Do I really have to go? I'm still recovering from that time Berry did a one-woman medley of One Day More."
"San you promised." Sighed Quinn. "Besides, the whole gang is going, and it will give us a chance to catch up. I feel like I've hardly seen you lately."
"I know." Santana conceded. "I've just been really busy with the Sylvester case. Ugh, okay. Fine I'll go, but the second she sings any Les Mis I'm out of there."
"I'll be right behind you." The blonde grinned "How's the case going anyway?"
"It's not" Santana grimaced. She turned to look back at where the mystery blonde had been stood but both she and Finn were nowhere to be seen. The Latina checked her watch.
"Shit, I'm late. I have to go Q; I'll see you tonight."
The two said their goodbyes and Santana made her way towards the elevators. She hated being late. Will, her boss, would kill her.
The elevator door started to inch closed and Santana picked up her pace.
"Wait!" She called "Hold the door!"
As she reached the elevator, her heel skidded on the marble floor and she toppled forwards, launching her coffee into the air as she landed inelegantly on her knees.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Hissed a voice.
Santana looked up and was met with the sight of the gorgeous blonde from the lobby. Except this time, she wasn't smiling. In fact, she had a face like thunder. And a shirt covered in coffee.
"Oh my god!" Santana breathed, scrambling to her feet as the door slid shut behind her, trapping the two women in the stuffy elevator. "I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean to –'
"Well you did." The blonde cut her off brusquely. "Do you have any idea how much this shirt cost?"
"I, um, I'll buy you a new one." The brunette offered.
"Don't bother" replied the other woman coldly, dabbing at the stain with a Kleenex. "Just watch where you're fucking going next time."
Santana felt anger bubbling inside her. Yes, she felt bad about ruining the woman's shirt, and yes, she was still absolutely stunning, but it was an accident and she'd apologized. Santana Lopez never apologized.
"Listen lady, I've said I'm sorry, there's no need to be such a bitch."
The blonde arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Oh really? Well let me tell you something lady-'
Her tirade was halted by the ringing of her phone, which she answered whilst keeping her gaze fixed frostily on Santana.
"Sorry, I'm on my way. I've just got to make a quick detour to the ladies room. Some idiot has just spilled coffee all over me."
The elevator door pinged open and the blonde gave one more pointed look at Santana before stalking off in the direction of the women's bathroom.
"What a cow." Santana growled as she headed in the opposite direction.
"Will wants to see you." Sing-songed Sugar, the department's secretary as she set her bag down on her desk.
"Fucking brilliant." Mumbled Santana, making for her boss's office.
"Will, I'm only ten minutes late." The Latina started as she entered the room without knocking. "You can save the lecture for-'
"Sit down Santana." Will interrupted as he pressed his hand to his temple. "This isn't about your timekeeping."
"Oh, okay." The brunette said a little more calmly as she slumped into the chair opposite her boss. Something wasn't right. "What's the matter?"
"I just got off the phone with my father." Will's dad, Michael, was the founder and managing partner of Schuester and Son. "He's making cuts. Big cuts. Up to 100 people could lose their jobs."
Shit. "You're not firing me, are you?" Santana asked warily.
"No, I'm not firing you Santana." Will replied with a wry smile. "But our department could be hit. Hudson, Abrams and Motta are all on the provisional list of redundancies. They'll lose their jobs unless…"
"Unless?"
"Unless we get the manage to get the Sylvester deal over the line. It will give the firm a huge financial boost."
"I'm working on it Will. You know how difficult she is. But I'll draft up some new ideas this week and I'm confident that…"
"We're bringing someone else in." Will cut her off.
"You're taking me off the case?" Santana exclaimed.
"No, you've worked hard on this. It's still your case but we're running out of time and we need a fresh perspective. The Boston office are sending over one of their best associates. The two of you will work on the case together and have a pitch drawn up by the end of next week."
This couldn't be happening. This case was Santana's chance to show what she could do. This new associate could mess everything up and blow her chance at promotion.
"Will please" Santana pleaded "Just give me a few more days to speak with Sylvester and I promise-'
"It's out of my hands Santana. The new girl is arriving today. In fact, she should be here any minute."
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Will and Santana both turned as the blonde from the elevator stepped into the office.
The Latina's jaw nearly hit the floor as the other woman fixed her with a steely glare.
"Hi, my name is Brittany Pierce. I'm the new associate."