Author's Note: I've actually had this finished for a few days but life got hectic and I didn't have a chance to proofread and post it till now. Hopefully it's worth the wait!
Part Two: No Strings Attached
A friend had told her long ago that when things went wrong: they tended to do so in a chain reaction.
Maleficent had often mocked this concept, but she was beginning to think that there was some merit to it nonetheless.
To say that she had experienced a week of hell was putting it lightly. And it was all Diaval Corbeau's fault –at least, that was what she kept telling herself.
Her biggest mistake was underestimating him: for thinking that his sloppy manners and devil-may-care attitude were for real. In fact, it was all a mask that hid keen intellect and cunning ambition.
He was good at his job. Perhaps a little too good.
Maleficent had always hated competition, and when that competition was wrapped in a package of boyish good-looks, an Irish lilt that made every woman in the vicinity melt, and a winning smile: well it just made her blood boil even more.
It wasn't just the fact that he was a good lawyer that irritated her though. It was that she couldn't be rid of him most of the time. She had no idea how he was doing it, but he must have employed some kind of spy to find out her daily routine. That would explain why he showed up and bought her coffee each morning.
Admittedly: she wasn't minding the free java so much.
What was most unnerving, however, was that despite his constant presence and his ability to walk circles around her in the courtroom: she found him charming.
Maleficent didn't trust charming people. Her ex had been charming, and all that had resulted in was a broken heart, a livid scar and expensive bouts of therapy.
Therefor: she was absolutely certain that Diaval was after something, she just couldn't figure out what.
It was because of this rampant curiosity about her rival was really up to that she had gotten herself into proverbial hot water.
Diaval's office was located above an Asian market. An odd choice for a highly esteemed divorce lawyer, but then; he tended to follow the beat of his own drum.
Maleficent had gone there with the purest of intentions: to schedule a meeting. She figured a proper face-to-face would level the playing field…and perhaps give her a chance to figure out his tells.
She had not expected the door to be open, or for his work space to resemble a pigsty.
She'd grabbed a stack of post-it notes to leave him a message, and succeeded in knocking over an entire stack of files.
After scrambling to pick them up and reorganize them, her day got worse when she heard his voice in the hall and, fearing being caught: she bolted.
Her exit had been highly undignified: flying down the stairs, making use of the stock room entrance to the market, grabbing a bag of chips on her way out and throwing money at the cashier, and then nearly getting run over by a taxi.
The next day, she'd discovered that not only had Diaval been the one to recommend her to speak at a rather prestigious conference: he had caught her entire escape on a camera disguised as a pen, and shown the entire hall the images.
She was very lucky that all he had gotten of her was from the back, but the shame of the moment was burned forever into her memory.
It would probably be a while before she was able to face him again, and she secretly hoped that she never would.
As usual: the universe worked with a sense of irony.
Friday nights were Maleficent's official "downtime", and she usually spent them curled up on the coach, indulging her sweet tooth and marathoning TV series saved up on her DVR.
She was half-way through her fudge sundae and three episodes into Game of Thrones when the phone rang.
She peered over at the caller-ID, not recognizing the number. The only people who had access to her personal line anyway were her secretary, her boss, and her god-daughter Aurora, so she figured it was just a telemarketer and let it ring.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when Diaval's raspy voice filtered over the answering machine.
"Hey, uh…it's Diaval. Diaval Corbeau. Listen: I feel like I owe you an apology for earlier—
She picked up before he could start groveling. "This is highly unprofessional! How'd you get this number?"
"Your secretary. And since we're off-hours I'm not considering myself a professional at the moment."
She could picture the smirk on his handsome face and narrowed her eyes. "I told her that she was only to give out this number in case of emergencies."
"Well, as it happens: it's an emergency. I seem to have made a right arse out of myself in regards to a rather stunning, smart, and wonderful woman and I'd like to make amends."
A flush began to spread along her skin at the compliment. "Look. This charming school-boy act of yours might work with the paralegal set, but I'll have you know—
"You think I'm charming?"
There was a beat of silence before she muttered: "Beside the point."
He chuckled heartily on the other end of the line.
She aimed a glare at the wall in front of her since she wasn't staring at his face. "The point is: that kind of stuff doesn't work on me."
"And what does? Fine wine and chocolate?"
"….Are you flirting with me?"
"Will it help in the apology? Because I can flirt up a storm with you, Mal, if it means that you'll actually look me in the eyes the next time we see each other."
Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed another word: "Did you just call me Mal?"
"Well you don't seem to respond that well to Miss Maurum. And Maleficent, while beautiful, is a bit of a mouthful."
"I..you…what do you want Mr. Corbeau?"
"Please, call me Diaval. And what I want…is to take you out for dinner. As a peace offering."
She nearly dropped the phone in shock.
After several minutes of silence, Diaval spoke again. "You still there?"
"Y-yeah…I'm here," she never stammered, but considering the fact that her heart was about to leap out of her chest she was lucky she could form coherent syllables.
"So…would you like to? Go out for dinner, I mean."
"Is this…" she swallowed, "a date?"
"If you want it to be. If not, it's just two colleagues sharing a meal and getting to know each other a little better. It's entirely a no-strings-attached kind of deal, I assure you."
She thought it over, and then responded. "And when would you want to have this "meal"?"
"Are you free tomorrow? I can get us reservations somewhere."
"Actually, I think I'd prefer something more casual."
"There's this excellent pizzeria a few blocks down from my apartment. I'll bring the food if you'll bring the wine?"
"Who's place?"
"It's up to you."
She paused, considering: "Yours. As long as it's not the same state as your office."
He laughed sharply. "I just got into town a week ago! I haven't had time to file things. And besides, you were the one who broke in."
"I didn't break in! Your door was open!"
"…that desperate to see me, huh?"
Once again she glared at the wall. "You, sir, were out of line when you recorded me leaving. I'm willing to overlook that if you stop with this ridiculous flirting."
"Can't make any promises when a beautiful woman's involved, but I'll try."
"…You think I'm beautiful?"
"I thought you were the most stunning creature I'd ever laid eyes upon."
The outright sincerity in his tone floored Maleficent, and once again she struggled to find the proper words.
Eventually she cleared her throat and spoke in a much softer voice. "What time did you want to meet?"
"Seven. Try to wear something less…severe-looking. Don't get me wrong, the sexy librarian look is great, but I'd like to see you let your hair down a little."
She glanced down at herself, currently clad in yoga pants and a blue tee-shirt, with a bowl of melted ice cream still in one hand and her hair damp from a shower and pulled into a messy ponytail. "I'll…see what I can do."
She was sure there was a grin on his face by this point. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow then."
"All right, good night."
"Good night."
With that, the conversation was over and she stared blankly at the tv-screen that was now playing the end credits for the episode she had missed entirely.
The second she finally came to the realization that she had made a date with her competitor, she grabbed the phone again and dialed Aurora's number.
"Hey. Feel like a shopping trip tomorrow?"
"Absolutely god-mother! What's the occasion?"
"Believe it or not…I think I have a date."
She had to hold the phone away from her ear because her god daughter's squealing was loud enough to wake the surrounding neighborhood…and quite possibly the dead.