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Chapter 11

As soon as they stepped into the shop Malcolm remembered why it had been a bad idea to come. He should have given Clara his credit card and spared himself the trouble but now that he was inside this world of glitter and satin he didn't see himself leaving it any time soon.

"Okay," he said and pointed around the room, "Pick a dress and let's go."

Clara turned around and gawked at him in disbelief. "Pick a dress and let's go? Malcolm, two of these cost as much as my entire wardrobe combined!"

He rolled his eyes at her. "I told you money wasn't an issue. It's more important that you don't embarrass me, so just fucking pick one."

"No," Clara said defensively, "Well, I'll pick one, yes, but that's going to take a moment. At least I'll have to try some of them on."

Malcolm took a deep breath. Technically he had brought this on himself, so he couldn't quite complain about it now. "Okay, fine, but try to make it quick, yes?"

Clara granted him a smile before she rushed off to the first rack filled with dark, glittering dresses. Malcolm watched her examine the clothes for a while before she moved on to the next rack and finally pulled out one of the dresses, holding it up for him.

"What do you think?" she asked.

That Clara would look utterly stunning in it, that was what he thought, but Malcolm kept his mouth firmly shut and instead shrugged. "You're asking the wrong person here, sweetheart. I'm not the party's fucking fashion adviser."

Clara threw him a dirty glance before she laid the dress over her arm and started carrying it around the shop, selecting some other items as she went along. He had never gone shopping with a woman in his entire life and Malcolm vowed to make this first time the last as well. He was bored after less than five minutes and suddenly felt very grateful that menswear seemed so much simpler to pick out. You could never go wrong with a nice suit, but watching Clara select one dress and immediately discard another he realized that apparently there were a lot of ways you could go wrong with women's clothes.

Once Clara had retreated into the changing rooms a friendly shop assistant walked by and offered him a cup of tea or coffee while he waited, something that Malcolm declined. He didn't plan on staying as long as it took to finish a cup of tea.

"How much longer is this going to take?" he asked her impatiently through the closed curtain.

"Just a moment," Clara called out to him in response and just a few seconds later the curtain opened. "What do you think?"

When Malcolm thought he had been doing well after his very unexpected one night stand with Clara at his office, he had done well only up until this point. Now he couldn't help but stare. The dress was nothing special whatsoever, in fact, it was pretty plain, but the way the tight fabric clung to her body instantly had his thoughts racing. It was just the sort of dress that was made to be torn off a woman and he was imagining doing that right now, whether he wanted to think about it or not. With her legs so clearly on display he remembered how it had felt to touch them, to part them with his hands, to shove her skirt up. He was just a man, he couldn't help it.

"You, erm, you should take it," he suggested, spluttering a little and hoping that Clara wouldn't notice. Quickly he averted his eyes and brought them back to her face. "Looks good on you."

Clara chuckled in response. "You just want to get the fuck out of here, am I right?"

"Right," Malcolm breathed and smiled. Clara hadn't noticed. She just thought he was eager to leave. "No, let's pay for the thing and head to the cleaners."

When Clara closed the curtain again Malcolm took a deep breath. He would survive the charity event somehow. Once was more than enough, Clara was still his intern and this sort of event certainly wasn't the right place for that kind of action.

hr

In her 28 years Clara was fairly certain that she had come to know men quite a bit and if she had judged Malcolm's look even remotely right he was anything but over their little encounter in his office. The way he had looked at her in the changing room had made her think he was more than ready for a little repeat. And to be fair, so was she, but only if he stopped acting like a complete prick.

So Clara made an extra effort the next day when she got ready for the charity event, applied a light layer of make up and twisted her hair into a nice up-do before they both headed out in a taxi. Clara hated to admit that he looked very dashing as well in his suit and bow tie and she quickly looked away before he caught her staring. She wanted to be the one to turn his head, not the other way around, but Malcolm seemed determined not to take any notice of her tonight. Well, if that was the case, Clara would just have to find admiration elsewhere as she sure as hell wouldn't beg for his attention.

"Well, well, well, who do we have here?" Ollie Reeder greeted her with a big smile just two minutes after they had arrived at the event, "Still working for Malcolm Fucking Tucker?"

He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one of them to Clara, who thanked him with a nod and immediately went to take a sip.

"Yep," she confirmed, "Still working for him."

Ollie Reeder raised his eyebrows at her. "And?" he inquired curiously, "What's it like? Has he shouted at you yet?"

Clara gave a small shrug as she sipped her drink. "We have our quarrels but overall I can't complain."

Once more he smiled at her. "Well, I would like to thank Malcolm for bringing you tonight, but I don't think he would appreciate that. You really brighten up this dull room."

"Thank you," Clara replied sheepishly, staring down at her feet and hoping that Malcolm would take notice of someone else paying her compliments.

However that hope was soon destroyed when she could hear him shout across the room.

"Can't you fucking knobheads at DoSAC get anything even remotely right?!" Malcolm yelled at Glenn before he stormed off to the other side of the room, leaving the old man just a tiny bit smaller than he had appeared before.

"Well, he seems to be in a good mood today," Ollie said dryly, "Five minutes and he has only shouted once.

Clara let her gaze wander around the room and soon found Malcolm looking right back at her, only to avert his eyes when she caught him.

"What's your secret, Clara?"

She gulped and stared back at Ollie. Oh dear, did he know what had gone on between her and Malcolm? "My secret?"

"Yeah, how come he doesn't shout at you?"

Clara breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. Ollie knew nothing. "Oh, erm, well," she stammered, "I guess he knows I will not hesitate to shout back."

"Or pin signs on his back," he chuckled, "Come on, Clara Oswald, let's get another drink. We're going to need all the alcohol we can get before they start with the speeches."

When Ollie Reeder started leading her in the direction of the bar Clara quickly caught another glance from Malcolm and it was as sinister as it could get. She remember the first time he had caught her talking to Ollie and how he had reacted back then and now Clara was quite sure that his reaction was something close to jealousy. Good. He should be jealous and Clara was determined to make him even more so before the evening was over.