Rotti Largo's desk was both the most desired and the most feared desk in the secretarial world - which, to be fair, was a pretty small world. The same could be said for any of the Largos, really. Luigi's was a known death sentence, with his turnover rate breaking new and terrible records on the daily. Pavi's wasn't much better, especially for those unlucky enough to have a face that he found pleasing in some way or another. Amber's was deceptively dangerous too, come to think of it, not because you could find yourself at the end of a thrashing (but just a verbal one, in her case) but because it was all too easy to find yourself being blamed for her escapades. There was no keeping that girl on track and in line, but Mr Largo still had no problem with shooting the messenger.
No, it spoke volumes about his children that Rotti Largo himself was actually the safest bet. So long as you kept your head down, didn't hear anything, didn't see anything, and did the work well, you might just be fine. Might. And that was exactly what Zena intended to do. After all, the Largo patriarch was nothing if not a realist — the pay reflected the danger of the position, or else nobody would take it. If she stuck it out for a few months and kept her head down, she'd make enough to get the hell off of this god forsaken island. Last she'd heard, there were a few islands up north that weren't quite so…hazardous. Of course, passage to them cost an arm and a leg - not literally, for once - so it would take a bit of time.
To accomplish this epic feat of surviving Rotti Largo's desk, she had one basic rule - be efficient, but be unnoticable. Never give them a reason to complain (which was a hell of a challenge in itself as far as all four Largos were concerned), but don't give them a reason to praise, either. One woman who'd once sat where she now did found herself in the unfortunate position of being the object of Luigi's affections. After a week or two, he stabbed her to death just because he grew sick of thinking about her all the time. Thankfully, he didn't seem much interested in Zena. It was just unfortunate that by the time she thought of a second very good rule, it was much too late - that rule being not to get complacent.
While Mr Largo's office was situated on the uppermost floor of the GeneCo building, her office was not - instead, hers was on the second highest floor. The main elevator in the building opened into her office, which everybody then had to walk through in order to reach the separate private elevator that led to Mr Largo's. It stopped anybody from bypassing his secretary to get to him, while also not having her right outside his door to hear anything and everything that went on behind closed doors. It was a blessing, really, for it meant she didn't have to worry…as much…about getting shot just because there was a vague chance of her overhearing something she shouldn't have.
Usually the three Largo heirs would just stroll on past her desk as though she wasn't even there, leaving her to alert her boss when they were already on their way up. Thankfully she hadn't been penalised for that just yet - at least he knew his kids well enough to know there wasn't really much she could do about that. It worked out well for her, too, for fewer interactions meant less of a chance of pissing them off.
In hindsight, she would blame her good mood for what happened that day. The doors to the elevator slid open to reveal Mr Largo's middle child, mirror in hand as usual…although this time he wasn't flanked by Genterns, or any woman for that matter, which was a first for him. It was habit, it had to be because it was habit, for Zena looked up, their eyes met, and she did something incredibly stupid. She smiled. It was a small, tight-lipped smile, but a smile nonetheless. It froze on her lips the moment it hit them, though, and when Pavi Largo tilted his head and slowly lowered his mirror, her heart sank down into her stupid pointy-toed heels. Oh, no.
Lowering her gaze quickly, she wiped the smile from her face and pressed a button on her intercom.
"Mr Largo is here to see you, er, Mr Largo."
"Which one?" Replied her employer's entirely unamused voice almost immediately.
Black leather dress shoes stepped into the edge of her vision right in front of her desk, polished to such a high shine that she could almost see her own dread-filled expression in them.
"Paviche," she replied, having to force some semblance of calm into her voice.
Mr Largo sighed "Send him up."
Folding her hands in her lap, Zena finally dragged her eyes up to meet Pavi's, who stared at her unblinkingly from behind the face he wore - that of a young woman, by the look of it. Usually with the Largo children, she looked at their foreheads rather than directly in their eyes, but with Pavi she was worried that doing so would only bring forth her discomfort, so she was left with little choice.
He had to have heard his father - there was no way he didn't, but instead he remained standing before her desk. And then he smirked (it as eerie how the lips of the face moved perfectly with his), and leaned forward.
"You know you may call me Pavi, sì?"
Zena offered a smile again, this one nowhere near as cheery as the last, before nodding simply.
"Mr Largo will see you now."
His head tilted.
"…Pavi," she finished.
He smiled in approval, but there was little warmth to it. The phrase the cat that ate the canary came to mind.
"You look-a familiar, signora," he leaned fully on her desk now, his elbows settling on her paperwork so there was no hope of even pretending to be distracted by her duties.
It wasn't a question, but it was phrased like one.
"This is my fourth month working here, Mr Largo," she replied.
Pavi tutted in disapproval, and she quickly corrected herself.
"This is my fourth month working here, Pavi."
He gave a chuckle - whether it was because he was trying to be friendly, or out of sheer surprise that she'd managed to last so long - his eyes never once leaving hers before he went to speak again.
"I find it hard to believe that I did not notice-"
"Pavi," his father's voice all but growled over the intercom, apparently automatically knowing just what was keeping his son.
Although it probably helped that he could easily see that the elevator hadn't even begun moving yet. Bowing his head in an exaggerated show of sorrow and disappointment, Pavi sighed before all but seizing one of her hands from her lap and pressing the back of it to his lips. Or, well, the lips he'd stolen. Zena thanked any higher powers out there that she didn't jump, despite the way the suddenness of the gesture triggered her damn fight or flight responses. The face…wasn't as cold, nor as off-putting, as she expected it to be. Huh.
"Until later, bella."
Was it a promise or a threat? Zena could do little but nod - it didn't matter, however, for his attention quickly flitted back to his hand mirror almost as soon as he released her hand before he sauntered over to the elevator to his father's office.
One thing was certain. She would conveniently be on her lunch break before he returned.
A/N: I know this fandom isn't very active, but I saw Repo! for the first time in years last week, and my teenage crush on Pavi resurfaced almost immediately so…here we are. No regrets! I'm hoping that future chapters will usually be longer than this one, but Pavi is a hell of a character to write so I'm just gaining my bearings at the moment. This one will probably be quite a bit darker than my other fics if you've read those because, well, Pavi. Title comes from a The Sisters of Mercy song.