The remainder of the day goes by without a hindrance. Clients come and go as I sit at my desk attempting to perfect the following week's itinerary and occasionally fetch documents for Mason. Our first meeting together is scheduled to take place with a potential client at 11 a.m. on Monday and I can already feel an all too familiar ache forming between my shoulder blades.

My phone rings, pulling me from my work and I immediately press down on the receiver when I see Mason's extension flashing on the screen.

"Yes Mr. Warfield?"

"I'm stepping out. Please have my car ready."

"Right away, sir."

I peer over at Roy who immediately calls the first floor to have Mason's car brought out. He seems incredibly pleased with himself once he takes care of the task and seconds later Mason emerges from his office.

"Walk with me Ms. Kepner. There are things we need to discuss."

I don't bother looking up from my desk. "I thought you didn't find my clothing seemly enough to be seen in public with."

A string of curse words arises in my brain and I turn to see his jaw clenched before instructing me to gather my things and follow him out.

We make our way toward the elevator and he gently presses his hand on the small of my back inviting me to step in once the doors open. His index finger presses down on the button for the lobby and an uneasy feeling spreads throughout my body but I ignore it, unsure of what to make of it.

"If you're going to fire me, you might as well do it now," I say turning to face him as I clutch my coat in front of me. "I'm not equipped for this."

He remains quiet for at least six floors with his hands in his pockets before addressing me.

"My grandfather warned me about you when he filled me in on the company's personnel. He also said that you were the best assistant he ever had under his employment and that I'd be a fool to get rid of you simply because you have a minor problem with authority. Do not make me regret keeping you on as my assistant, Ms. Kepner. You may have properly fulfilled your duties to my grandfather but you have yet to efficaciously fulfill mine."

I bite down on the inside of my cheek in order to keep myself from saying something I might regret as the elevator whirrs. I take notice of the smell of his cologne, it is incredibly inviting simply because I have never smelled anything like it and somehow it instigates images in my brain of cold bark laced with notes of menthol and tobacco.

"I'll do better, Mr. Warfield," I utter simply because of his grandfather's conviction in my ability to do the job.

Mason presses the emergency button causing the elevator to come to an abrupt halt and I instinctively reach for the metal, bar handle along the rear wall.

"For fuck's same Ms. Kepner I prefer Mason. How many times must I repeat myself?"

I form my hands into fists beneath the fabric of my coat. "What difference does it make what I call you? I'm just trying to do my job."

He chuckles and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Does the job include spitting out snide remarks and having a piss-poor attitude? If it does, remind me to have you make some adjustments to the job description."

He presses the emergency button once more and we begin moving again. I'm fully aware of the fact that I'm acting out of line but I am simply too proud, a personal trait that I have yet to attempt to obliterate.

We ride down in silence again but I can feel his eyes on me. The air inside the elevator feels thicker than usual and we both awkwardly turn away whenever we catch the other staring. His jaw is already showing signs of a five o'clock shadow and I can't deny that he looks good with a little scruff. He is incredibly, undeniably a beautiful instance of a man.

Charlie greets us when we step out of the elevator and I grow hyperaware of the fact that every woman inside the lobby – even a couple of men – have their eyes fixated on Mason as we exit the building. He finds that his vehicle is already parked out on the curb, ready and waiting for him to climb in.

He pulls out a pair of aviator sunglasses from the inside of his coat and casually slides them on as he rounds the front of his royal blue Maserati before standing beside the driver's side of the vehicle and gazing at me.

"Adjust your attitude Ms. Kepner or don't bother returning to my company on Monday. That is all," he threatens before climbing into the car.

With a heavy foot, he drives way from the curb and speeds off leaving me to wonder if I am free to leave for the day.

I decide to take my chances and dig into my purse for my cell phone in order to inform Roy that I am taking off. He quickly assures me that he has everything under control and I begin making my way to the bus stop in order to head home.

*

"Keegan?"

It's six o'clock by the time I arrive home since there had been a delay with my bus when a woman went into labor in the middle of the route.

I throw my bag on the small chair situated in the hallway after inserting my phone into the flimsy, breast pocket of my stained blouse and make my way into the kitchen taking notice of the fact that the electricity was back on. I find Laurel humming to herself while pouring a revolting, orange concoction into a tall glass before she catches me staring at her. The kitchen is saturated with the smell of grass and carrots and she is wearing her usual gym attire with an overly tight bun that emphasizes her light, down-turned eyes and large, puckered lips.

"Hi, Addison! How are you today? How was work?"

Lacking the mood to deal with her fake, sprightly attitude, I simply mutter that it was fine before reaching into one of the cabinets for a packet of chocolate chip cookies.

"Do you want some?" she asks referring to the juice she had just prepared.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust before violently shaking my head. There were ways to juice fruits and vegetables in a way that taste flavorsome. Unfortunately, Laurel had yet to discover them.

"You should really think about adopting a healthier lifestyle like Keegan has. You'd feel much more energized and those bags underneath your eyes, you know the ones below your crow's feet, might vanish if you just detox a little. Those pastries are just going to go straight to your behind."

"They'll do just fine there," I reply resisting the urge to smack her.

She eyes me with astonishment and I want to break out in laughter but refrain from doing so.

"Where's Keegan?" I ask through a mouthful of food.

"Why do you want to know where my boyfriend is? Is there something going on between you two that I don't know about?" she teases with a large smile on her face that is downright scary while waving her index finger at me.

I can't quite discern if she is joking or not so I simply blink at her until she clarifies that she is in fact, joking.

"He's – "

"Hey," Keegan cuts in as he makes his way into the kitchen.

He'd changed from what he was wearing this morning and I gaze at the way his shirt clings to his chest as he makes a beeline for the glass of juice that Laurel has set out him. He throws it back in large gulps – despite how disgusting it looks – and it's evident to me that he is trying to spare Laurel's feelings.

"How was your day?" he asks setting the glass down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Terrible. My new boss is an even bigger dick than yours," I reply bitterly.

"Well one would expect him to be. He's running a multi-billion dollar company; mine just manages repairs on industrial machines. If you ask me, your old boss was going to run his own company into the ground soon. He was too fucking lenient. "

I rub my hands together in order to rid them of any cookie crumbs and climb onto the kitchen counter and cross my legs.

"They sell the world's leading computer software technology in the world. The company would've been fine. In fact, it practically runs itself. I love Mr. Warfield. He's a kind and decent man because he knows what it's like to start from scratch, to build something out of nothing and his grandson is going to let the integrity of that go to hell. I won't be surprised if he turns out to be the company's demise."

I watch Keegan go into the refrigerator in order to grab a beer. Laurel glares at him but he simply disregards her and twists the top off.

"You want to know what I think? – he points the neck of his beer at me – "I think this new boss of yours isn't as cuddly as the last and you're having your usual issues with people telling you what to do."

"Fuck off, Keegan," I counter.

Laurel asks me to watch my language while Keegan breaks out in laughter and I hop off of the counter and make my way into my bedroom. Once inside, I peer around in short glances, taking in the sight of concert and movie tickets plastered messily on the walls along with polaroids of my mother, Andrew and Keegan before tossing my shoes off. I slip out of my clothes before removing my makeup and rummage through my drawers for some fresh garments and find an old pair of tattered shorts and a fitted, white t-shirt and throw them both on.

I take the opportunity to search through my closet to see if I can find anything that is even remotely suitable for work. I stumble upon a couple of blouses and slacks that I had yet to wear the shit out of and figure that that if taken to the dry cleaners, might actually look decent but I feared that they would still not live up to Mason Warfield's standards.

Yawning, I take a seat on the edge of my bed and grab my laptop - courtesy of Warfield Holdings – in order to check my bank account. I log on and quickly slam the computer shut when the balance in my account reflects a little over fifty-dollars compelling me to quickly dismiss the idea of shopping for new clothes.

Al though I felt confident in my professional skills and abilities, I stuck out like a sore thumb at the office. Everyday, everyone was regularly dressed in designer clothing from head to toe – including Roy and Stacey – and work simply because they're waiting to gain access to their trust funds. I on the other hand, am putting myself through school and paying rent on a ridiculously expensive, shitty loft along with half of the bills that come with it. My salary is crap since it isn't a particularly difficult job, just a time consuming one and so I can't even afford to purchase my own vehicle.

There is a knock at the door and I look up from the floor to see Keegan standing in the doorway.

"Where's Laurel?" I ask sliding rearward on bed before throwing myself against the headboard.

Keegan climbs into bed with me and drapes his arm across his chest as he lies on his back. "She left. She said she wanted to put in an extra work out today."

Looking down at him, I shake my head in disapproval. "You know she was a problem right?"

He stares off at the ceiling before digging the heels of his palms into his teal eyes and rubbing them harshly. "I've tried to talk to her about it but she won't listen."

"Why are you with her? She is so not your type. She said I had crow's feet."

He turns to look up at me and I pick off a small piece of lint from his bold, dark brow. He looks a little pale – probably from exhaustion – and I can smell a hint of machinery fluid stemming from his skin and strangely, I do not mind it.

"You don't have crow's feet. What can I say? She gives good head."

I grab one of my pillows and gently smack him in the face. "You're such a brute."

He tosses the pillow aside and climbs on top of me and attempts to bite the side of my stomach. I begin flinging my arms and legs attempting to fight him off but instead he digs his fingers into my ribs causing me to throw my head and snort unattractively with laughter.

"When are you going to stop trying to fight me off?" he asks after pinning my arms above my head.

Our laughter fades and he looks into my eyes before licking his lips with a loaded expression on his face.

"You know I'm not one to give up easily, even if everything seems to be working against me."

He lets out a deep chuckle and climbs off of me. I shift to face him and he lifts his arm inviting me to lie on his shoulder. He feels warm and I relish the feel of his bicep on my cheek. His eyes seem to land on a picture of Andrew on my nightstand as he runs his fingers through my long, bronde strands stroking my temple in the process.

"I miss him. I can't believe it's been five years. I wonder what he'd be doing with his life right now."

I lift myself off of him and gather my hair on top of my head again since it'd fallen loose. "He'd probably be here, with us, struggling as well."

"I don't know. Andrew never talked about going to college."

I shrug before pulling at a lose thread on my shorts. I wasn't too keen on talking about my brother. I hated to think about the way that he had died, scared and completely alone.

Keegan reaches for me and begins rubbing small circles between my shoulder blades and I close my eyes thoroughly enjoying it .

"Are you hungry? We can order in some Chinese."

"Actually, I'm in the mood for pizza – spinach Alfredo," I reply before flashing him my teeth in order to ease the sting of rejection to his suggestion.

"I swear woman, where the fuck do you store it all?" he asks rising from my bed. "You eat like shit."

"As if Chinese is any healthier. You want to stuff your face with a preposterous amount of salt?"

He runs his hand through his hair and his brown strands quickly return to their previous, messy state. "At least I try to get in a couple of work outs in every week to level things out."

I pout. "I work out."

"Lifting your arm to pop Reese's pieces into your mouth does not constitute working out."

I grunt in annoyance before reaching for my phone when it pinges. "Just go, go order the pizza. You know you want it. Stop letting Laurel dictate what you can eat or drink. It's irrational."

He flips me off before pulling his phone out of his pocket and exiting my bedroom.

*

"So tell me more about this new boss of yours," Keegan asks over a mouthful of pizza before taking a drink from his beer bottle.

We'd plopped ourselves on the couch with the pizza box on the coffee table and I'd changed into a pair of pajama shorts with a lose waistband.

"Well, he's rude, condescending and extremely domineering. It's as if he's on a mission to make everyone's job a living hell and it was only his first day. He's young though, really young,"

"Entitled asshole," Keegan mutters.

"So entitled...oh and he wants everyone to call him Mason – that's his name – even reprimanded me for calling him by his surname and I noticed that he has this vein on his temple...it looked like it was going to burst when he got after me for calling him anything other than fucking Mason."

"Maybe he's trying to create an identity for himself, you know one that differs from his grandfather's."

I blink repeatedly at Keegan since that hadn't even occurred to me. "Do you think it's necessary though? He's I don't know, 30...32? And his grandfather's like 100."

Keegan shrugs before reaching for another slice of pizza. I stare at him, admiring his profile as he bites into his pizza and I smile to myself. He'd come a long way from the chubby, kid with glasses that he once was.

When he was younger, he was awkward, insecure and overweight. Now, he practically exuded confidence through his pores and had every reason to. He was incredibly charming, worked his ass off and possessed a great sense of humor and was actually unbelievably, extraordinarily hot. However, as far as he was concerned, he repulsed me. And in many ways he did simply because I knew too much about him which deterred me from seeking anything other than friendship with him.

He was my brother's best friend and wherever Andrew was, I thanked him everyday for introducing Keegan into my life. 

☓