Ana

I stumbled on another piece of clothing on my bedroom floor, groaning as I hit my toe on the bedside table and let out a curse. My room was currently drowning in a sea of clothes. When was the last fucking time that I actually bought normal office wear? My interview was in an hour and I still wasn't dressed!

I held the cigarette at the tip of my fingers and placed it on my lips, taking in a long drag, trying to calm my nerves. I blew out the smoke and closed my eyes and sighed in frustration.

I finally noticed a white piece of fabric hanging at the edge of the wooden structure. I raced to my wardrobe and put out the cigarette in the ashtray on my bedside table. I took the shirt from the hanger out and noticed that it was just what I needed. "Thank fuck." I sighed. Suddenly, it hit me that I wasn't wearing a bra. Fuck. I looked at my room hopelessly, magicly wanting it to clean itself and get the bras back from laundry. I checked my phone for the time, and boy was I late.

I looked down at my boobs. Eh, they aren't that big anyway, I shrugged and hastily put the shirt on, pairing it with black pants and a black blazer.

I studied my hair in the mirror, which didn't need much other than some brushing. I put on some perfume and a little eyeliner and some lip balm. I blew out a breath looking at the mirror, picked up my bag and went out the door.

I rushed down the stairs, hoping that maybe a croissant was left from breakfast. I reached downstairs and skimmed through the kitchen, searching for something light to eat. I froze when my eyes fell on the patio.

Chloe, mum and dad were sitting around the kitchen patio which has a beautiful view into our huge garden, food filled on their table, laughing and talking like the closest and happiest family in the whole world.

My heart ached as my throat clogged up when all the emotions surged through me and my face fell.

They were the perfect family, the family that loved each other, had fun together, laughed together, they were happy.

Time seemed to freeze when my father looked my way, his ocean eyes, way too similar to my own, looked straight at me.

Too many unspoken words. Too many complications and too much drama, that's what I had with my father. I don't remember the last time I had an actual conversation with him. Well, it's not that we talked that much, but still.

I held my stare, he held his. I have no idea what we were trying to prove here, but we made no move to look away, thinking of it as a sign of retreat.

The clock on the wall above ticked, making me instantly aware of how late I was. Even then, I calmly turned away from my father. His burning gaze imprinted on my back.

I let out a deep sigh as soon as I shut the car door. Resting my head on the seat, but really wanting nothing more than some cocaine. Squeezing my eyes, I turned on the ignition, already working on excuses for my impossibly terrible time management skills.

◂♚▸

I was panting by the time I pushed open the door of the small institution. A pretty looking lady sat on the front desk, as I approached her with a confident smile, clutching my laptop bag tightly. "Hi. I applied for a job here, you called me here for an interview?"

She looked up at me, peeking at me through her cat eyes glasses and assessed me then smiled. "Hey, could you please tell me your full name?"

"Anastasia Laurent?" I said tentatively looking around the place, it was nice. Kids lurked around the small lobby, chatting with each other. I saw two or three people walking around the classes who I guessed worked here as well. Working here won't be bad at all.

"Anastasia, yes, you do have an appointment here today. But I think you're aware of the fact that you're late." She said to me, pity almost dripping from her voice. I wonder why?

Flustered, I played with my fingers . "Um, yeah, actually a thing came up. I'm sorry."

She shaked her head at me. "Oh Anastasia, don't apologize to me, I don't mind. But my boss...." She struggled to find words. "He's a bit tough." She finished.

How bad could he be? I've dealt with Satan himself in the form of a gorgeous prince, god or whatever that he was.

◂♚▸

Well fuck.

Hernan Maynard, looked at me with a deadly look on his face as soon as I knocked on the door and peeped into his office. He sat in a shirt and pants, hands tangled with each other as if he was thinking of some plan to instantly fire me after hiring me, or just thinking about not even going through with this interview.

He glared at me as I gulped, intimidated.

I composed myself and gave him my jaw dropping smile, he just blinked. "Can I come in?" I said expectantly. "Did I tell you to come in?" He snarked back.

Don't you dare snap at him Ana, you need this freakin job! I said to myself.

"Well, Sir, I don't think it would be beneficial to either of us if I just stood here. I'm sorry for being late, a problem came up." I said in a professional voice.

He scanned me from head to toe. "Well, you did seem to be in a hurry as I can clearly see your nipples through your desk. Please wear proper clothing, there are kids coming here." He didn't even so much as look at my nipples, and continued staring at the file in his hands.

I didn't even acknowledge his comment about my boobs and entered his office anyway.

"I believe we need to start over." I smiled at him. "I am Anastasia Laurent. I studied here at the STL University for almost three years and got my PG Level degree of graphic designing and I just got into Waterford Conservator for my M.A."

I extended my hand to him, expecting a handshake. Yeah, he didn't respond to that. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. So I was a little late, don't be such a sour baby and take my fucking interview old man!

"I don't think you're capable of teaching children and nurturing them to get a career in this field. Give me a good reason to hire you." No emotion in his tone.

My fists clenched and in frustration.

Ana, no! You need this!

"And why do you think that?" I jutted out my chin at him in question. "Because I think that punctuality is important for letting the art flow and you clearly lack that, you need discipline to teach someone."

Furrowing my eyebrows, I answered him. "With all due respect Sir, art is about creativity, punctuality and discipline doesn't help in creating things and designs. I believe that having an open imagination helps."

He clearly seemed offended by my statement and let out a snark reply. "I don't think so Ms. Laurent. I run an institution that provides graphic designers to companies and teaches kids to help take a career path in this field. I myself am one of the finest out there. I am the best in all of St. Loudéac, and I do all my work on time and strategically. Look where that got me." He motioned at the

"But sir —" I protested. Clearly we have very different beliefs. I don't even know how such a simple interview went downhill so fast.

"Miss Laurent." He started calmly, sitting up straight in his chair, in a tense posture. "You have been here two minutes and have already managed to push my buttons. I would appreciate it if you left." He said in a clipped tone, perking up his glasses.

My ego is too high to beg him for this job so I just sighed and left.

I stepped out of Heyman's office and came face to face with the desk lady. I was expecting a pitiful expression from her side, but she looked slightly... amused? I squinted my eyebrows and approached her. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "No, no. It's just that you're one of the rare people who came out of his office not crying, much less with their head held high. Believe me when I say he'll call you back." She smiled at me. I doubt that sweet lady.

"Thank you." I said. As soon as I stepped out of the building, I bumped into a tall figure, standing by my car.

I looked up to see the biggest pain in my ass in front of me. I sighed, not really having the energy to argue with him. I crossed my hands and stared at him, tapping my foot on the pavement.

I couldn't decipher what he wanted, or what he was thinking since his eyes were covered by a dark pair of sunglasses.

"You're blocking the way, princess." I sassed him. I knew he was rolling his eyes at me. "You're coming with me."

He attached his hand firmly to my arm and dragged me roughly to his Ashton Martin, parked a few spaces away from mine.

"Hey! Stop." I struggled against his grip, but he was having none of it, as he pushed me into his car and took his own seat hastily. He buckled my belt and locked the doors, starting the car before I could even process what happened.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned towards him with a letha expression on my face. He did not seem fazed at all as he drove by the streets to god knows where. This fucker is going to kidnap me isn't he?

"Who the fuck told you I was here anyways?" I screamed at him. "My cousin."

Damien.

"That fucking brat." I swore, cussing at my best friend.

"That doesn't explain why you're kidnapping me like a caveman." I flailed my hands around at him, glaring at him. If I had a dollar for everytime this man angered me, I would've earned so much.

"I thought I was a princess." He smirked at me, his eyes twinkling through his glasses.

This man —

I lunged at him, and he abruptly swerved the car, almost crashing us into the trees along the road, as I practically landed on top of him. "Holy fuck lady." He stared at me. "What did you even expect?! You dragged me into a car taking me to god knows where and you thought I would stay calm!"

Maybe I was overreacting a little, but I couldn't stop now. He'll think I'm weak.

Although I looked at him, and his attention wasn't at what I said at all.

Men are unbelievable. "Take your eyes off my boobs before I gauge them out." I said with a blank face. It's not my fault that I'm comfortable in my body.

He cleared his throat and looked at the road again.

"I need to talk to you." I opened my mouth to protest. "Before you complain, just hear me out, once? Please." He looked at me.

I couldn't say no.

So I calmed myself down and nodded my head slightly. Instantly, his tense posture relaxed.

"We're getting food first." I said and he obeyed me.

◂♚▸

I took a bite out of my giant Chipotle burrito, smearing sauce all over my face. Nate looked at me silently, eating a bite from his bowl. I didn't pay him any attention as I savoured the taste.

"How can anyone even eat a Chipotle burrito, those are like the biggest invitation for making a mess of food."

I blinked at him. "Does it hurt?" I asked him, licking the sauce off my fingers. "What?" He questioned "That stick that's so far up your ass. Jesus, princess, you have to loosen up a little." I teased him.

Although he probably was right. I mean halfway through the meal, I was pretty sure my face was covered in sauces and some stains were on my white shirt. I looked around his dashboards to find some paper napkins, since the guy who worked there forgot to give us some. Nate noticed me shuffling and instantly let out a 'No' as I opened his dashboard in front of me.

My questioning gaze slid to him, as I held up the giant pack of sour patches in my hands. My amusement right now was skyrocketing.

"What's this?" I smirked teasingly. "My comfort food." He grumbled, clearly not happy with me finding these. I mean there were two more small ones in the compact space.

"Sour patches? Seriously?" He snatched the packet away from my hands. "Stop fuckiing judging me."

"Of course I'm judging you. You have a sour patch addiction." I grinned cheekily. "No I don't." His stance was defensive. I decided to pull his legs a little. "Oh yeah, so if I take one packet from here, you wouldn't mind right?"

This day actually turned out well after all. I found Satan's weakness.

His eyes went wide and he took the packets out of the dashboard and threw them at the back. I laughed out loud. He just gave me the side eye.

We finished the rest of our food in silence, until I turned to him, "I know what you want to talk to me about Nate. What I don't know is, why me?"

He looked at me, a storm in his grey eyes. "Ana, there's something about you. Maybe the fact that I think my father would've liked you, or maybe that I feel comfortable with you. But there's something. The paparazzi won't bother us anymore, I've made sure of that. You seem to know this city better than anyone, so I request you to help me."

I pondered over it.

"You do things my way Nate, no caveman behaviour, no controlling and demanding me to do things. If you want my help, you do it my way or else I'm out. And my family can't know, and you have to help me get a job to earn money."

"That's a very short list isn't it?" He rubbed his jaw, sarcasm laced in his voice. I just shrugged at him.

"Deal."

◂♚▸