Run | Elizabeth Olsen

the meet.

APRIL THIRTEENTH | 2015

Ashton Kutcher didn't fold to just anyone. His schedule was tight, even without any current film projects. His days were planned, his routine was strict, and his assistant only carved out time for the highest priority events and meetings. Of course, she tried her best to make everything work, but with a man like Ashton as her boss, that wasn't always possible.

"Sir." Isabella Booker knocked on a heavy oak door, dressed in black slacks and a soft pink button down shirt. The collar was tight and uncomfortable around her neck, the bust was so skintight that the outline of her nude bra was visible even in the darkest lighting, but it was an Ashton approved outfit, and there was no room for her to argue about it.

"I told you not to bother me." His voice was muffled but abrasive and harsh, cutting against her skin as she sighed and knocked again. They didn't have time to fool around, Ashton had thrown a premiere party onto his schedule at the last minute, and he still needed to meet with business partners who'd been angrily messaging his poor assistant for weeks.

Isabella heard fumbling from somewhere deep in the office, no doubt his wife fumbling to put her clothes back on now that Isabella really wasn't going away. Mila left the office with a blush on her cheeks, mumbling an embarrassed greeting to the woman her husband hired seven months ago.

"What?" Ashton growled, fixing his trousers that were unbuttoned and wrinkled around the thighs.

"Sorry for the interruption," Isabella dipped her head low, cheeks flushing at the sight of her boss in such a disheveled state. "You have a meeting, now. If you still want to make the premiere I've given you half an hour."

"I don't pay you to rush me or interrupt my time with my wife." Ashton muttered beneath his breath, his shoulder knocking against Isabella's as he stormed out of the office, heading for the staircase.

"U-Um, the meetings on your laptop." She called Ashton back, steeling up her posture as she prepared to be barreled into again. As she expects, his shoulder digs into a bruise on her back as he walks back into the office, hardly noticing how Isabella flinches on her feet and digs her teeth into her bottom lip. "It shouldn't take anymore then fifteen minutes. I've laid out the outfit you picked, it's waiting on your bed. Is Mila still coming?"

Ashton doesn't even acknowledge her, already smiling at his business partners and fixing the audio. Isabella sighs, closing the office door, going to seek out Mila. Unlike Ashton, Mila has never been anything but kind.

She finds Mila curled up in the living room with a novel, her hair in a bun and reading glasses over her nose. The sight of her alone is enough indication that she's not going tonight, but she knows Ashton won't take her word for it, she needs Mila to say it for herself.

"Mrs. Kutcher, I apologize for the interruption, Mr. Kutcher plans to leave for the premiere within the next hour. Are you still planning to attend with him?" Isabella asks, smiling at Mila who settles deeper into the corner of the couch with an apologetic grimace on her face.

"I'm going to hang back tonight." Mila shakes her head, "Is that how you're going?" Mila frowns, looking at Isabella's outfit. Slacks so tight the waistline digs into her hips, top so sheer it leaves nothing to the imagination. Mila's had to bite her own tongue on multiple occasions regarding the state of the young woman, knowing it's her husbands doing and not her own.

"Um, yes? This is how Mr. Kutcher requested I dress." Isabella frowned. She hated these slacks and these sheer tops, but she'd been wearing them for the last six months to every event and junket they attended. Nobody had ever asked her such a silly question.