Marry me

Chapter Eleven.

"Kate," I said, dead in my tracks. And I felt it. The feeling of deja vu. It wasn't like this had happened before. It was the chill that swept through my bones that made me feel like that. I felt like I was back at Mr. Trevelyan's office –even though the scenery was different– I felt... intimidated –and I hadn't even seen him yet.

I wasn't scared of what he'll do or say when he sees me. Hell, I wasn't even scared that there was a high –very very high– chance that he'll fire me, for not going to work (when he obviously should have days ago). I was scared of what he came here for. He came for business. To crack a deal, like the businessman that he was. A deal that could change the whole story–

"Huh?"

"Kate, my boss is here," I said, still looking at the Range Rover in front of our apartment. I didn't think, Kate had noticed. Yet.

"Boss? Shit! Do you mean Ivan Trevelyan?" She asked, her voice suddenly pitched higher –possibly an octave higher?–

I nodded and she squealed a high pitched squeal. Damn, my ears. Trust me when I say that this isn't like a romance novel, where the good girls don't squeal/fan-girl like the classic romance bitches.

This is real life.

Right?

"But where is he?" she said looking around and my subconscious palmed her face and said, Look at your bestie!

She stopped looking around and she stared at me, then she followed my eyes and spotted the Range Rover.

"Shut the fuck up! Is that his car?" She asked and I shrugged. "Gosh Belle, he's in our apartment." She squealed again. "How do I look? Sweaty? Flushed? Tired? Worked out?" She ranted while I kept my eyes fixed on the black Range Rover sitting in front of my apartment.

"Let's go," she said pulling me to the apartment.

"Wait." I hesitated. "You wait, I'll go."

"But–"

"No," I said, looking deep into her brown eyes that looked hazel under the street lights. "Kate please."

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "Babe, are you okay? Do I need to get my boxing gloves-?"

I let out a small laugh. "It's fine. I'm fine. Just a few minutes. I'll be back."

"Fine." She took a step back. "But any more than three minutes and I'm bursting into that apartment."

.

I entered the apartment and saw my boss on the couch looking as formal as ever. Wrong. He was in casual outfits –I decided not to linger my gaze on his clothes– and the TV remote was in his hands, as he flicked the TV channels like he was bored.

 I pushed the door open a bit too harshly –and I would admit, out of annoyance– The door creaked in response.

"Well, good evening to you, Ms. Greene," he said and turned to me with –as usual– a blank expression. I wanted to him make flinch –or at least have surprise etched on his face– but he didn't.