Life could be perfect yes.
I had a nice job (ok, my boss hated me, but seriously, who got along with the boss? I'm sure I was just another one in the statistics), I had health (yes, that's important, although the people don't stop to think about this department until something goes wrong, for example, when I broke my ulna bone... oops, I forgot it's a made-up story. Anyway...), I have good friends (I mean, I don't have that many friends, but Hill and Holly are great roommates. For example, Holly is filthy rich and has a wonderful closet full of designer clothes, which she always lends me… or I can borrow without her knowing, it's all the same. and put it right back where it belongs. And Hill got me the job at DBS, although I think it had to do with me being late on rent for a few months. Not to mention she always does my laundry.) and, Of course, best of all: I have an amazing fiancé!
Steve is my fiancé and I can't get enough of screaming from the four winds the last few days!
Okay, not quite. He still has the discretion thing and all, so when I say shout, I mean I write in caps lock on the fake profile
that I created on Instagram to put pictures of my fiancé taken in moments that he is not seeing. Of course I pay attention not to let his face show (his sleeping pictures are the best. There's one in the shower too). And you know what? @Noiva_do_Steve already has several followers! OK,
perhaps I took a risk in putting that suggestive name, but who is going to link the name to the person, as they say? I'm not breaking any rules, I'm sure. And obviously Steve has no idea about anything. Because if he finds out he'll kill me. That simple.
And I want to keep the peace that settled in our lives after all the fuss of the early days of our engagement. And what can I say? Things are really working out now! Finally!
I count the hours every day waiting for Wanda to call and ask to come over to Steve's office for another “Project E” meeting. I ignore Erin's scowl and run to lock myself in the company's CEO's office, where we spend at least two hours rocking his desk in some pretty nasty activity. Or we use the sofa. Or the rug. Or the chair. Anyway... Wanda has heard so many moans that she's convinced the spirits hate her or something. The poor thing is more upset than usual. I even started to
sorry and I tried to contain myself, but it's pretty hard to do the silent line with Steve Rogers.
To reward her, I went to lunch with her at the cemetery and even pretended to read that book of spirits.
Steve asked me what was going on with Wanda as he arrived at the office and found her kneeling in front of her desk with her arms raised as she muttered "Oh dear spirits, I'm here, you can whisper now." and I was forced to tell what I had done. Steve got pissed off and said that from that day on he was canceling our Project E meetings. Obviously, that resolution only lasted about twelve hours, because the next day he called me again.
The truth is, we're hopeless, and I wonder if I'll ever get tired of it. Because, in addition to all the activity at the company, we would still go to his apartment at night for a few more hours of extra activity. Unfortunately, there was only one thing that made me a little uneasy. After we had sex until I lost my strength, I always ended up sleeping, only to be woken up sometime later by Steve asking me to get dressed because he was going to take me home.
When it happened the first night I was there, I was surprised that he was sending me away saying that he “needed to work”.
"Do you work nights at your house too?"
"Of course I do," he replied, as if it were a very common occurrence, as he helped me put on my clothes, since I was still sleepy.
I thought it would happen just that one time, but he did the same thing the other nights. And I was always so high I couldn't argue and just thought about how weird it was the next day. I was always rehearsing to confront him on this subject, but we were so busy having sex when we were together that I forgot.
We'd have plenty of time to talk today, as we're heading to the Costwoods, a good two-hour drive, for her parents' anniversary party.
I confess that this party story was making me a little apprehensive, but I try not to freak out. After all, there was no reason.
I had gotten along well with the Rogers and they had no idea that our engagement had started out as a lie. Except Scott, Steve's brother-in-law. Steve told me he wasn't going to say anything, so it was just that he wasn't pissed at me putting in question the legitimacy of his father's medical degree that everything would be fine.
Now here I am, wearing my best jeans, a shabby Top Shop coat that doesn't heat up much anddrinking my coffee while I wait for Steve in front of my building.
Luckily Hill had gone for a run in Hyde Park with Holly, because I figured I was going to my parents' house, which was really my intention before Steve told me he'd have to change my plans. My mom freaked out a little when I told her I was going to visit Steve's family and couldn't go home this weekend, after all, it was the weekend she was going to cook a magical dinner with her crazy friends.
Yes, my mother had cult companions or whatever the name of these people who are into witchcraft and magic and things like that. And every month they had a special dinner to praise the goddess, which basically consisted of gossiping about the townspeople and then dancing naked in the moonlight.
Seriously, they really danced naked in the woods. And I knew this because my mother convinced me to accompany her once, and I was traumatized for months by seeing the breasts of Miss Collins, my elementary school teacher. That she had a tattoo on her ass. In the ass!
So I even gave thanks to God for being able to get rid of that weird party of my mother and her friends.
When Steve parks the car, I jump in, teeth chattering.
- Cold? he asks, amused, as he starts.
— Kind of obvious, since it's January and it's almost zero degrees outside!
"That coat of yours doesn't seem to be of much use!"
"And it's no use at all." It's the only one I have. I usually wear one of Holly's, but she forbade me to wear her clothes.
Yeah, Holly got pissed yesterday when she saw I smeared her velvet Miu Miu skirt. Of course I could take it without her seeing it, but I preferred not to risk it for now.
— Holly is your friend who dreams of participating in the X-Factor.
Look, he remembered that I'd told him about Holly while we were having Chinese dinner yesterday and X-Factor was on TV.
“Yeah, she was pissed that Simon Cowell said her performance was cabaret-worthy.
Steve laughs and I shift to my side to look at him.
"So, since we're going to be in the car for two hours, can we talk?"
Steve raises an eyebrow.
“Why does it feel like we're starting some kind of DR?
— Hmm, I hadn't thought of it in those terms, but it could be!
How exciting, Steve and I would have our first DR!
- Are you serious? Steve seemed to find it a lot of fun. “I thought couples had this kind of argument after months of being in a relationship or something.
'Couples have it when they need it!' — I am full of knowledge.
It's clear that I'm the most experienced in the relationship department, as the only thing Steve did before was pick up girls at the pub for the night. And of course, that Sharon doesn't count.
It doesn't count because I don't want to count, period. I prefer to pretend it doesn't exist and I'm fine with that.
“Okay, so what's the big problem we're facing right now? – Steve asks, still in an amused tone. Okay, he thinks I'm not serious. He will see.
“The first thing is, I don't understand why I have to go home every night, when it would be more correct for me to sleep with you.
Aha! I can tell he wasn't expecting it.
Points for the girls!
Steve looks away from the road for a few seconds, frowning at me.
“I don't understand what the problem is. You have your home.
“That's not the point! I roll my eyes, exasperated. — Couples usually spend the night together… Heck, even one-night stands can sleep together!
- Not with me!
“Okay, I understand you didn't want to sleep with the other girls, but I'm different! I'm not your one-night stand!
“Natasha, I already explained it to you. I have a routine, work to do...
"Oh, do you think I believe this work talk?"
- Why not? Do you think I'm lying? “He looks very indignant.
- I did not say that! It's weird! Who works all night after working all day?
— People who are serious about their careers, for example.
'It's absurd!' — I throw my hands up.
- It is not. I told you I take my career very seriously. And should do the same.
- How it is? “Now I'm the one who's outraged.
“You're smart, Natasha. You should be more dedicated to what you do.
Oh, is he criticizing me?!
I?
- I'm applied!
He laughs, which annoys me even more.
"It's not for laughing!" Is he laughing at me?
- No! I'm just giving you some advice.
“I didn't ask you for any advice. In fact, I don't even need advice! Even more than a guy who works twenty-four hours a day!
“I don't work twenty-four hours a day. Some hours I spend giving you orgasms, if you don't remember.
— Oh, are you seriously going to throw it in my face? Are you trying to say that I distract you from your mission to be the most dick-in-the-ass CEO that ever lived in the world?
"Why are you turning on me?" We were talking about you.
“Hey, we weren't talking about me, we were talking about your obsession with your work! And now you want me to be like youyou! A mini Steve!
"I didn't say that, I just said I could take your job at DBS more seriously!"
“Steve, I joined DBS a few weeks ago! And I'm a fucking assistant!
"And it won't stop being if you don't have more responsibility."
“Oh, are you my fucking father now?
“I doubt your father spoke to you like that. If he had, he might have put in a little more effort to do well in his career.
"Oh, fuck you!" I sit up straight on the bench, crossing my arms against my chest.
Steve is one hell of an arrogant workaholic asshole!
— Natasha? Look at me.
I ignore it. Even though he still has that serious badass CEO tone. I'm not afraid of him. In fact, it's established that from now on I hate the badass CEO who lives inside Steve Rogers. And as long as he didn't disappear and let my affectionate, romantic fiancé's personality take over, I wouldn't talk to him.
“Fuck, Natasha, are you going to be like this the whole trip?
I don't make a peep.
He doesn't try to talk to me for the rest of the trip. And when he parks the car in front of his parents' house and we get out, Hope and Florence come towards us.
'Finally they've arrived!' Hope says. — Natasha, you have to try on the beautiful dress I bought you!
— I'm glad you have a dress, I couldn't get one from my colleague who lives with me!
I let her pull me inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Steve going to unpack the car.
“And you need to see mine. It's fabulous! Florence says excitedly.
— Will it work? - Hope blinks and Florence gets annoyed.
"Of course you go and shut your mouth!"
- What's it? — I look from one to the other.
'Florence is pregnant!' Hope lets out.
- Serious?
'I'm still not sure!' Florence whispers, pulling me into a room. — I took one of those drug tests, you know it can fail.
'They don't fail!' - Hope insists.
"I'd rather have a more guaranteed exam on Monday!"
"And does anyone else know?"
'Not Sean! So you two keep your mouths shut! – Florence asks and we nod in agreement.
Steve enters the room at that moment carrying the bags and I wonder if I should talk to him again or if I give him a few more hours of ice.
"Steve, we're going to try on the dress!" Hope throws him out, taking the decision out of my hands. "Go stay with the men downstairs!"
- Men? You mean my brother, my brother-in-law and my father?
"Henry's here too!"
- Serious? I didn't think Henry would come! He shoots me a speculative look and I turn away, in my best representation of an ice woman. Steve shrugs, leaving and closing the door behind him.
'Who's Henry?' I ask.
“One of Steve's best friends, they went to Eton together,” Hope replies, pulling a green dress off the hanger.
“I don't think I've ever met a friend of Steve's. I frown, a little annoyed.
Florence starts taking my clothes off like I'm a Barbie.
Well, they could even make a Barbie based on me.
It would be the CEO's bride Barbie.
She would sell like hell.
- Serious? As well? Florence asks curiously as Hope pulls the dress over my head.
— I mean, you know how the beginnings of relationships are… We just want to stay at home and have sex!
they laugh.
"Are you still at that stage?" Hope looks at me in amazement and I shrug.
Well, they don't know that we don't have as much time together as they believe.
“Wow, it was beautiful!
I admire myself in the mirror and the dress really is stunning.
“Thanks, it was really cool.
- Nice? You will rock!
— Now let's go downstairs the hairdresser and makeup artist are there in Maggie's room — Florence says and I accompany them to the makeup and hair session.
When I get back to the bedroom, it's already dusk and Steve is there putting on his tuxedo. For a moment I just admire him. Damn, Steve is so handsome it hurts to look at him.
But when our gaze meets through the mirror, he frowns.
'Are you still angry?'
I toss my freshly brushed hair and grab the dress from the hanger.
- Of course yes!
“Shit, I knew this DR thing wasn't going to work,” he huffs.
"Oh, sure, the know-it-all always has all the answers!" — I can't help but scoff and Steve swears some more.
“Okay, you can sulk. But remember, you're the one who started this argument just because I send you home every night.
I take off my robe and start putting on my dress.
“I just wish my fiancé had said, 'Oh dear, does this bother you? So from now on you can sleep with me every night. By the way, check out the empty space in my closet, you can bring some clothes.” and not that he began to accuse me of being remiss with my work! I snarl as I try to zip the shit up.
"Hell, I didn't mean to piss you off!" Not for one thing or another! Yes, I take my job seriously and you knew it very well! Steve steps behind me and slaps my hand, zipping it up himself.
- YouSaid he wanted to be with me! And I believed! My voice comes out more hurt than I intended.
- And I want!
'On your terms!'
He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around.
“You're making a fuss over something that doesn't matter at all.
— It's for me!
- Really? Are you going to keep arguing why don't you sleep over at my place?
"You talk like it's a crime to want to be with you, Steve!"
He takes a deep breath.
“Okay, I think we can negotiate a concession.
There it is. The Trading CEO.
Suddenly it's like déjà vu from when we were in that bathroom the first morning, when he asked me to lie that I was his fiancee.
It feels like years and not weeks.
Heck, a few weeks and we were already arguing like a middle-aged couple.
It felt like things between Steve and me were moving at a different speed, like in that movie where astronauts go to a distant planet, spend four minutes there, and here on Earth ten years have passed.
“OK, what kind of concession?
"Would twice a week be okay for you?"
— During the week or the weekend?
- In the week.
“Wait, you're not going to work on the weekends either, are you?
“Well, sometimes I do.
'Sometimes or always?'
- Often…
“Seriously, why didn't I fall in love with a bum? I complain, already knowing it's no use lying to myself. I like this guy. And the way he is. And I won't give him up for the world. If I had to share it with my career, I would.
Even because we could always negotiate some concessions. Hadn't I gotten the biggest concession of all when he decided he wanted to give up his work-controlled life to be with me?
Before I can answer, we hear a knock on the door and Hope emerges.
— Ready? Mom said the guests have already started to arrive!
- Yes we are. Steve takes my hand and we follow Hope out of the room.
And I can't help a thought hammering in my mind.
Okay, I still had a smaller share in Steve's career.
However, if he was stubborn, so could I.
And the question was, could I negotiate a bigger share and make myself a priority in his life?
- All right? He squeezes my hand as we walk down the stairs and I force myself to smile.
- Yea…
When I turn around again, the smile dies on my face as I catch a glimpse of who's walking through the French doors dressed in a magnificent gold dress.
Sharon Carter.
What the fuck is this bitch doing here?
DR - abbreviation for relationship discussion