What?
Ok, is this some sick game or am I missing something here? What's with the flowers and the note? We talked, I apologized, and he said he'll collect his debt, not send me flower... trying to romanticize me. Ok, I'm getting very ahead of myself. My mind simply shrugs its shoulder as if nothing in here is unusual.
Hold on! Who is apologizing to whom? It should be me who had to send him flowers! My list is longer than him! Obviously. What is wrong with him! Why is he so intimidating? Gosh, did he have no one tell him he's an arrogant billionaire before?
I scold at the card and then flowers. Is he trying to pull something here? Is he one of those who shows up at my doorstep asking to have sex? So many questions twirl in my head. Finally, after all the deadly gazes, I send to those innocent orchids lying in the box, I fill a vase with water and put them in. They smell really good.
It's been so long I haven't received flowers, I wasn't that kind of girl going around high school, dating random guys, I was more like those girls chatting with their BFFs and occasionally going out to a café and stay inside the rest of the time. Unlike me, Ella and Alice both have the balls to do reckless things; although they try to tag me along, I don't consider myself that much of a reckless.
For a few minutes, I allow myself to watch the flowers as if any moment something might happen, but inside, I think back to the eyes that have been haunting me in my dream, the same eyes watching me closely in the club last night.
Inside, I know I'm just making excuses and lie to myself. I should talk to my auntie. She knows how I can get rid of this tycoon- meaning, how I can get closer to him. He is getting on the last nerve of me, he confuses me to a new level.
My phone rings up, giving me a start. As I dash for it, I half expect it to be him, as if he has magically found my phone number, which wouldn't be too difficult for a man like him.
"Well, hello to you too, stranger."
"Hi, auntie," I hear my aunt's voice. She is the only woman who was there for me for the majority of my teen years. Mostly because I used to live with them before they left LA for New York. She is understanding and kind.
She is the only one in my mother's family whose marriage has lasted more than twenty years. I trust her; maybe more I do with my own mother. After my dad's death, my mom married again and because she was about to leave Los Angeles to Chicago and I didn't like to go with them, I stayed with my aunt for eleven years until Peter, my uncle, found a job position in New York so they left here, and I stayed.
"How are you, honey? Everything's good at work?" She always treats me like her own daughter because they didn't have one. Elisabeth and Peter never withheld what they had for me, they acted like I was their own child and I really appreciate for what they've done for me.
"Yeah. Everything is fine. I'm sorry I haven't called you, I-."
"Been busy?" she interrupts me, "I know honey. I understand."
"Thank you," I sigh, my hand playing with the corner of my notepad I keep on my counter,
"Well, I know that sigh. Tell me what's going on. Something is bothering you,"
"I... it's just...," I try to find a way to ditch the question, but am unable, "there is this guy, whom I embarrassed myself in front of him, but apologized. Anyways, long story short, he's sent flowers, orchids to be exact, and I don't know what's the meaning of this?" I left out the part where he kissed the back of my hand and then brush his hand on my naked back. Ok, well, I might have deleted the drunken scenes too... and I may not tell we're talking about a billionaire...
"Is that a laughter I hear?" I say, confused.
Ok, maybe talking to my aunt about guys right now is a little too late, considering those talks should have happened in my high school years, but then again, I wasn't a normal teenage girl back then. While everyone was enjoying their time, I was and perhaps am dealing with depression.
"Oh dear, you don't see it, do you?" She laughs again. See what? She clears her throat and continues, "you are talking about a boy, which is new, and you don't know that he likes you."
"What?" This is ridiculous. Ok, maybe he sent me flowers, kissed the back of my hand, him, a billionaire, but that doesn't mean anything... surely?
"I don't know what's the real deal, but if a man sends you flowers, it means two things, either he's trying to apologize for something or he likes you." She says calmly.
"Ok, no... none of those two is what's happening," I say, shaking my head, "no, I don't think so," I deny again.
"Whatever honey," she laughs. And I know that mocking laughter.
"There must be a third scenario... that, you know, the guy is sending flowers because he just feels like charming...,"
"Aha," she says,
"No," I firmly say, still deny. I mean, that's not even possible. Why would he do it? I mean... he's ANDREW MARTINEZ!
"Ok. Then ignore him, kick him away, let a keeper go, and make yourself miserable." She says the words intently.
"Ok. It doesn't matter because he didn't ask me anything, and for god sake, it's obvious he hates me."
"Have it your way." There is an awkward silence.
"So, how're things?" I ask,
"Oh... I miss you. Don't forget to visit us if you should come around," maybe after all of these delirium events in my life, I take a short trip, visiting my aunt.
"I will. Send my hi to Peter." Peter is like my father, kind, and caring.
"I will. Take care and be careful." And then she hangs up.
Unlike last night, I don't feel unsafe. Darkness doesn't bother me anymore. It's maybe because of the flowers. Knowing that he might like me or even maybe he's thinking of me right now—all of which a consequence of speaking to my daydream aunt—makes me feel that after all someone is out there who might like a brunette girl like me with silly dark brown eyes. That night I sleep well, better than yesterday.
"Laura, our photocopy machine is crashed. Would you please get this page copied on the seventh floor?" Ben shoves the paper, and I stand up on my feet to peeve for the duty.
I jump into the elevator and push for the seventh floor. A young man probably around my age is sitting behind the computer and aborted in his work. I clear my throat as I approach the desk to get his attention. He raises his head and smiles at me.
"How can I help you?" He asks softly as his gray eyes dart me on the floor.
"Um... I'm from OPC. We have a mechanical problem with our photocopier machine, I thought maybe I could use yours?"
"Yes of course. Come with me." He leaps out of reception desk and marches toward a room. I follow him. He opens the door and gets to the photocopy machine as he makes it ready. He extends his hand toward me demanding the papers and I hand them to him. He starts to copy them one by one.
"So, you must be Ben Trevor's assistant?" He keeps his head down on his job or maybe ignores having eye contact.
"Yes." I nod, though he doesn't see me.
"Here you go. Done." He turns back papers to me.
"How much should I pay?" I dash out my wallet to prepare the money.
"It's free. For you." He winks at me and I force myself to smile at him. I thank him and turn back to OPC. I enter Ben's office, he is not here, so I put the papers on his desk. Turning back to my deck I start to type the papers for Ben's conference. As I am deep in work and concentrated the elevator's door pings. Ignoring the sound, I continue my job.
"Miss Brown, I told you we'll see each other quite often," A hot, mouth-watery husky voice speaks,
Somehow, I don't need to see who the voice belongs to. Groaning, I look up and those two-headed hungry blue eyes are staring at me. Biting my cheek, I stop myself from replying something cheeky. Why do I get the feeling he's trying to "accidentally" pop-up where I work so he can continue his torture?
His gray suit hangs perfectly on his shoulder. Just looking at him makes me want to jump up into his arms, I mean, not jump into his arms. He changes his sexy smile into a secretly powerful mind blower smirk while he cocks his head to one side.
"Um... Mr. Martinez... What are you doing here? I mean, surely, you didn't mean to stop by to see me," God, I sound like one of those wide-eyes girls from those romantic movies.
"Quite the opposite. I'm here for my meeting. OPC is going to present their project to me today. But of course, you must have known that," he smirks successfully.
My face falls. Well, if I had been smart enough to check the calendar and attendees, of course, I would have seen it. But since my duties do not revolve around the details, I was not aware. Well, I just made an *ss of myself... again!
I feel the red blush on my cheek as I try to look down and showing my discomfort. Seriously? Since when I get this clumsy over a guy?
"Mr. Martinez, we've been expecting you, please let me lead you to the conference room." Ben shakes hands with him briefly. Turning to me Ben continues, "Laura, dear, have you made the papers ready?"
Without looking at him, I mutter, "they're on your desk,"
My eyes are shackled to the interesting stapler. Ben murmurs a thank-you and asks Mr. Martinez to follow him. He nods his head at him but turns around swiftly and nods at me with a half-done smirk. And then, he disappears through the hallway with Ben. As the sight of his disappearance, my feet shake, and I drop on the chair with a loud thwack which spreads into the empty hallway and the reception. What was that all about?
After what seems like forever, they finally start to drift out of the conference room and filling the elevator one by one. When I thought everyone is almost gone, he comes to my vision, smiling wisely, he walks toward me. I push to my feet and try to stay on my feet as long as they allow me as he approaches.
"Miss. Brown, would you escort me down, please?" He tries to sound so casual, although the oddness and complete well-informed in his tone shows he knows what he's playing at. So, do I. The opportunity to talk to me is hidden in the secret of escorting. Why so mysterious?
"Of course." Inform me if there's a way out of this awkwardness.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, the ride down to lobby is quiet. In the middle of the ride, I kick myself for accepting. What secretory does escort people out? We step into the empty lobby, where oddly seems like a desert, it seems like nobody wants to be here which just adds more awkwardness. But to my interest, we arrive at the entrance so soon that usually, I do.
"So, Miss. Brown, how long has it been since you are working here?" ha-ha! You've had all these times to ask that question and you're only asking it now? Also, why does he care? Argh, someone needs to answer all these unanswered questions.
"Um... it's almost a year, I think." He nods as we stand at the entrance. A black SUV is parked in front of the building. He turns to face me,
"I hope you're still keeping the orchids."
"I do, they're safe with me. Don't worry."
"Good, I trust you," he looks at his watch and his face turns into a disgusted one. With the annoyed face, he looks at me, but an immediate smile covers up everything. God, if he continues that killer smile I might collapse here, right in front of everyone. Damn him. "I'm sorry I must leave now, though I was hoping we could have a coffee or something. How about some dinner. Would you like to join me for a dinner?" he did not just ask me out for dinner, did he?
"sure," I say,
"good," he nods, "see you tonight. I'll email you the details," With a playful smile on his face, he leans forward and gives me a peek on my cheeks. Holding his head there, he tries to catch my smell; I know that by the way his exhale is taken. His soft lips leave a hot heated spot on my skin. While I'm still on the shocked of what the hell just happened, he nods at me and leaves the building.
And like that he's gone.
Holy sh*t. I just accepted a lunch... date? A lunch with my boss' client.
Suddenly, before I could even realize it, panic embraces me. A mega-billionaire just asked me if I could go out with him for dinner. Can you kill me now, please? My aunt's words flood back into my head.
I watch him walking to the car as a forty or, so year old man steps out and open the door for him. They exchange a few words before he gets into the car and leaves the street. I, on the other hand, am still standing in the mid lobby, staring at the empty parking lot. It is then I realize I'm holding my breath; I let it go with a loud huff like all these weights were on me.
When I turn around to head back, I could see some people staring at me, some gawking. I bet they know who was just here, and just what happened. All hope is that my heated face when he was kissing my cheek won't be the headline on tomorrow's newspaper.
Home sweet home. I take off my clothes immediately as I can. I haven't cooked in awhile; maybe it's time for a little cooking. But when I approach the refrigerator I realize tonight I'm not going to cook at all. Nice! Not so nice at all, though, when I think I must sit before him and have dinner with a man that makes more money an hour than I do a month. Just as he promised, I've received the email. I was hoping he's forgotten it, but I see he's definitely a man of word.
From: Andrew Martinez
Date: 2015/6/30, 16:20 P.M.
To: Laura Brown
Subject: The restaurant details
Dear Miss. Brown,
I will be so happy if you could join me for tonight's dinner. La Rose Rose, 582 South Santa Monica Boulevard, Beverly Hills,
See you there at 7:00 P.M.
Andrew Martinez, CEO of ACM Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Crap, I don't have enough time. With the lack of time I have, I'm still staying at home, gaping at the hundreds of old-fashioned clothes I have, getting a panic and wondering for the thousandth time why I just accepted it. Finally, after lots of calling off, I decide to wear mesh cut out, color black bodycon dress with short sleeves that only covers my upper arms.
My brown hair falls on my back and gives me a ridiculous look. I just wonder if my family name has to do anything with me being brunette and brown eyes. I'm going to ask that later from mom. Shit! I'm going to be late. Light eyeliners and some blush just do great for now. I do it on the way, in the taxi.
Not thirty minutes later, I find myself before the restaurant. With a soundly exhale I start walking toward it.