"She seems to have put a lot of efforts in her hairdo." I say, very pensive, but my attention drifts to look at Marcel the second I hear him chuckle. "Don't laugh. She is very elegant. She has a sublime figure. I'm sure she goes to the gym two times a week. No kids. She seems to be wearing a tailleur, which could mean she is very career oriented. I might also guess that she doesn't cook. She's a wine lover as well."
"Red or white?" He quickly asks me, clearly amused.
"Red, obviously. Surprisingly, I get the feeling that she knits. She maybe has some anxiety issues with the pressure of being a woman in business, trying to work twice as much as her peers to be recognised."
"Now that's quite the argument. Are you done?"
"I don't know.... I haven't settled if she's married or not. If she doesn't cook, she needs to have somebody in her life that does... Look at her. She must be wondering why she didn't bring a pair of slipper instead of walking in those heels all day. Poor woman, her feet must be killing her right now. And yet she doesn't show any of it. Anyway... So? Wouldn't you agree to that?" I turn to look at him and smile very genuinely, very proud of my impressions of her.
"I would, your descriptions were pretty thorough. You even went as far as to guess her thoughts and her struggles. Bravo!"
"Thank you."
"But!"
"Oh here we go..." I roll my eyes and grin to his fun to always argue everything I say, we seem to have only been doing that all week since we've been back from Manchester.
"If it would have been anyone else, I would have agreed, but that is Clémence. She is the head of the financial department for the company next doors. She, her husband and their three kids are very happy. Yes, she keeps fit. She has run last year's marathon with me. That's why I know she prefers white wine. I must admit the knitting detail was very entertaining and creative, but she is not really handy. You were right, she doesn't cook, but it's not because she can't. Her husband works from home. He is a journalist. So he takes care of the children and the cooking and all the chores."
"God..." I look outside the window to the woman that has been the subject of my analyse. "I can't believe how wrong I was."
I look down at the floor between us to gather the mess of empty take away food boxes. We are on the floor, hidden behind his desk in his office, close to the window to overlook the city and its people. He stops me before I get up. I quickly throw the boxes into his bin and crawl back to him as he opens his arms for me to sneak between his legs. I get comfortable against his chest and I take both of his hands to wrap his arms around me.
"Mmh.... This feels so good." I moan silently and let my body move to the beat of his chest rising with every breath.
I turn my head suddenly when my phone rings once. His embrace feels suddenly stronger, he clearly doesn't want me to move and I oblige when I feel his lips on my neck. His kisses are very sweet and delicate, it has nothing sexual about it and I love just how he can be both lovers, the angel and the devil.
"Grace? I need to tell you something." He whispers against the skin of my neck and trails a few more kisses before resting his head against mine.
"What is it?" I turn my head slightly, to have a better look at him.
"I lied to you. I don't know who that woman is." He looks down at me very seriously and I don't realise that he just messed with me until a fat smirk overtakes his lips.
I straighten myself away from his arms and push him playfully. I'm obviously amused and I can't seem to hide my amusement from him, not when he looks at me like that.
"How the fuck dare you?! I believed every word you said, you wanker!" I let out with the largest grin despite of my harsh words. I push him away from me again as he fights to take me back into his arms.
"You are so naive, how could I not have a little fun?!"
He captures both of my wrists into his hands and I get totally swooned over by his charm. I submit to him and dive my lips absentmindedly to kiss his, to taste him, to be consumed by him, but I'm cut short when his attention quickly drifts to his ringing cell phone.
"Let it ring." I whine a bit, because he's just asked me to do the same.
"It will only take a second." He lets out and gets his phone out of the pocket of his elegant marine pants and looks at it.
I step back from him, but keep my eyes on him. Something changes in his expression and it intrigues me as to what he reads and who it is from.
"What is it?" I ask, worried that something might be wrong.
He looks up from his phone and rolls his eyes. He turns it off and puts it on the floor to slide it away. He looks up at me and his mood has changed, but in a better way than I thought. He takes me back into his arms and smirks heavily.
"Want to play a game?"
"What are you up to? Mace, we've agreed to work hard today so that I could go home early to get dinner ready."
"Not now, Grace. I seem to have better things on my mind right now." He tugs on my hands and I fall on him, but I pull away the second I can.
"Mace." My tone warns him gently. "We have to be subtle. We can't be acting too cosy in front of these windows. People can spy on us just as easily as we spied on that lady earlier."
"You're right." He responds coldly and gets up, leaving me on the floor alone looking up as he walks the few steps from his desk. "Get up. I'll have you read your story out loud."
"What will it do?" I frown and oblige, flattening my clothes as he organises his desk clean.
"You'll have to read it to me and that way, it will be more obvious to us if sentences need to be more precise or if they are useful. See it as a final review before we get it revised."
"By your mum?" I put my hand on his back and caress it gently to show support. I am so proud of the hard work we have done this week.
"Yeah. I really want every word of this book to mean exactly what you intended them to. I want for every action, every emotion to be described to perfection. I want to hear it as the reader would read it in their heads."
"Does your mum do that with her writers?" I curiously ask, but I feel how tense he becomes. I didn't intend to hurt his feelings at all. I feel so sorry. My caress is being so much more gentle.
"No... I am sure she doesn't. We have done great work, Grace, but for most of times I don't have a fucking clue what I am doing, because nobody in this fucking business ever wanted to give me a chance. I am following my gut and relying on myself, because it's all I know." He lets out as if he had to plead his case to me, which he doesn't. I need to make him feel better. I need to let him in on my personal thoughts.
"I know that. That's why I admire you so much."
He doesn't move nor say a thing for long seconds, but when he does, he looks at me straight in the eyes and I get scared. I have never seen so much depth and I seem to fall endlessly in their green abyss. I feel like he lets me in on his soul and my heart aches. I reach for his hand. I just want to prove how I genuinely mean what I said.
"I am so scared to do something wrong and ruin the success your story could have." He slowly admits, it doesn't seem easy. He seems to search for every word.
"Hey... Marcel?" I ask for his attention as my heart feels heavy in sympathy for him. I slide my hand upper on his arm. "I am proud of how my story has blossomed because of you. It was good and we made it great. Whatever the reaction is, I am proud of what we have done."
I try to smile as I keep analysing the unfathomable expression on his face. It had changed from worry and concern to become completely expressionless. I have a second to notice the change in his breathing and look at his open mouth before I feel it on mine.
I am surprised and completely stunned. He gets closer to me and slowly embraces my body as I seem to finally come alive. I start to give more and more of myself when he pulls away and looks down between us.
"Never I have talked about my insecurities with someone. I don't know what it is about you."
"Trust."
He winces at what I say, but it isn't from pain, the doubt is clear on his expression.
"Marcel, it is trust." I tell him, but I sneak myself closer and slide both of my hands on his neck to hold his gaze steady into mine. A soft grin, almost a sensual smirk, draws itself on my face. "But not like one you have with Eddy or your mum... It's a trust that runs deep into my soul, only for you. I'm yours. All that I am, every fibre in my being trusts you."
The happiness he feels is undeniable and I get overwhelmed to see his genuine carefree beauty. I never thought he would react that way. He is so beautiful. His face seems to glow as he takes my hands from his neck to lay them flat, palm up between us.
"Are you surrendering yourself to me?" He frowns a second, but his smile doesn't fade. I don't really understand the entirety of what he implied, but he looks at me with such intensity I melt instantly.
"Entirely." I feel his hands hold my forearms like I do to him, but my eyes are locked into his mesmerising green gaze, hypnotised.
"What have I ever done to deserve you?" He pulls me to him and I feel his breath on my skin as he whispers the most beautiful words I could ask for.
"I know you love me and you would never do anything to hurt me again." I admit honestly, because I believe it with all my being.
He lets go of my arms and walks away. I frown to his reaction, offended that he would walk away from me like that. I step back and watch him walking in circles, running a hand through his beautiful quiff. He definitely has something on his mind.
"What's wrong, Mace?" I try to understand and step towards him. I feel instinctively hurt and wonder what I did wrong.
"Nothing. We should get to work. I'll print our reviews. I believe you know where the printers are." He only retorts and walks to his desk to sit at his chair.
I am very annoyed. Why did the mood change so suddenly? I did nothing wrong. The problem is him. We were sharing a nice moment and he ruined it. He always ruins everything. I won't argue, I oblige, with a stern look directed at him, which he sees. I make sure of it. I take my phone and walk away from his office.
He tells me these wonderful things and then he pushes me away. I don't even know on which foot to dance when I'm with him. He makes me live so deeply wonderful emotions, but he can also make me crazy mad when he wants.
I look down at my phone and remember that it had vibrated earlier. I look at the notification and read Ash's name on my screen.
Ash: Glasgow definitely has the best burgers ever.
I smile to my phone. He remembered! I press my thumb to unlock my phone and quickly type a response as I make my way through the floor to go to the printer room.
Me: I can't believe you remembered that!
Me: How's the city?
Me: What kind of burger did you try?
I send my last text and look up just when a man gets through the door of the room I was getting into. We collide very strongly and I fall back, making a fool of myself. He laughs quickly, but kneels next to me to offer me a hand. I take it without saying anything as he is making fun of me.
"That's quite the introduction, Miss Hemingway. I'm happy to finally meet you." He says to me kindly. I doubt him a second, but fake a smile and help him gather the sheets that had flown all around.
"I would return you the compliment, but I don't know who you are..." I respond as I look into the man's eyes for the first time.
They are a dark shade of brown. They are scarier than Marcel's. I see no depth. He isn't cold, he seems nice for the little I know of him so far. He has a strong figure. He seems very confident. I would maybe say he is in his late forties, but he doesn't seem that old with the trendy suit he is wearing. I look down at his shoes, they are very fancy.
He stands up and holds his document strongly against his torso and his arm to offer me his hand to shake.
"I'm Paul."
"I'm enchanted to meet you, Paul. I'm sorry to ask that, but how do you know me?"
"You are the firm's new writer. You have been running around the office with Marcel, I had to know who you were. You see, you have been quite the talk around the office."
"Why's that?"
"You are the woman that makes him get out of the office. You got him to Editor. You are everything the people here talk about and yet you are a ghost. You have been working for months and nobody has seen such as a draft of your novel."
"We are working hard. We had both of our studies to finish before committing fully to this project."
"I don't doubt you, Miss Hemingway. For a woman as beautiful and young as you, you must be very talented to already have the opportunity to publish your story."
"That, she is. Or else she wouldn't even be here." Marcel retorts arrogantly from behind me and it makes me jump in surprise.
"It's too bad your talent is wasted on somebody that isn't worthy of you." Paul smiles widely, being so openly hypocritical right in front of both of us.
"I think I can manage my decision myself, Paul. Thank you for your concern. As for your kind compliments, I'd like you to keep in mind to add 'smart' to the list. I might be young, but I'm not dumb. On that, I will wish you a very good day." I return his attitude right to his face, my eyes darting his as anger is boiling in my veins.
I contour him and get inside the printer room. The air is hot and it smells heavily like ink. I head directly to the only little window in the small room and open it to breathe the fresh air. What has just happened?
My heart is racing in my chest. I replay what has just happened in my head. We have just met and he insults me and Marcel in my face. How dares he? Who does he think he is? It is clearly obvious that he despises Marcel. I don't have any trouble believing Marcel now, Sophie's friend might have really got played by that very despicable man.
I turn to look at the door when it opens. Marcel gets in in a hurry. His jaws his clenched. Every of his moves are rushed. He is clearly angry.
I jump of surprise when the big printer starts to make extremely loud sounds as pages are starting to come out. I close the window and step towards the engine, resting both of my hands on the sides to look at the freshly printed sheets coming out. Marcel sighs and looks at me.
I am still annoyed at him and roll my eyes the closer he gets. I thought he wanted me to get the paper. Why is he even here?
"I can take care of this on my own, Marcel. You didn't have to come."
"I know."
"Same goes for Paul. I could have stood up for myself on my own. I don't need you to save me."
"I know."
"Then why did you?"
"I wanted to. And God it was hot to watch you put him in his place."
I look up at him. He has my attention. Not only was he saying wonderful things, but his tone has changed. It was filled with pride... and lust. It excites me and it reminds me all of the long days we spent working together at first, I never would have guessed that under all of his arrogant layers would reside such a horny sex-driven and passionate man. I love to get that out of him. It flatters me a lot. But I made clear we needed to work and, with Paul's doubtful comments on our work, there's no time to fool around.
"You are not the only man I can send to hell." I let out, keeping a stern expression on my face to keep being mad for him to let go of his intentions.
"Well..." He lingers on the word as he walks closer to me and around the printer to embrace me from behind. "I prefer to think I am the one dragging you down to hell with me."
I turn my head to the side, playing along with him to his little seduction game. I let him feel me a little, knowing too well what I am doing. His lips are kissing my neck, his hands trail up my breasts and down to my core. I can't control the shivers rushing through my veins. He can make me feel so good. He pulls my body to his irresistibly. It makes it hard for me to stop him.
"But I'm not fully corrupted yet." I let out to stop the attraction he has on me. I need to think rationally, because he could literally make me do anything and it could get us both in deep trouble. "We really need to work. I don't want to give Paul reason and to see us fail."
This last comment really makes him stop. It has the effect of a cold shower on him, but he clearly sees where I am coming from.
"I am kind of glad about this dinner tonight." He had stepped back enough for me to turn around and look at him as he talked.
"You better stay the whole night then." I smirk, joking to him, reaching for his hand to steal a kiss, but he doesn't play along. He stays still with his usual stern face.
"I can't."
"Why not? Got somewhere better to be?" I frown and can't hide my annoyance as much as I would like to.
"I got to be somewhere early tomorrow morning." He responds as if he didn't see nothing wrong. Which there really isn't, but it's just the way he communicates it with me that makes me feel not more important than his 'appointment'.
"Where?" My curiosity speaks quicker than I can think.
"Do I need to explain myself on everything? I had a life before I met you. I intend to keep having a personal life outside of work."
I am shook and debate whether to submit and let myself be talked to this way for stand up for myself. I decide to start acting like the strong woman I always aspired to be.
"You are right. I was just curious since you've never mentioned it. But don't you dare get angry at me for caring. But clearly you still don't. I am not just 'work', Marcel."
"I know that."
"So start treating me like a person and not just a project."
"Don't you dare tell me I am not making an effort here!" He steps closer, a hand fisted with a finger pointing at me. His anger matches mine. The difference resides that I decided to stop being bullied and mistreated, I am not about to fall through the same pattern again. "Work has always been the center universe of my life. I am still not used to having you in my life. There are lots of things I need to adjust, but it's not my fault you expect too much of me. You invited me to dinner and I agreed. You didn't mention anything about Saturday morning, so I have an engagement somewhere else."
"Is that how it will work between us? Will I have to make an appointment to see you?"
"You see me more than anyone."
"Work doesn't count, Marcel. I want to be with the real you, not the facade you put on for work. You don't have anything to prove to me."
"Isn't this how it works?! If we didn't have to work together, we would have dates or appointments like you just called them." He lets out and I realise how he is right, but I won't concede so easily. I keep silent a quick moment, thinking all of his words through. "You are so used to live in a certain way that you are the one trying to force it on me. You lived with Steeve for years and you were seeing him all the time, so it's seems normal for you. But I am not used to that and we are not living together. I have my own activities and I also want some time to myself. You are asking a lot of me right now."
He is right yet again and I don't want to fight him anymore. He is very right and now I am the one feeling like I am under a cold shower. I feel sorry to, despite of myself, expect so much of him. I was doing it without even realising it. I struggle to look at him and he witnesses my surrendering, because his tone softens and he steps closer to me to lift my chin up with a finger for our eyes to meet.
"The only relationships I have in my life are through work. But just because we work together doesn't mean any less of how I see you. It only made me see you for who you truly are."
"A stubborn mess." I roll my eyes as I let out. I look down at his hand holding my chin and I feel him move it to cup my cheek. I lean my head against his touch, feeling sorry for all this fighting.
"A strong and intelligent woman." He corrects me and smiles slightly. He looks down and lets go of my face as his expression changes. "You know, you could have worked on your story on your own and we could have met not as frequently as we did, but I wanted to spend that time with you. I made that choice, to get to know you. But the choice is yours now. If you want to separate our professional life from our personal life, I understand."
I reach out to him as soon as I understand what he just said to me. He wanted to work that often with me to know me? He made the choice to use our professional life and mix it with our personal life? Why in the world would I spend less time with him? I am honoured that he made such a choice. I feel very cherished.
"I don't want to. We are a team, in and out of the office. I don't want to separate the two." I reach out for his cardigan and pull him to me to embrace lazily his body.
"I was hoping you would say that." He grins softly, very subtly. I sigh and decide to face the facts.
"You are right... We both have work to do on getting out of our mould of comfort to find each other halfway. I am sorry if you felt pressured to change to please me. I don't want that. I don't want to change you."
He doesn't add anything and I feel now calmed and happy again. I smile to know he has vocalised something very crucial about me that I didn't realise I was doing. I look at him and I still can't believe the extent of his feelings for me. His smile isn't subtle anymore, he is totally adorable. I pull him the short distance between us and he leans his face knowing my intentions to kiss him. It's tender and brief, completely perfect before he parts from me and leaves the room for me to do what I came here to do.
-
I leave Marcel's office with pride and confidence. I smile to the floor's secretary and head to the lift. I am so happy with the work we have done today. Even though it got rough between us, we shared some great moments together. It was raw, but honest and I loved it. Even though we yelled at each other, we were open to the other's input. It makes me so happy to have a conversation and really communicate the issues. I never really could do that with Steeve. That thought of him lingers in my mind a second, but I shut it out as the doors open to welcome me into the lift.
I press the button to the first floor and the doors start to close when I hear the sound of heels clicking quicker towards me.
"Hold it." I hear and rush my hand to the door before it closes. "Thank you."
I look up to see Edith Wright joining me in the cabin. I address her with a smile and a single nod before looking at the doors close again. I don't know where to look or what to do. I don't know where I stand with her. She is Marcel's mum, so I want to be on her good grace, but I can't deny how uncomfortable I feel towards her with the rough exchange we've had over her son's promotion to editor.
As I am debating whether I should talk to her first or not, I feel her stare on me. It is subtle and through the reflection of the glass, but I see it. I decide to be the well brought up woman my parents raised and make everything good between us.
"It is nice to see you again, Ms. Wright. How are you doing today?" I turn my head slightly her way and smile to her. Her expression is unfathomable, just like her son's. I don't know if she is surprised, or if she might just act indifferent towards me. In any case, she surprises me with a radiant smile once she's stopped staring at me.
"I'm good, Grace. Thank you for your concern. How is your work with my son? I am becoming quite eager to see the work you two have done together."
Her smile fades to hide her perfectly straight teeth, but the corners of her mouth are still up. I can see the genuine interest she has in the conversation and it pleases me.
"We are almost done, but you know Marcel, he is a hardworking man."
"He is. A bit of a perfectionist too." She grins and turns to face the door again, but before I lose her attention, I face her completely. I want her to trust us, our work together, and I see no other way than to be entirely truthful.
"We should be done next week. He really wants you to review it before we send the final version to process it."
She looks at me and frowns. It isn't mean, but it isn't a good sign either. She loses all trace of smile on her lips.
"He should be able to manage this on his own. He wanted to be an editor." She sighs and lets out. She isn't being strict, she seems sorry. I quickly try to rescue her son's image.
"Believe me, he does want to do this on his own. But he wants his mum's approval, not the head of the company's. It took everything in him to confess that to me, so I will try my best to make it happen." I tell her quite frankly, which stuns her. She really seems to consider my words.
"I am really happy you seem to care so much about him, Grace. I am touched he values my opinion that much, he never told me so." She turns fully to look at me directly in my eyes. She has the same depth of green as her son, the same cold wall as well, but I feel the true emotion in her voice. "I have just too much work to do on my own. I have to--"
The lift stops at the second floor and we both look at the doors opening to reveal a fuming Paul getting in. I keep myself from rolling my eyes at the moment he has just ruined with Edith and I step back to let him in. He looks up and tries to collect himself at the sight of her. She instantly concerns herself and abords him without finishing our discussion.
"What is it, Paul?" She asks him as he pushes the button to the eighth floor, but the lift goes down first.
"Another author just cancelled. It appears no one can go to Edinburgh's Book Fair next weekend."
"What about Jacob?"
"He can't. Aubrey just called us. She can't too."
"But we have already announced them. They are obligated to come, it's in their contract."
"No, I checked. The signings are in the new contracts our established authors haven't signed."
The elevator dings and open its door, but I panic and start thinking about all this mess. I signed a new contract. I have this clause in mine, but I am not published yet. But at the same time, I want to promote Marcel. I think I have an idea.
"Grace?" Edith holds the door for me to get out as she clearly seems to want to continue this discussion with him without me. "Are you getting out?"
"I think I have an idea."
.