Christian, while not turning around and acknowledging her with one of his gazes, raised his hand and flexed his fingers in a manner of waving slightly. He really did not want to deal with Izzy this early in the morning without a cup of coffee in hand. And anyway, he was very nearly finished with his project that was due the following day. As he entered his office, he ran his fingers through his hair, thankful that Izzy had not followed him, pestered him, or relayed any messages to him as of yet. He liked to relax for an hour in his office before dealing with anyone; once he was settled and comfortable, he could focus and do his best work. What he was not expecting, however, was seeing Barry relaxed in one of his very comfortable guest chairs, his feet propped up on the front edge of his desk, and his eyes closed. Though upon hearing Christian enter, Barry opened one eye to clarify that it was indeed his friend and no one else.
“Christian!” Barry said, straightening up and smiling a very knowing smile. His eyes followed his friend as Christian very carefully slid of his suit jacket and hung it on his chair. Then he took a seat at his desk, giving Barry a curious look. “So?” Barry asked, throwing his arm out in a questioning gesture. “How was last night? How was the babe? Is she hotter in person?”
Christian rolled his eyes and then glanced at the paper bag that he had placed on his desk. “She packed me lunch,” he said, causing Barry to follow his gaze until he reached the brown bag as well.
Seeing this, Barry’s dark, heavy brow skyrocketed and he leaned forward, grabbing the bag and opening it up. “I knew she was supposed to give you food, but I didn’t know she actually packed you a real lunch!” He grabbed the small tupperware container and opened it. Immediately, his nostrils became acquainted with the heavy aroma that always accompanied chicken alfredo. He pulled out a silver fork that was also in a bag, and before Christian could stop him, took a big bite.
Christian watched Barry’s reaction intently, his fingers interlocked so that his chin rested in between the folds his fingers produced. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t biased concerning Maggie’s culinary skills; even she did not seem to be a big fan of hers. But as Barry continued to chew, his whole face relaxed, and his eyes seemed to take on a satisfied glint that said more than Barry could ever hope to articulate.
“You are one lucky son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, standing up and leaning over so he could easily slap Christian on the back. Christian immediately stood, trying to look over his shoulder, making sure Barry didn’t inflict some sort of damage on his attire. “Oh, sorry, buddy,” Barry said quickly, taking a couple of steps back. “I always forget how important your clothes are to you.”
Before Christian could respond, Izzy walked in as she was accustomed to. Christian had hinted that it would be prudent of her to knock before entering, but she seemed to feel that she was a special part of Christian’s work so she was above such miniscule rules. He shot her an annoyed look, but as always, Izzy ignored it and instead looked down at the post-it notes that made up Christian’s messages. However, just as she was about to recite them to her very handsome boss, something caught her eye that caused her sense of worry to flare. There was a packed lunch sitting in the center of his desk. He was a vampire who barely ate human food. Who the hell had packed him this lunch?
Izzy cleared her throat, hoping to contain her graceful demeanor, and then began to read. “Your uncle wants to see you right now,” she said.
Christian’s face contorted into a distasteful scowl, and still, Izzy thought he was the most beautiful specimen on the planet. “Do you know what he wants to see me for, Izzy?” Christian asked, raising his brow and looking at her expectantly.
She loved when he said her name…
“I think it has to do with the briefs you turned in two weeks ago,” she said, and then leaned forward slightly, knowing this would surely draw Christian’s beautiful jade green eyes to her bountiful bosom. “I also think it’s related to the project you have to turn in tomorrow.” She paused, watching him, but his eyes did not tread to her chest. Instead, he ran his hand over his face in a frustrated manner. Frowning, Izzy stood up straight and waited for any requests Christian might have.
“That’s it, Izzy,” he said, waving a hand dismissively before pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can go.”
Barry winked at the married receptionist and bit his lip suggestively, but as always when in a room with Christian, the surrounding environment seemed unnecessary and her eyes were only reserved for him. So Barry went ignored. Izzy could not believe Christian had barely glanced at her, especially when she was saving this particular shirt for an important day. She dramatically spun around, and all but stalked out the door, vowing to find who this mysterious person was who seemed to be now constantly occupying Christian’s thoughts where she believed she rightfully belonged.
Barry’s face winced as he turned back to Christian. “Going to see the old man, huh?” he asked in a strained voice. “Good luck, man. Hope all is well.”
“Thanks, Barry,” Christian said, and he stood. After sliding his jacket back on, he followed Barry out the door of his office.
Whenever Christian was nervous, he would slide his hands into his pockets and ball them into fists because otherwise, he would be sliding them up and down his pants, and the suit he was wearing was too expensive for nervous gestures. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the top button before replacing his hands back into his pockets. Even the elevator music couldn’t distract him from his muddled thoughts. His uncle never wanted to speak with him in person concerning business matters unless it was a serious, which meant that this had to be serious.
The elevator slid open, and a very attractive secretary smiled up at him. Christian stepped out and returned her smile, but for the life of him, he could not remember her name. His uncle went through secretaries the way some people go through money. After she told him that his uncle was expecting him, Christian headed for his Tristan’s office. The top floor was split into three sections: Mr. Stewart’s office, a conference room, and a lobby. There were no employees typing furiously away on computers in scattered cubicles. Only a few men in suits met up with his father to speak to him. Most of the time, they were his legal counsel, while some were stockholders and clients. It was different each day. Today, the conference room was empty, which meant that Christian’s uncle would be in his office.
Christian stopped in front of his father’s closed oak door and took in a deep breath for confidence before he rapped his knuckles on the smooth surface.
“Come in,” a voice called from inside.
Christian opened the door and walked inside, surprised to see not only his uncle, but also the head of his legal team, a Mister Timothy Williams. As usual, Timothy’s hair was slicked back with much too much gel and his glasses hung dangerously on the bridge of his nose. He was dressed in a very nice pin-striped suit, but Christian noticed a few wrinkles decorating the shirt. He concealed a smirk at this and shifted his gaze until he was looking at his father. He had never liked Timothy, and he probably never would. Timothy tried too hard to fit in with the elite crowd his clients were a part of, and because of this, Christian found him rather desperate rather than confident. Timothy should know that one had to be born into this kind of thing, and because he wasn’t, he would never truly be part of the elite.
“Ah, Christian,” his uncle said, smiling at his son. Christian resembled his father quite remarkably. They both had a thick head of brown hair, although the older Stewart’s was now slightly greying. This of course did not detract from his good looks. He had the same oval-shaped face, the same long, pointed nose, the same crooked smile. Mister Stewart, however, was a few inches shorter than Christian, and due to age and lack of daily exercise, he had a slight stomach that was not normally noticed due to his knowledge of how to dress. The two even seemed to have the same fashion sense for Christian did not see any fault in his uncle’s suit. However, the one thing they differed on was their eyes; Christian had received his mother’s jade-
green eyes while Mister Stewart had very charming light blue eyes. His mother would tell Christian he had his father’s good looks, but inherited her honest eyes, and Christian liked to believe that.
“Let’s get straight to the point,” Timothy stated in his nasal voice, his brow furrowed in such a way that it nearly overlapped his beady eyes.
“The stockholders are upset with you, son,” Tristan Stewart remarked briskly, his face becoming tense as it usually did when he spoke of business matters. “In your last report, you mixed up key numbers, which caused our stocks to take a five percent dip.”
“This isn’t the first time this has happened, either,” Timothy interjected, giving Christian a condemning look.
“I don’t understand,” Christian said, shaking his head. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not even readjust a strand of hair that slipped between the holding gel and fell very softly onto his face. “I checked the numbers three times. They all came out correctly.”
“Well, they didn’t,” Timothy said flatly. “You screwed up again, Christian, and because of it, the company has lost some money.”
“Not too much money,” Mister Stewart corrected, “but an amount. Listen, if this was the first time, it would be forgivable, but it’s not. If you’re having trouble juggling everything that your job requires you to do, you need to sort that out because we can’t afford to have our stockholders lose faith in this company.” His eyes were sharp, a warning.
Christian’s hands were remarkably still in his pockets, but he was gripping them so tightly, he could not feel the smooth material that encased them. He had to remain calm and look professional. He couldn’t get mad, though he was sure his face was currently turning an unflattering shade of red.
“So…” Christian asked. He let his voice trail off in hopes to gain more control over it. He could not talk to his uncle or Timothy with a shaky voice. They wouldn’t take him seriously, for goodness’ sake! “What are you saying?”
“You’re suspended, Christian,” his uncle replied in a crisp manner. Those blue eyes that could be so friendly had grown steely and quite cold as he regarded his nephew. “You need to sort your life out, do whatever it takes to get your focus where it should be; on this company’s welfare. You will still be paid of course, but starting as soon as you leave this building, you are suspended from work until I see it that you’re fit enough to come back.” He stopped speaking, and then regarded his son for a long, silent moment. “Go on then. We’re through here. I’ll discuss this more with you tomorrow over dinner.”
Chapter 7
Christian didn’t go home that Friday until when he normally would, and he didn’t say anything to anybody. He didn’t want to think about his “suspension,” if he was being completely honest. He felt that he had failed concerning his career; if he couldn’t even succeed when his uncle was in charge of a company, how was he going to succeed somewhere else? As he sat in his den, on the couch, he continuously reminded himself that he wasn’t fired, only suspended.
The thought did little to soothe his anxieties.
That night, he didn’t come out for dinner, nor did he go to his room. At around eight o’clock that evening, he heard light knocking on the door to his den. He ignored it, however; right now, he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
When the next morning came, he awoke, feeling rather sore but in slightly better spirits than the night before. Maybe his uncle was right: more than anything, he needed food. After that, he’d be back avoiding Izzy and joking around with Barry in no time.
He walked out of the den and into the living room, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. Christian had a change of clothes and pajamas stocked in the closet of his den for such occasions as last night, and before he had fallen asleep, he had carefully changed out of his suit and into his light blue and white striped Ralph Lauren pajamas. A pillow and blanket also took up some space in the closet, so while he was slightly sore, he had been somewhat comfortable. Now, though, he continued to remain in his pajamas as he walked through his house instead of changing, which was odd for Christian because he was not usually so leisure. However, he was remarkably comfortable and the suit waiting for him was much too nice to risk wearing it unless he was going to a special dinner, or even to a charity event. In fact, he questioned why, out of all his suits, he decided to place that one in his closet.
His thoughts were put on pause as he entered the living room, however, and his arms fell slowly to his sides. Maggie was dancing to an old Beach Boys song as she made pancakes for the two of them.
“I love this song,” he mumbled.
She jumped. He bit his bottom lip to keep from smirking. He liked knowing he had this sort of power over her.
“I love this song too,” Maggie informed him with a nostalgic smile on her face.
“It would seem that you like many songs,” Christian murmured dryly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Maggie turned again and met Christian’s eyes with her own. He swallowed, but even if he wanted to (which he did not), he could not look away from her if he tried. “Their lyrics are so simple,” Maggie said almost wistfully, a small smile on her face, “and yet, they say everything you want to say.”
Think of something, Christian thought. His eyes were still in hers despite his silence.
“I think the simplicity makes it even more moving.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. In fact, Christian highly doubted he had even thought of them prior to releasing them, but it didn’t seem to matter because her smile widened and she nodded in agreement. Again, his heart stopped for a quick moment as he looked at her, but he didn’t even notice.
She took a step towards him and fell forward, tripping over something that looked like one of his briefcases. Immediately, she landed in his arms, taking both of them down. He closed his arms around her, ensuring she didn’t get harmed.
Christian didn’t know how badly he had wanted to kiss her until that moment. It wasn’t just a desire, but a necessity. She looked so happy that it was hard not to follow suit, and she felt so warm in his arms. Maggie wasn’t squirming against him; she wasn’t pushing him off of her. Instead, she was merely looking up at him, a slightly inquisitive look on her face. And then, she lifted her arm and her fingertips gently grazed his forehead as she pushed his hair out of his face.
“You have nice hair,” she murmured with a beguiling smile. “No matter how you wear it.”
Christian immediately pulled himself up, and offered Maggie a hand. She smiled up at him for the rare, chivalrous act, and slipped her hand in his. Christian felt how small, very petite hands she had. They were cold, probably due to the low temperatures outside, but his were actually warm. While his hands were smooth and soft, she had a couple of different calluses here and there. She must have done a lot of physical activity before coming to Somerset. He wondered briefly if she had lived on some sort of farm out in California. But then he remembered where she listed her house, her high school, her community college, and knew that she couldn’t possibly have lived on a farm. Irvine was a quaint little suburb, and there were a couple of years the paper named it the nation’s safest city. It also had most arguably the best public schools in the country, and Maggie had attended University High School, most arguably the best in Irvine.
He looked at her with piercing green eyes and cleared his throat. "We should probably talk," he said.
--
Maggie felt her heartbeat pulsate in her ears. She held her breath, wondering if he could hear her, knowing he probably could. This whole idea was still entirely new to her. She talked a big game in front of her friends, but deep down, this was entirely too nerve-racking than she cared to admit. To have a vampire use her for food, for her blood, literally, was not something she wanted to ever have to do.
She had a scholarship and her grandparents paid for what the scholarship didn't cover - her dorm room, food, and her books. They died within months of each other after her
freshman year in college, and their money was still tied up in legal battles between her mom, her aunt, and her two uncles. Which meant she couldn't touch any of it until everything was resolved. She planned to get a part-time job but Maggie wasn't the type of student that could work twenty plus hours and get good grades. While good grades weren't exactly a priority for her, passing her classes with at least a B average was.
It wasn't until her uncle made the flippant comment of Maggie being a fang whore as a way to pay for her college - "at least that way she'd be earning her education rather than getting it for free," Don had said - did she even realize that that was an option. So she researched it via Google and signed up for it that night. She uploaded her best picture and wrote a completely off-the-cuff biography she could think of -
COLLEGE STUDENT LOOKING FOR EASY WAY TO MAKE FAST CASH. DISCREET, PROFESSIONAL, AND NEW.
She applied to three different agencies and got rejected only by one. The other two were top-tiered agencies that basically told her she needed to rework her biography if she wanted to stay as a client, but that her looks alone had won them over. Maggie was a little miffed that she had to play the game, so to speak, but she came up with the cheesiest, most ridiculous thing she could think of:
Biting my neck means biting my heart. I'm hard working, professional, and discreet. I won't tell your secrets if you don't tell mine. Looking for a strong, wealthy vampire to show me the ropes and help me really understand what it's like to be claimed. Let's work together to satisfy each other.
A week later, she had her first client. He called her in for an interview at his home - "completely normal," her sponsor assured her - and bought her exclusive contract, which meant her profile was pulled from Bite Me’s competitor listing and she made enough money to pay for college without her scholarship just by living and feeding a wealthy vampire for a month. And there was even a possibility he could extend that contract as well.
An Education in Scandal: A Somerset Novel (Somerset Series Book 5) Page 4