Betsy and The Beast

One (Betsy)

In the five years that I'd worked for Chapman Holdings, I'd never been officially introduced to The Beast. A.K.A. Anthony Chapman, CEO. Apparently, he got the nickname by being the biggest business shark in Tampa. Hell, possibly the entire state of Florida. Or so that's what the rumors told me. I didn't pay them much attention. I didn't even really know what it meant to be a business shark. What I did know was the man was gorgeous, beyond compare. He was tall. Six feet plus of delicious male, with thick dark hair, strong cheekbones, a natural tan, and damn, did he fill out his suits well. I could see where he got the name The Beast though. The man was never smiling. What was the point in having all that money and good looks, if you still weren't happy?

Me? I was terrible with money, but I didn't need much. I lived alone, in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. When I wasn't at work, I spent my time walking the beach or reading under a tree. I almost always had headphones in my ears, but I didn't always have music playing. I kept them in as more of a deterrent, to keep people at arm's length. I knew it wasn't healthy and that I probably needed counseling to work on my many issues, but it was working for me.

My grandmother had called me eccentric. Now that I was older, I figured that was her nice way of saying that I was strange. Who wouldn't be a little odd after what I had gone through though?

At the tender age of seven, my parents died in a house fire. Some freak electrical issue and they were gone within minutes. The only reason I didn't go up with them was because I'd spent the night at a friend's house that night. My only friend, actually; and what happened next? I went to live with my grandmother and my only friend forgot about me. 

Grandma was mostly great. She kind of marched to the beat of her own drum also, but she would never admit it. She died from a sudden heart attack when I was sixteen and I then spent the next two years bouncing around in foster care.

My foster family kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday; and it was on that day that I vowed I would live life to the fullest, but I'd never let anyone get close to me again. It was too hard to lose the ones you love. At nineteen, after bouncing around in homeless shelters while I tried to figure my life out, I somehow landed a janitorial job at Chapman Holdings. It wasn't exactly the best way to live my life to the fullest, but it paid well and let me afford my little apartment only a block away from the beach. If I was near the sun and sand, I was happy.

Chapman Holdings was located in a big, intimidating building, too many blocks from the ocean to have a decent view.  The main lobby was the prettiest part, in my opinion.  It allowed for a lot of natural light, with it's big front windows.  The marble floors sparkled in the sunlight, especially after a good cleaning.  The rest of the building was bland in comparison.  Plain gray walls, non-descriptive carpet in every office, and too little windows making it a depressing place to be.

Today was like every other Friday afternoon. By Friday, the other janitors and I usually had the ten-story building in tip-top shape, so Friday afternoons were the worst. The time dragged by and I only made it worse by watching that minute hand. To distract myself from the creeping clock, I cranked up the sound through my earbuds and danced my way across the lobby, shaking and shimmying to the beat. It wasn't a rare occurrence, my dancing. It passed the time, it brightened my mood, and it burned calories. Win-win-win!

I pushed the elevator button and waited for the doors to open, my hips still swinging to the beat. I'd head for the third-floor break room, I decided. That floor held the messiest crew, so maybe they'd give me something to pass the time.

As soon as the elevator doors rolled open, I danced my way onto the elevator and turned to push three, gasping at who entered right behind me. Anthony Chapman himself, looking more than sexy and a whole lot pissed off. I gave him a sheepish smile and received a glare in return. Fine, if that's the way he wanted to play it, I glared right back. He blinked in surprise and then pressed the number ten, as the doors slid closed trapping us alone together.

I tried to avoid looking at his reflection in the elevator door. I really did. It was just ridiculous how attractive he was. Unfair really, as nobody should be that good-looking. I found myself wondering what it'd feel like to run my fingers through his thick, chocolate brown hair. I pictured his piercing brown eyes narrowing to slits if I dared to touch him though. I, Betsy Solomon, was nothing more than a servant in his kingdom, after all. Ugh, that thought soured my mood.

Suddenly, the elevator jolted to a stop; startling me, so I threw my hands out to keep from falling. Of course, one of my hands just had to land on him. My hand gripped his arm for a moment, until I gathered my wits and snatched it back. I reached for my hip, turning off my music, as my thoughts tried to play catch-up. Touching Anthony Chapman had short-circuited my brain a bit.

Anthony cursed as he tried to place a call on his cell phone, without luck, before he reached for the emergency phone within the elevator wall. He spoke gruffly with whomever answered and then he slammed the receiver back into its cradle. I stood back and watched, waiting. He was so tense. A weaker person might have felt intimidated by him, but I wasn't. My gut told me that while he might screw you over during a business deal, he'd never physically harm anyone. I listened to my gut a lot. It was usually right.  Just because I wasn't intimidated, didn't mean he didn't make me nervous though.  Butterflies, like I'd never felt before, fluttered in my belly.

I sucked in a anxious breath when Anthony suddenly turned to face me. He looked ready to tear someone's head off and I was the only one present. While his gaze was unnerving, I refused to let him see how much he affected me. So, I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and met his glare with one of my own. At my reaction, his glare lost some of its heat. Then he sighed before opening his mouth, as if to speak, and that's when the lights suddenly went out.