The Enchanted Ones

Dinner

Everett

I can't fucking focus with her in here. I don't get why my dad wants me to get an assistant. I told him multiple times that I do not want a fucking assistant. But he did it anyway and it pisses me off.

Her too.

Heart shaped face, pitch black hair, big beautiful eyes, hazel ones. Like honey, fire and trouble.

Soft but hard at the same time features, plush lips. I don't even know how old she is. She seems young but old at the same time. Not that I care of course.

She carries herself like the place belongs to her, like she knows she steals all the glances when she enters in and is proud about it.

It was as stupid as it was impressive.

She must've felt me staring because she paused reading whatever she's holding and looked up, directly at me.

Why does she have to have those damn eyes? They are too beautiful.

I hate her.

"What's your problem?" She narrows her eyes at me. She tends to do that a lot, I guess she doesn't like me either.

Like I could care less.

"You."

A laugh escapes from her mouth and she bites her lips to shuffle the sound. She seems mad but she does not have the right to be. I'm the one that should be mad about this whole thing.

Actually, screw that, I am mad.

"If you're so annoyed by my presence, why am I still here?" She slams the paper she was reading and doesn't break eye contact with me while turning page.

"Ask my father about that, you're not here by choice." I do not break eye contact either and when I expect her to shut up and continue doing her thing, of course she does the opposite.

"Your father likes me. You're the one that seems to be so affected by me. Tell me, am I that much of a distraction?" She smirks and I drop whatever I was holding, stand up and walk closer to her desk.

I lean on it, staring down at her, "You're not a distraction, you're insufferable."

She also stands up and leans on the desk, making our faces really close. I look down at her and I have to stop myself from making scenarios which I would eventually regret.

"Well then you have to accept that you're stuck with me, Everett."

Fuck why does she say my name like that? Our faces are inches apart now, both glaring at each other.

"Are you not even going to ask my name?" She tilts her head a bit and I look away, smiling playfully,

"I don't fucking care what your name is."

"Winslow Ambrose." She steps back and motions her hand in the air for me to shake it. At first I wasn't going to but honestly I don't know why I did.

"Everett Levan, most people here call me sir, not by my first name." I shake my hand with hers a little too hard but she doesn't flinch or do anything. Instead she smiles and says,

"Chill a bit, have you never shaken hands with people you work with?"

No? People just come to me, work for me and fear me enough to not do anything stupid. Her on the other hand, is the complete opposite. I hate stepping out of my comfort zone. She makes me do that.

I hate her.

"Don't have anything to say, sir?" She mocks. God why is it so hot in here?

"Get back to work, Winslow." Her name on my tongue felt weird.