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"She's my guest," said Mr. O'Hara as he looked down at y/n.
Just moments before, while talking to some of the executive members in the entry way of the lounge area, Mr. O'Hara noticed a slight disruption in service at the host table.
Normally, he would not have been so occupied as to the matters of other's inconveniences, but instead he had become...angered.
As he turned his head towards their direction, his eyes focused on this familiar person who spoke to the hostess with an embarrassed-like, pleading look.
He then immediately recognized her.
He couldn't understand why, but something about seeing this look of worry against y/n's face, made him deeply uncomfortable.
Abruptly leaving his ongoing conversation without excusing himself, he rushed across the lounge while maneuvering through the crowd of people, reaching y/n just as she was leaving.
Once the matter of the guest list was settled with the hostess, Mr. O'Hara let out a hurried apology, explaining that the error with the guest list occurred because the invitation was last-minute.
"You don't have to apologize," y/n said with that soft smile of her's, as they walked together towards the bar. Over the last few weeks, he had found himself liking that very smile and song to her words... to his surprise.
As the two arrived at the circular bar at the center of the lounge, while awaiting their service, Mr. O'Hara looked at her curiously, slightly amused by her evasive, darting look.
"(Y/n), I should've been more organized and I take responsibility for that. But you shouldn't be so quick to overlook other's mistakes... especially if it affects you," finally catching her attention, their eyes held contact for a few moments, before she looked away again.
"I understand," she responded as though she had just been scolded.
Lowering his head slightly, he added, in a discrete, quiet tone, "and what did I say about looking at me when you speak to me."
Eye looking up slowly, meeting his, he couldn't help but notice the slight hitch in her breath.
"But you know I," pausing looking y/n up and down, while smiling to himself a bit, he continued. "I like what you're wearing," he said in his deep, husky voice.
"Really? You don't think it's a bit too bright? Everyone seems to be wearing darker colors. Really feel like I missed the dress code," she said, rambling on a bit.
"No, you... you look perfect." Quickly adding, "perfectly dressed."
Noticing she had become a bit flustered as her face reddened slightly under her brown skin, and her eyes fell again, she let out a sheepish "Thank you."
He wanted so badly to reach out to her small, slender hand, while caressing her cheek, whispering sweet nothings into her ear; yet all the while wanting to throw her on top of the bar, and ravish her as she moaned loudly between exasperated breaths, until her warm juices spilt all over his face...
