Miguel O'Hara x You | Silken Webs & Pirouettes

one

"Good. Turn."

The strawberry blonde with bevelled locks complies, adorned in curled tresses and lilac cloth. It inches just below her bum. A twirling starlet for his hungry eyes. She catches them in a quick glance as she rounds her turn. Oh... Never mind then, they're unimpressed. She halts.

"Did I tell you to stop?" His voice is firm, cold, devoid of any sweetness like the warm and awfully bitter joe her father drinks this time of year when the ground is colored cream and the snowfall kisses flushed cheeks. The southern drawl peeks through her sweet, mousy little voice to greet the man before her. The suit he wears today is far too tiny for the muscles laced into is carmel skin, just like the rest of the ones stuffing his closet full.

"Well no but... I only did cause I can tell you don't like it."

He raises a sharp brow, fingertip scratching at the fresh stubble greeting his skin.

"You're right. I don't... but that doesn't mean I gave you permission to stop."

Lacy turns red, and yet the doll gives him another turn immediately. His eyes fall upon her bum. It's small and shaped prettily. Petite like the rest of her. But this lilac, ribbon clad number isn't pretty like her. Not to his eyes.

"You look like a slut."

Miguel is bold with his words, never once allowing his brain a second to gloss them over with second thought. Pretty, poor little Lacy gulps. She is flushed again.

"Well ain't that how you like me to look?"

He stares for a moment, tapping his index against his chin. He blinks slow, and assess her words for a moment. Then he stands, no- he towers rather over her small frame. She would cower if it wouldn't make her look so pathetic in front of the man she loves. He walks closer, words lacing each step he takes.

"Men like to imagine what's underneath. Like a Christmas present, Lacy. No one gets excited when its already been torn open... unwrapped,"

She gulps, icy blue eyes raising to meet his as he finally reaches her. A warm hand, even in December's icy clutches, meets her face. So gentle for a man so rough with her in silken sheets. It's why, of course. Why she loves him, a thing he can never know. He would kick her to the curb, and that's even scarier than keeping it a treasured little secret for her and her alone. She knows this because of Amber, the auburn haired girl and Rowan... the other blonde. Only three of the dozens that whispered those dreadful three words and got kicked to the concrete curb. It's just sex, that's all it is and ever allowed to be. That's what he told them all from the beginning, so they should know better.

Yet even through following these cruel rules, smart, sexy lacy adorned in lilac knows much better. She pouts, pink lip fighting not to quiver at the thought clutching her frozen and cold. His thumb gently strokes her alabaster cheek, and she whispers.

"You're growin' tired of me, ain't you?" She whispers it like it's the most heinous thing a human could say. His silence, the gentle exhale of breath that she hears just above the mandatory office Christmas playlist humming very quietly behind his oak door, to his dismay of course, all of it confirms her deep rooted fear. But maybe? He parts his lips to speak, her hope sprouts like springtime flowers in snow. But then?

"Sir, excuse me but this is urgent."

He stares at his pathetic little Lacy for a moment longer, eyes still pouring into hers as he responds to the pencil skirt peeking through the oak.

"What is it, Cindy?"

She pauses, "Sir, Javi had to leave due to an unfortunate family emergency."

Lacy's eyes drop, another moment longer of this torture and she's certain to start watering up. The dormant space between his eyebrows is pinched, almost pitiful looking. Yet his thumb still grazes her soft skin. So capable of focusing on his torn open present and the pencil skirt all at once.

"Okay?" He sounds annoyed, and he is.

"Sir, he was set to interview the new hire today. She's been waiting downstairs for about an hour."

He lets out another breath, sharper and more poisoned with undeniable annoyance. His hand drops from Lacy now.

"Then have one of my many other capable employees get the job done, Miss Moon. It can't be that difficult."

She winces, staring at her cautious reflection in his shiny tiles.

"Sir, tonight is the company's annual white elephant, remember? Morale? Miss Drew is hosting?"

He hates this time of year, truly and utterly despises it. And stupid little Cindy Moon? He hates her too, right now. His index and thumb lift to pinch at the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Then tell the hire to go find another place to work. We don't need any more useless hands around here."

Cindy frowns at that.

"Sir, with all due respect, we really could use extra hands around here... s-she's been waiting for an hour and it's the holiday season, she left twenty voicemails in the past week alone. Besides, after Daily Bugle's smear campaign about the lack of morale here, we would be stupid to make more enemies for them to put under the spotlight."

He hates her more now, because she's right. Lacy's head is still bowed but her peripheral is engullphed by emptiness once Miguel leaves her, collapsing onto the Italian leather throne tucked away in is desk.

"The stupid music and blue elephant wasn't enough, huh?"

Cindy Moon, she is payed enough for this of course, yet she is still frowning nonetheless.

"S' white elephant..." she cautiously corrects in a near silent whisper. His chocolate eyes narrow as he looks upon the girl. Her rapunzel-like, jet black hair tied up in a neat bun atop her head.

A moment passes, then another. Her horribly true words echo in his mind on repeat until he finally gives in.

"Send her up in five, I'll handle it. Get Lacy's coat, have someone escort her to her car."

If strawberry Lacy's frown could be any more prominent, it would. Yet that doesn't seem possible. He ignores her well, stacking his scattered papers into a neat pile and shaking his head as Cindy leads Lacy out.

Then? He waits for the mystery girl waiting anxiously downstairs... you.