Calculated Coincidence

Twenty Two

LIAM SMITH

"I didn't know you had it in you, Smith." Hunter drawls.

His words don't surprise me, whenever I needed some dirty work done, he'd taken care of it. Now, I have done most of it. Why? All because of my love, and what that man had done to her.

After Hunter said he'd take care of things and I told him I owe him, we parted ways. Now, I'm making my way to my company's building.

I go through the back entrance, not wanting to grab attention with my bloodstained clothes. I feel relief now that the scum has paid for his sins but my shoulders are still tense. I hate being away from Alessia.

Walking into my office, I take in a breath. This is the only other place, besides my apartment, where I feel somewhat at home. Obviously not taking into consideration the woman who has made herself comfortable in my head and my heart, she is my true home.

Without her beside me I never feel at ease. I feel like a part of me - a big, crucial part of me - is missing. But with her everything seems different; more vibrant, more interesting. With her I am complete.

As I take a seat on the black, leather chair, the dark, wooden door opens and in comes Reagan. The woman of average height is professionally dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers. Her straight, brown hair in a long ponytail, as usual.

"How have you been keeping things going around here?" I ask my COO.

"The police have been asking for various footage and the Bratva has been once again asking for a favour. You know, the usual." She shrugs, still standing in the middle of the room.
Her posture straight, arms crossed.

A smirk finds its way onto my face at how unmoved she is while speaking of the Russian mafia. The young person in front of me is just bravery and intelligence shoved into a small woman.

"Ah, yes. And I presume you've informed them that nothing comes for free?"

"Naturally."

"Good work, keep it up."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll leave you to whatever it is that... you're doing." She quirks a dark brow at my clothes but doesn't question them.

I've worked with Reagan for a while now and we've learned a lot about each other. She's learned not to question the dubious way I go by the law and how sporadically my clothes are painted with crimson stains. I've learned not to question her skills and her.

Because my office is soundproof, the sound of her heels is gone with the click of the door. I take a look around my office. Overall it's very dark; the paint on the walls is dark, the wooden floor is also dark. The furniture goes with the floor, and the only other pops of colour are the gold decorations and plants.

The walls are covered with countless shelves full of books and segregators filled with documents. There are also cabinets with plenty of other things, such as spare, clean clothing.

When I'm changed into new clothes, I head out, making my way to the main entrance, passing by plenty of rooms and busy people, while replying to greetings.

Everyone is doing what they should be doing and being where they should be, like a well oiled machine. Just how it's supposed to be. Everybody working here is an expert in their profession and nobody allows themselves any mistakes - for a couple of reasons. Such as knowing that landing a job in Smith Tech is a one in a million. And facing an angry Reagan, for me is amusing... for others not so much.

"I'm not really sure what I should do..." My attention immediately shifts once I hear those words.
Two women are standing beside the cafeteria entrance, one of them being from HR.

"Yeah, it's a tough situation." The other says, pity in her voice, rubbing the arm of the one from HR in a comforting manner.

I make my way to them. "What's the matter?"

"Good evening, Mr Smith." They both say once they've calmed down from the surprise of seeing me.

I admit, I have been here less frequently but I can happily blame the fault on a certain, gorgeous brunette.

"Well, you see..." The troubled one starts, hesitation clear in her voice. "There seems to be a problem with one of the analysts. Um... There have been a few complaints now." Her eyes dart towards her colleague.

"Complaints?" I press.

"He appears to have a problem with holding back from... misogynistic comments."

"I don't see where the issue is?"

"Well... I guess some of us found his comments rude." The woman explains, taken aback by my question.
The two share a look, clearly holding back from expressing their annoyance.

"No. I don't see where the issue is with firing him." I clarify.

"Oh..." She searches my face for a second. "It's just that I've been hesitant because he is one of the best there is."

"I'm sure we'll find someone new." I assure, turning to head away. "Oh, and make sure to hire a woman." I add, feeling somewhat petty.

"Sure thing, Mr Smith." The women smile to each other, satisfied.

I keep my pace fast, eager to get home to my darling Alessia. Exiting the huge building, I make my way through the car park and get inside my car. Wondering what she's doing, I take out my phone and open the app which allows me to have eyes everywhere. I feel relief at her beautiful image filling my screen.
Staring at my phone, I watch as Alessia screams her lungs out to some loud music.

"I come home, in the mornin' light. My mother says, when you gonna live your life right?" She sings into a remote, pretending it's a microphone. "Oh momma dear, we're not the fortunate ones. And girls, they wanna have fun..." She sways her hips to the rhythm. "Oh girls just wanna have fun!"

Watching as her body moves, effortlessly erotic, my breathing grows heavier. For a moment I wonder if she makes every person who looks at her feel like a hungry animal or is it only me that she has this effect on.

"The phone rings, in the middle of the night. My father yells, what you gonna do with your life?" Her singing continues.
Despite my growing erection, I can't stop myself from chuckling. "Oh daddy dear, you know you're still number one. But girls, they wanna have fun..."

Turning my phone off, I turn on the car and waste no time, heading home to my beautiful Alessia. Some hidden, rational part of me knows that it's just a song but I can't stop the ugly beast from rearing it's head and roaring that no one but me is and never will be her number one. 

——————————————————————————

*author's note*

Reagan (Irish) — Little ruler