The Business of Revenge

Third Time's Not The Charm

It was needless to say I was the pettiest person out there. After my revelation and psychoanalysis of Mr Emerson, how, it was his own guilt pushing him to do absolutely absurd things. I had marched myself into my office, and half slammed the door.

I couldn't commit to a full slam because you know it's glass, and I don't want to shatter something. Especially when that something is the only thing separating our two offices.

I was playing the silent game; I wasn't going to talk to him until he got his shit together and realised what an awful idea it was to test me like that. I'm a corporate assistant not part of MI-5, for goodness sake. I shouldn't be worrying about being tailed.

I was shuffling through the papers left on my desk. Some needed me to enter data into the unified cloud server that was fortified and held most of the clients' information. Though, Mr Emerson was extra safe with more sensitive pieces of data. Paper was always safer than anything electrical. It would be terribly difficult for a hacker to get into a stack of dead trees.

It became quite mindless, my hands on autopilot reminded me of my first job. Much like this one, I had been a part-time receptionist at a small solicitors' office. I did a lot of filing and entering data, and it just became second nature.

You know I'm really into the work, and in a whole other world when I start humming my favourite songs, beneath my breath.

I was so distracted that the slight hiss of an intercom and a rather gruff voice sounded throughout my office.

I literally jumped when a stern voice spoke, "Miss Laurence, I request your assistance immediately."

I got up and looked over at him. And sat straight back down.

I wasn't going to do anything until he apologised, for his insane behaviour.

I sat there humming, as though I couldn't even see or hear him, but I could feel his presence, eyes burning into my blazer trying to set me alight, send me to hell probably where he came from. He was devious enough I could tell, and I'd read somewhere that Biblically accurate angels were actually terrifying and it was the demons that stole the human essence that was breathtakingly beautiful just to lead you to your demise.

Not that Mr Emerson was breathtakingly beautiful.

He would lead me to hell though, that much I was sure of.

Another hiss and a click, "Miss Laurence, I need you here immediately,"

I was a terrible employee; I wasn't doing the main part of my job at all. Assistant to the CEO, probably means that I should, you know, assist the CEO.

I guess Mr Emerson didn't believe in the phrase, the third time's the charm.

I could feel the thundering of his steps, I could hear the swoosh of the door as he pulled it open, and I could sense the simmering rage that boiled beneath his skin.

"Miss Laurence, need I remind you of what your job is."

"To answer to your beck and call," I said bitterly, steeling my gaze, "Or be part of your games?"

I stood not giving him the chance to respond, "Twice now. Twice now you have put me in positions I never want to be in. Though it's all a part of your master plan. Isn't it? Yesterday when you just planned for my Ex to waltz in without asking me. What if it hadn't gone the way you wanted? What if I was triggered by his very presence, and even if you didn't care about that? Me having a breakdown in front of Niklaus wouldn't have aided your plan much would it-"

He opened his mouth to speak but I was far from done, "Then when I so kindly had the thought, you know let me get Mr Emerson and nice coffee, he had a rough night, even though I had rougher one. But no, you hire two strange men to trick me into thinking I'm being stalked. With no regard to how that might make me feel. You have no idea what it's like being a woman. That... that is a very real thing that can happen. We get kidnapped, maimed, murdered on a daily basis but noooo..." I stretched my voice out in a deliberately annoying cadence, "The plan must go forth. We must scare Andrea Laurence, even though we already scared the living daylights out of her last night. Two days! Two freaking days we've known each other, and it feels like a million lifetimes have already passed. Because I've sure as hell experienced more insanity in the past 48 hours than I probably have in the past year."

I had my arms crossed over my chest which was heaving with anger.

"Well-" my voice was sharp, cutting straight to the point, "What do you have to say for yourself."

His lips curled into a frown but this time it wasn't a distasteful one, more pensive and softer in ways I never thought would be possible on Corbyn Emerson who was all hard angular edges, high cheekbones a cut jaw, everything about him was so intimidating, but in that singular moment as my words seeped into his mind as he looked at me, the flushed red of my cheeks, my heaving breaths, he realised that maybe I was just a person under all of this bravado.

"Miss Laurence, you have my sincerest apologies. What happened last night will never happen again. And from today onwards I will be mindful of my plans."

"No." I asserted, and he looked as though I had slapped him in the face, "No you won't just be mindful."

I hadn't even noticed that I had stalked closer to him. I was inches away. I got a whiff of that cologne, but my anger was too great to be enamoured by pretty scents.

"You will include me in your plans. Because this is what this is. In this building, I am just your assistant. Everything that has anything to do with our revenge. That is where we are partners. Do you understand me, Mr Emerson?"

"Unequivocally."

And he put up no fight, though he did curve his lips back into that fraction of a smirk, "But as we are at work. And I have called you as my assistant. I do expect, as you so eloquently put it, to be at my beck and call."

I stifled a smile; I shouldn't be smiling as such a declaration, but it meant he agreed. Sure, I was nowhere near his level of authority at work, but behind the scenes where all the real work was done, that was where we were, unequivocally equal.