IN LOVE WITH THE FRENCH BEAUTY

~**~Chapter 1~**~

~*~*Chapter 1~*~*

Arabelle fidgeted nervously running her suddenly sweaty hands on her black fitting skirt. Nervous didn’t even cut the bill. She was petrified for reasons unknown to her. Ten people had been present for the interview and she was the only woman. The stares weren’t helping matters either. Men looked where she was patiently sitting awaiting her turn to be interviewed, and their eyes seemed to bulge out before they moved on. But not before she saw THE looks they sent her way: either she was brave or just plain stupid.

“A girl in the office?” one of two guys passing by her whispered. “A girl on Dahveed’s floor?” the other guy mildly exclaimed and they both visibly shuddered. The receptionist was a guy in his mid-twenties and impeccably dressed. He kept sending her weird looks as if trying to warn her of something but Arabelle couldn’t fathom this office weird behavior.

“You may go in.” The receptionist said pointedly looking at Arabelle.

She knocked and strolled into the office after a smooth ‘come in’. “Good morning, sir.” Arabelle greeted the man who was feverishly typing away on a laptop. The typing abruptly stopped and the man slowly looked up at her. His dark eyes hardened and glittered with rage. He abruptly stood up, toppling his chair in the process, and stalking towards her with angry and determined strides.

He was really tall, taller than average; his tapered black trousers emphasized his long legs and firm thighs, while his immaculately tailored suit jacket veiled horrendously broad shoulders. But it was his face that captured her attention. His hair was short and dark, with a few pieces curling waywardly at the neck. Handsome was a scarcely suitable description of the chiseled perfection of his features: the slanting, razor-sharp cheek-bones and square chin, the heavy brows arched above dark chocolate eyes, and a red, wide, sensual mouth. She wanted to die right then and there when she realized that she was staring at him while he’d been speaking.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” the man boomed and Arabelle snapped to attention.

“I came in for the interview, sir.” She said calmly even though it was obvious to both of them.

“Get the hell out!” the man bellowed and Arabelle blankly stared at him. Just what the hell was wrong with this beautiful man? She wondered.

“I said,” the man grabbed her upper arms in a painful grip, “Get out!” he tried to drag her out of the office towards the door.

“Excuse me! What do you think you’re doing?” Arabelle said wrenching her hands out of the dragon’s like grip. “If you don’t want to give me the job, then don’t! But please DON’T insult me!”

The man looked down his nose at her, disbelief and uncontrollable rage marring his handsome face. Arabelle gave him a taut and guarded smile before she walked out of the office. The receptionist gave her a sympathetic look as if he knew what was going to happen before she even went in. there was a long hallway before the elevator and she was fuming in anger and annoyance, at the same time dodging people who seemed to have so much to do and little time to do it.

Arabelle didn’t have a passion or a lifelong ambition to work for a fashion designing company. All she was gunning for was the salary which was three times more than she made at the little angels. Leaving the little one saddened her, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Not overly paying attention to where she was going, she missed bumping into a man with so many papers, and bumped with another one on her left. She dropped her portfolio and went down to retrieve it with apologies, but a set of hands grabbed it before she could get it.

The man opened it and read her resume, nodding his head in approval. Arabelle figured by his tailored expensive suit that he was an important man. When he finished reading her qualifications, he closed the portfolio and gazed at her.