Nothing Personal

:: 4 ::

Brent's POV

Wednesday morning at 8 am and I find myself parked a little ways from Sweet Delights Bakery on 22nd Street, currently thinking about a certain captivating 25 year old female.

Checking my watch, I notice that the time is 8:54.

6 more minutes until I'm face to face with this lovely woman.

I thought about her last night as I had a glass of Pinot Noir around 11. That long, brown hair and hourglass figure all fit into a slim black pencil skirt and a classy white button up with that small, round mouth that could probably work wonders-

Oh shit. Not another boner. Last night was just back to back masturbating in an attempt to sleep. This woman was running rampant through my thoughts- conscious and non- as my dreams became equally as X rated as my thoughts were. I barely slept last night. I woke up hourly because I couldn't keep it in my pants, and ended up rolling on top of my boner multiple times. How comfortable.

I had a pretty normal sex life. I was in no shortage of female attention, and yes, I would indulge in it, but I never use women. I will admit to partaking in the occasional one night stand, but sex with me is always consensual. In fact, girls throw themselves at me while intoxicated, and I, as a proper gentleman, see to it that they are escorted home safely.

The last time I had sex was 2 weeks ago with this woman named Natasha. I think we met playing pool. She had a boyfriend, I didn't care. It was rough sex, nothing special. Maybe I needed to get laid now,  get my mind off of everything, but for some reason, I was not going to be satisfied until I knew more about Aubrey. There is something special and unique about her. She is so beautiful and smart. She's smart! It's hard to find that combination in New York, let alone anywhere. Half the people in New York either want your money or your power; always looking for a way up. I've spent my entire life weeding out fake people and creating a tight circle, so how is it this random 25 year old has snuck her way in so quickly? She hasn't even signed the contract yet!

At that moment, my phone vibrated and emitted a sound alerting me to the time. 9 am on the dot. Time to go in.

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Aubrey's POV

The front door's overhanging bell was chiming consistently for the last hour. 7 am to 9 am is our busiest time, just as rush hour meant a No-Go-Zone on the interstate.

Given the constant flow of customers, I didn't treat the next one any differently, as I gave them our usual welcome while distributing money into the cash register, directing my attention downwards for a temporary amount of time.

"Welcome to Sweet Delights! What can I get y-"

As I finally looked up, I wish I hadn't.

There, standing in all his 6 foot something glory was the man of the hour, Brent Reynolds. I was temporarily stunned into silence.

He chuckled his harmonious, angelical yet manly chuckle once again.

"Hello again, Miss. Handler. Am I allowed to order something? Does this establishment permit that? Do you need a hearing aid, maybe?"

That should have came off as an asshole response, but it didn't. My God, could this man do or say anything wrong?!

Hey, he insulted your bakery, your pride and joy. All your hard work and everything you've built your life upon.

He's so pretty...

No, I won't be phased by his looks. I simply cannot be with a man who has no respect for what I do.

Damn, I hate when I'm right.

"Miss. Handler? Am I capable of ordering a simple dry cappuccino with 2 pumps of vanilla? Or is that too complex an order for a round a bout bakery like this one?"

Okay, asshole, calm down.

Snapping out of it, I was about to dish some sass. The Reynolds job was important to me, but I also had standards. Sweet Delights will always be a part of me. It helped me build up my life, and meet some of the most important people I know. My best friend Layla, for example, was once a customer here. She was a daily when I first met her. She would always order the same damn thing, no matter how many times I politely suggested she order something else; a cinnamon roll heated up with extra vanilla frosting, and a Caramel-Orange Sofrappe, a creation I coined which combines certain parts of soda, with the icy goodness of a frappe. It's not as disgusting as it sounds, which is hard to convince customers, which is why there are only two remaining flavors; the two most non-confrontational, the Cream-Cookie and the Neapolitan-Iced.

Enough about Layla, time to put a cherry on top of this sour dough.

Finally closing the cash register so I could get closer to the brooding male devilishly smirking, I said with an air of suave and confidence, "Sorry, sweetheart, but this isn't Starbucks. When you're being served, you're being served genuine, home-made food with nothing artificial but my smile right now. So no, you cannot get a "simple dry cappuccino with 2 pumps of vanilla." And may I say, what a manly drink Mr. Reynolds" Mocking his deep baritone voice and utilizing the powerful air quotes he used on me yesterday, not forgetting the sarcasm of course.

Suddenly his smile dropped. He turned around noticing the hold up he was causing in line, and swiftly apologized. He then leaned in and I swear his voice dropped lower than my panties.

After clearing his throat, he said, "Excuse me? How the fuck do you think you're going to get this job with an attitude like that? Tsk, tsk." He then returned to his original stance in which he wasn't leaning toward me, and it was at that moment when I realized that the counter was pushing into my abdomen meaning I involuntarily leaned into him.

Embarrassed and with surely a slight blush on my cheeks, I leaned back, holding on to every last word Mr. Reynolds said as it could easily make or break my future.

"When you are finished acting like a child, I expect a black coffee and a pastry at that table in 5 minutes. We can talk about a future at my company you may or may not have." He slammed down a 20 for an order of only 10, although I kept the change because I deserved it after being, and I use this word lightly, harassed at my own shop. He stalked over to, oddly enough, the same empty table I sit at after closing, just to stare at his own building.

Oh boy.

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What do you think? A mixture of POV's and a semi cliffhanger?

Unedited at 909 words. Song suggestions for this chapter??

**Note on 6/20/16- 1152 words, semi edited

**6/21/16- 1182 words, edited