Assistant to the CEO

Chapter Twelve: Tonight in Paris

We sat in the car as far from each other as we could get in complete silence. I knew he wouldn't be happy about what I said, even if it did help. To him I had over stepped the mark. It was supposed to be about him impressing them, but me, and I may have stolen his limelight, and I don't think my recovery saved it either.

We still refused to speak as we stood in the elevator on the way up the penthouse. In this moment I hated the fact that we were sharing the hotel room, I should've insisted on my own separate room, even if it was tiny and crap, it would be better than this.

Stepping into penthouse, Clarke started to undo his suit. He took his bow-tie off and threw it on the lounge and then his jacket too and undid his cuff-links and then took his shoes off, which I knew made him feel uncomfortable all night long. I watched him, still standing near the door and I knew I had to say something, otherwise we'd be stuck in this tortuous moment forever. As I opened my mouth to speak though, Clarke stopped me.

"Don't," he said immediately. "I can't-."

"Can't what?" I frowned, stepping down. "Can't hear what I have to say?"

"You humiliated me," Clarke muttered.

"Oh, please, you were doing that all by yourself," I rolled my eyes. Well, there goes his chance of getting an apology. "You had no idea what she was talking about. You were standing there with your mouth open til I piped up."

"I would've figured it out, Rory," he said, still through his teeth.

"You wouldn't have," I argued. "You haven't opened the files she was talking about."

"How do you know that?" he said looking up at me.

"Because it was one of the last things your father worked and you still refuse to look at any of that," I reminded him.

He paused, I saw him grit his teeth together. I had learned his father was a sensitive subject but it couldn't be ignored.

"You think it's easy for me, don't you?" he asked me, standing up straight. "You think I really didn't care, you think I don't care about his legacy. You think I don't care what my father left behind?"

"Sometimes I do," I told him strongly. "I was with him for a while and I never met you, once, because you never came around, you had nothing in the company and you only do now because he's gone. I want to protect his work."

"Is that why you spoke up then?" Clarke asked. "You want to carry on his work and you think I can't."

"Maybe," I admitted.

Clarke shook his head slowly. "I can't believe you sometimes. You still think I'm not trying."

"Well after last night, yes, the doubt it still there."

"Do you think I would've asked you here if I wasn't trying?" Clarke said, suddenly with more rage than before, also stepping closer to me. "Do you think I would've come if I wasn't trying? I admitted going out last night was stupid but I was nervous and stressed, I needed something. I care, I cared about my father, and I loved him. All I'm doing is trying and you try and shut me down."

"You think I did that to hurt you?" I was almost yelling too. "I give you crap because I know you can do this, you try but not enough."

"Oh, so you're hard on me because you care?!" Clarke was yelling at me now, standing very close to me.

"Yes! Okay, yes! I don't want you to fail. I did it because I care! I got angry about you going out last night because I care! I thought we at least didn't hate each other for the minute and I genuinely wanted to help you because I care."