Flawless // z.m

Eleven.

Zayn's POV:

The car pulled up in front of Arabelle's apartment at 11 AM sharp. She was waiting outside the door like I had expected. The driver hurriedly climbed out of the car when she began walking towards us, and went around the back to open the door for her.

"Miss Samuels," he greeted, bowing his head with a small smile. 

Arabelle blushed and looked down, "Please call me Arabelle,"

The driver nodded again, "Arabelle," he corrected himself. I rolled my eyes and swiped my tongue over my lips as I scanned Arabelle's attire. She was dressed head to toe in black. Tight, black high waisted jeans hugged her curves and a black blouse with gold buttons was tucked into her jeans. She wobbled on her heels and fell into the seat beside me.

"Mr. Malik," she nodded, "good morning." She struggled to keep eye contact with me, her gaze flickering between me and the window behind me. I turned in my seat to block her view of the outside and dropped my hands in my lap, smirking a little when she smiled nervously.

I had to admit, seeing her squirm over something as simple as my gaze was quite amusing. It was amusing and... cute. Everything she did was cute.

"Good morning, Arabelle. I trust that you slept well?" I asked, a small smile gracing my lips. She nodded and looked away. I stayed facing her and hoped that she'd offer up some kind of conversation, but she didn't. I sighed as I turned to face the front again.

I remembered when I first got the call from my dad telling me he had found me a new assistant. I didn't even meet her, let alone talk to her before I decided that I hated her. My dad kept pestering me to find a new assistant soon and I told him that I would with my own time, although I had no intentions of doing so. I didn't need someone managing my life; I was perfectly content doing that on my own. My dad insisted that he was very good friends with the girls dad so it was no problem and that she was actually looking forward to working for me. That's when I decided I'd do anything and everything I could to make her quit.

When I talked to Arabelle on the phone for the first time, my dislike for her grew even more. She sounded so delicate and fragile that I was afraid to speak too loudly in fear that she'd crack. She had a bit of trouble keeping up with me in the beginning, but she managed.

It was when I first stepped out of the elevator and saw her hunched over her desk, scribbling down notes furiously that I knew I was fucked. She was a tiny little thing, her height barely reaching 5'4". If that wasn't enough, her hair was a soft brown that fell into waves that begged to be wrapped in my fist the second she whipped her head around to greet me.

"Sir, we're here." I was pulled from my thoughts by a gentle hand on my shoulder. I tore my eyes from the window and stiffened at the contact but relaxed when I met Arabelle's eyes. She pulled her hand away and inched away from me when our eyes connected. I followed her ungracious movements out of the car, chuckling to myself when she wobbled around in her heels.

The urge to protect her from the death traps on her feet was too strong, so I placed my hand against her back and steadied her. I sighed at the warmth. I kept my hand there, trying not to think of how nice it felt and pushed her along and into the warmth of the little Italian restaurant I had picked.

Coming here was a bit risky, I knew that, the driver knew that, the random people on the sidewalk probably knew that but I couldn't deny the good food. All the cooks being hired under my orders, of course.

The hostess guided us to our seats and I stepped around her to pull Arabelle's seat out before she had the chance to do so herself. I needed to use every excuse to get close to her like the night of Waliyha's party; and to be honest I hadn't planned this lunch as an "apology" it was more of a test to see how far I could go with her before she grew uncomfortable and blew up in my face.