Twelve Days Of Smutmas - [Elijah Mikaelson One Shots] - COMPLETED

Clean Up In Aisle 69

"So, what do you think, Mr. Mikaelson?"

As the final slide of your power point presentation appeared on the screen, you dragged your damp palms over the peach wool of your skirt and hoped they didn't leave behind any evidence of your apprehension.

The clock on the wall read eleven, meaning the store had been closed for two whole hours now. You'd first clocked in at 9 AM, and were now on hour fourteen of your ten hour shift, thanks to the man sitting before you.

Elijah Mikaelson, the Regional Director of The Graceful Grocer, was your boss's boss, and unnaturally gorgeous. His dark, brooding features were enhanced by his model perfect bone structure, and his body was taut and muscular.

But he was apparently just as inconsiderate as he was sexy, because he showed up to your meeting three hours late, after demanding you stay and pitch your ideas to him that evening.

Elijah wore a distracted expression throughout your twenty minute presentation, and when you were finally finished with your speech, he appeared to be surprised. You began to wonder if you'd left anything vital out of the proposal you'd been slaving over.

"Mr. Mikaelson?," you repeated. "Do you think our store will get the expansion?"

He bit his lip and glanced down at the papers in front of him. With a firm shake of his head, you felt all of your careful composure slip away, the white hot rage that had been simmering beneath the surface, taking up residence instead.

"I am sorry, Miss Y/L/N. Despite your, uh, compelling presentation, I simply do not feel that this particular location is worthy of a remodel. Perhaps, with a bit more preparation, we can reevaluate with the next wave of expansions." He packed his briefcase and stood from his chair, just as you felt your last shred of self control slip from your grasp.

"You can't be serious," you cried, your voice shrill. "I've been here since nine this morning. I should be home, relaxing in a bubble bath with a glass of pinot, instead of coming up on hour fourteen of my workday. Fourteen! I've been working on this presentation every free moment for the last two weeks. And for what? So some stuffy, overgroomed asshole with a handkerchief can tell me it was all for nothing? Unfuckingbelievable!"

You grabbed your purse and coat, and strode over to the door of the cramped office that was awarded to you when you were named Store Manager, along with a dollar an hour raise, and three times the responsibility.

"I am finished. I've had enough of the arrogant customers, the meager paychecks, and the blatant disrespect from the higher ups that I've encountered since I've been promoted to store manager. So what if I'm a woman? The fact that I have tits makes me less qualified to run a grocery store? You, Mr. Mikaelson, and the rest of this soulsucking company can fuck right off."

The astonished smirk on his face was enough to keep the fire burning through your veins as you stomped down the stairs to the pretentious grocery store below. Blowing past the eight dollar organic apples and twelve dollar boxes of gluten-free crackers, you made it halfway through the lobby before you noticed you had left your keys upstairs.

"Of course," you whispered, when you realized you would have to face Elijah Mikaelson again.

Rushing back up the stairs, your heels slapping loudly against the linoleum floor, you took a deep breath before pushing the door open to face the man who'd angered you to the point of resignation.

He was leaning up against the wall, with his arms crossed, and a smug smile dancing across his lips. Your car keys were dangling from his fingertips, the golden dragonfly keychain dwarfed by his large hands. His eyes raked over you with a mixture of amusement and anticipation, as if he couldn't wait to see what you would say next.