Elijah and Reader have a bet about who has more patience - and Elijah's suit tests the limits.
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You knew the moment he had walked into the room in that damn suit that you would lose.
You wracked your brain, trying to remember how the bet had even started. It was foolish, betting a man known for his control and composure that you could outlast him. If he was wavering at all, his collected and confident demeanor gave nothing away.
But what you lacked in control, you made up for in stubbornness. You decided right then and there you wouldn't go down without a fight.
"Gentlemen," Elijah greeted the room, the buzzing conversation dying at his arrival. His chocolate eyes scanned the room, barely grazing over you. "Miss Y/L/N," he nodded cooly, placing his hand in his pocket and glancing down at the files before him.
Indifference. Two can play that game, you thought. You swallowed, trying to regain some of your composure, grateful his gaze was trained on the paperwork in front of him. It gave you a moment to really take him in.
His chestnut hair was perfectly styled, and you bit your lip at the thought of your fingers tracing through it. Your eyes traveled downward. He was wearing a dark textured designer suit with a navy shirt that had you wishing you could tear it off of him. And that tie. The tie, maroon and contrasting so perfectly with the rest of the outfit. A gold fleur-de-lis pin sat in the center, keeping it perfectly in place.
He always looked good in his suits, but this one...this one was your favorite. It was everything.
Your mind strayed to the last time he wore that delicious suit...you wondered for a moment if he remembered as well.
The corner of Elijah's lip quirked up ever so slightly, and you clenched your jaw. He didn't even need to look up to know you had been watching.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
That arrogant bastard, you thought, clearing your throat and turning your attention to the board.
Elijah turned his attention as well, and began the meeting with ease, his regal voice commanding attention from everyone in the room.
You kept your eyes on the numbers in front of you, ignoring the way your skin heated under his gaze.
"Miss Y/L/N?" Elijah's voice pulled you from your thoughts. You jumped slightly and turned to look at him, your eyes meeting for the first time. "Where do we stand?"
You regained your composure quickly, turning your chair to face him head on. He remained standing, but you wouldn't let that intimidate you. "Sixty percent."
Elijah chuckled, the other men rolling their eyes at you. It was a boys club, but you could play with the best of them. You held his gaze.
"Sixty percent is unheard of," Elijah said, rubbing the tip of his thumb against his pointer finger. "Twenty."
