Personal assistant

Sleeping beauty

"Seems like you need another latte, Miss Willows."

My eyes snapped open and I realised my head was on the desk. 

Oh my god, what if I was snoring?! That's so embarrassing, I wanted the ground to swallow me up. 

Sofia placed down a steaming cup in front of me as I apologised to her profusely.

"I took the liberty of getting lunch today since you were out cold," she chuckled warmly.

"Oh god Miss Bardot I'm so sorry, I'm always doing stupid stuff like that, I'll stay overtime today to make up for it."

"If you call me Miss Bardot one more time I just might make you," she winced, taking a sip of coffee and shuddering over-dramatically."

"You call me Miss Willows sometimes though?" I pointed out, leaning my elbows on the desk as I mirrored her, sipping the hot liquid.

"I," she taunted elaborately, "am allowed to do what I want."

I scowled at her and pouted, her usual laugh escaping through her red lips. She always sounded content when we spoke, and her eyes would never leave me for more than five seconds at a time.

I placed my cup back down and rolled up my sleeves, picking up my sandwich, about to take a bite when I saw her peering at my chest.

"What?" I tried, worried I had a stain that I didn't notice or something.

"You er... your button-"

"Oh," I replied, unbothered, and refastened it. I knew what she was talking about immediately because this shirt had a tendency to pop open slightly, being a little on the small side. The blush which crept onto her cheeks had now started to fade, because my cleavage was no longer exposed, but I was surprised at how much some uncovered skin could get her going. We were sat at my desk today instead of hers, considering I was too hungover to move, and I was grateful for that because it also meant I didn't have the sun in my eyes when I was trying to eat. The rays coming from the side gave her a soft glow, and she shook out her subtle bangs as I tried to understand how a woman eating a salad could be so tantalising to me. I'd  fully woken up after a few more minutes, and resumed my usual, witty flirting.

"Sergio is my new fave bartender yes," I answered happily through a mouthful of sandwich. 

"I'm glad you got a chance to meet, he only works three days a week."

"Well, I hope he's working again tonight."

"I'm going to be there too for about an hour," she threw in matter of factly, and I nearly choked on my sandwich bread. "Don't worry, you probably won't see me, I'm confined to my office in the back sorting some pay issues."  

I collected myself, trying to imagine Sofia at a nightclub, partying with other people in short skirts and tight tops. I ended up half turning myself on, half snickering at the idea of a drunk Miss Bardot.

"What's so funny," she smirked, as I tried to hide my internal laughter.

"I can't imagine you at a nightclub, it just doesn't suit you."

"I'll have you know I'm good company when going out," she frowned in response to my doubting. 

"Which is why you'll be the life of the party tonight then hmm?" I teased relentlessly.

"Get back to work Miss Willows," she joked, throwing her latte in the trash and swiftly standing up. 

"Uh oh, we're back to last names, I better move along." She shook her head at me, pointedly pushing my unfinished to do list towards me. I don't know whether it was the lack of sleep or the amount of coffee I had ingested over the last 24 hours, but the words looked like they were melting off the page as I tried to read them. Then I realised some of the writing was in a different language, and the jumbled letters were in fact gibberish to me. 

"Sofia," I whined, and she turned around with effort.

"What is it now?"

"I can't read this, my vision's blurred and also I don't speak Spanish or whatever this is."

"Spanish?" She scoffed, shaking her head and walking towards me.

"Are you sure you're going to be ok tonight? The paperwork would be immense if you died from alcohol poisoning in my club."

"Haha very funny," I grumped, and she bent down beside me with straight legs. Damn I'm glad I spritzed that extra perfume, she was so close I could taste the vanilla on her. She pushed her hair over to one side, releasing a new scent of strawberries which damn near put me in a trance. She was squinting at the paper and exposing her chiselled jawline to me. My head was turned towards her, absolutely raptured.

"It says D'Agostino," she concluded, turning to face me and catching my stare red handed. My eyes held hers steady, wondering how she'd react. I searched her face, but all I received was the sweet gesture of her lips parting as she let out a quiet breath. She held the small distance looking sultry as I sat there, desperately fighting every urge not to lock my lips with hers. As if reading my mind, she briefly looked down at mine, back up to my face and then smoothly continued in a low tone, "it's the name of my club manager." 

At this point I flushed scarlet, I could almost hear my heartbeat out loud and I looked down into my lap, tensing my jaw in angst. She pulled away with effort, and I instantly missed the static between us as she sighed, pulling her hair back onto her shoulder. 

"You've got to stop doing that." I heard her mutter under her breath.

"Doing what?" I enquired quietly, not even daring to make eye contact.

"The blushing it just... makes me think that you-"

"Delivery for you Fia," Rupert swaggered through the door. We sprung even further apart and Rupert looked at us suspiciously before giving me an excited glance and then leaving. Luckily Sofia didn't see the look on his face, I think she would have gone mental. Her attention reverting back to me, I was certain she was going to finish her sentence. After a short while, I realised the strategic businesswoman would not, and she turned on her heel, marching back towards her desk with purpose. Deep down, I understood she made the right decision, but there was a large part of me that needed her to finish that sentence, or I feared I wouldn't sleep thinking about what she was going to say.

She chuckled easily, shaking her head and pursing her lips.

"What?" I whispered nervously, unsure if her answer would tear me to pieces or confirm everything I had been feeling for the past week.

"Spanish?" She contemplated, flicking a pen between her fingers aimlessly.

"Well I don't know, I only speak one language. On paper, it all looks the same to me."

"Only on paper? If I spoke to you in my native language, would you be able to tell me what it was?"

I had detected an accent on her, most of the time she masked it incredibly well. I noticed she let it slip through more when speaking to people she was comfortable with. Her ease to switch between the accents meant I couldn't quite place it, but I was good at detecting words in other languages, I probably would be able to guess correctly at her little gamble, so I nodded confidently and waited for her to say something.

"Non riesco a toglierti dalla testa."

The words slipped off her tongue like butter, washing over me. My stomach flipped at the low tone she used when narrowing her eyes as she spoke. 

Holy fuck.

I crossed my legs, quelling my internal desire for the woman as her stare intensified. My knees pressed together, I didn't even need to think about it before I answered, I recognised the distinctive rhythm in which she spoke.

"Italian."

Her brow raised in a stunned silence, and she gave appraisal via a small nod. 

"Do you know what it means?"

I shook my head earnestly.

"Good," she smirked, and I returned it, allowing her to get back to the task at hand on her computer screen.