Frankie's point of view:
"You look like shit."
I attempt to roll my eyes and hiss at the sudden sharpness that rattled my skull. I dab my redden nose with the tissue that was bundled up the sleeve of my cardigan as I sit down at my desk, kicking my handbag beneath. Jenny watches me with raised eyebrows and I wave my hand in dismissal.
"It's only a cold. Stop looking at me like I'm dying."
"Well you are resembling a corpse." She snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. I poke my tongue out, digging deep in one of my side drawers for throat soothers to help the burn. "Why didn't you just stay at home?"
"Since Alison's not coming back, and they've not found a replacement, I'm covering her job until they get one suitable." I tell her.
After discussing it with both Jason and David yesterday, when my cold was still lying dormant, I convinced them to let me help instead of putting pressure on another terrified intern. But when I woke up this morning with my head feeling heavier than a bowling ball and eyes stinging like they had been bathed in bleach, I suddenly regretted taking the extra workload.
"I can cover you." Jenny offers sweetly. "I don't have anything in until three. Plenty of time to do whatever you need me to do."
"I'm fine." I sniff, rubbing my itchy nose. "Though could to run these up to Jillian? I don't think I could handle the ride in that elevator, I might end up throwing up."
She nods, smiling as I past the envelope of papers over to her. "I'll bring you a green tea back."
I set my hand on my chest and over my heart, and she laughs. As she leaves, I press my fingers to my throbbing temples. I wrap my cardigan tighter around my shivering body, tightening my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering.
Thankfully I was on top of the incoming paperwork, both mine and Alison's. I roll my tensed shoulders, stapling the last of the papers together as the tingle creeps through my sinuses. My phone rings and I pray I don't sneeze to whoever was on the other end.
"Good morning, J.D Headquarters - Frankie speaking, how may I help you?"
"Miss Fields, may I see you in my office a moment?" His voice was raspy and suddenly my shoulders were tensed again. I nod absentmindedly, forgetting he couldn't see.
"I'll be just a moment, sir."
My legs wobble, with nerves or lack of energy I wasn't sure. The elevator ride I was desperately avoiding made my stomach churn as it jerks to a stop, my cheeks puffing out to stop me from vomiting over the red carpeted floor. Jillian was perched behind her desk, glasses on the tip of her nose and fingers typing rapidly across the keyboard filling the silent room with an annoying tapping noise.
"Mr Hayes' wanted to see me." I croak out. She throws a thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the hallway leading to the left. Awkwardly shifting away from her desk, I exhaustively drag myself down the empty hallway. There was black and white canvas' hanging on each side of the walls, perfectly placed and spaced out, and although they didn't exactly look like much, I knew they were costly.
How could a door be so daunting?
My numb knuckles tap against the polished oak and I hear his faint call beckoning me forward. The shiny gold doorknob was untouched and I was now scared to get my clammy hand print over it.
The carpet was white, the walls were white, even the seats were white but the view was incredible. Floor to ceiling windows were in front of me, almost making me gasp aloud at the view of Central Park and it was almost enough to make me believe it was some sort of hologram. His desk was glass like mine downstairs and it only held his computer, a few items of stationary and a photo.
He didn't take his eyes of whatever it was he was writing, so I clutch my hands and flinch as the heavy door clicks shut behind me. He still doesn't move. I lick my lips, feeling all ounces of energy that I had mustered up to get here drain from me.
"Take a seat, Frankie. You look like you're going to pass out."
I couldn't deny it, or take any time to hesitate. There was a small seating area just to the corner of the room, three chairs and a coffee table that displayed the latest Forbes magazine. I sunk into the seat, my muscles squealing in delight at the comfort. Finally he finishes, putting the pen back in the holder and moving his eyes up to meet mine.
"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" He asks, voice deep and dark. It made me shiver, but I blame this cold. "You could've took today off."
"I don't take sick days." I tell him. "It's only a cold."
"From walking home in the rain?" He questions. He stands, unbuttoning his suit jacket and loosening his tie. I gulp, crossing my ankles as I nod timidly. "This is why you shouldn't be so stubborn and ask for a ride when there is a downfall large enough to flood a small city."
I wanted to roll my eyes, but the ached. "What can I say - I'm independent."
He laughs, talking a seat in the chair in front of me. His tight and stiff stance now relaxed and eased. He takes a moment, skimming his eyes from my head to my toes and it causes me to shift uncomfortably. His eyes turned dark and I can see him bite the inside of his cheek.
I sneezed.
"I'm sorry!" I apologised quickly, cheeks flaming in embarrassment. His lips twitched in amusement as he reaches to the pocket hidden inside his suit jack and retrieves a tissue. I mutter a quiet thanks. "Did you need me for something?"
"Go home."
"Excuse me?"
Was I being fired?
"You heard me." He repeats. "Go home. You're not well, you barely have any energy to keep your eyes opened and every time you stand, you look like Bambi learning how to walk. Go home, Frankie."
"I'm fire, sir."
"Why the formal title all of a sudden?" He asks.
"It's a little bit more professional." I murmur. "I didn't think you would want me to call you Jason while we're in work. You don't let anybody else call you it, and I'm pretty sure I'm way less important than everyone here so it didn't seem right."
"You're not less important." He says. My stomach flips and I can't help but drop my gaze with flaming red cheeks. He clears his throat, leaning forward so his elbows rested on top of his knees. "Jillian has your work covered, all emails are nearly responded too, schedules are reorganised - you need to go home to rest."
"But -"
He stands immediately at my attempt to protest, his shoulders stiff and his chest slightly puffed out. "Let's go."
"Excuse me?"
"Let's go." He repeats. "I already had your stuff picked up from your desk by Harrison, it's down at the front waiting on you."
I blink at him, shaking my aching head. "Honestly Mr - Jason. I'm fine. I'll get over it, it's only a sniffle."
In the short time I knew Jason, I knew he didn't take well to people going against his wishes. His clenched jaw proved that he was completely dissatisfied with my objection. So I stand, legs and hands shaking, and walk in front of him to the door.
"You know," I interrupt as we enter the elevator. "I really am fine."
Jason was inches taller than me, at least five to six and that was with me in heels. He looks down, the corner of his peachy pink lips tipping into a smirk. For whatever unfound reason, my heart flutters like the butterflies that invade my stomach at the sight and I can't help but scold myself like a naughty child.
This was my boss. My boss.
He was right. My stuff was left at the desk in the foyer, everything neatly crammed inside my overflowing bag that was in dire need to be cleaned out. I shrug on my coat just in time as the cold air whips my skin.
"You said you lived in the same block as Jillian, right?"
"Jason; you don't need to dr-"
"Please - this is not the time for being, what's the word you used, independent?" He mocks, fishing his car keys from his pocket. "Look where that got you, all bunged up and feverish. Now get in, I know where to go."
"Wait, this isn't your car." I confusingly say as the lights to the sleek black Range Rover flash.
"Yes it is." He smiles. "This is my winter one."
| | |
My skin was burning, goosebumps erupting across my entire body. Why? I squirm, squeezing my eyes tighter. My neck was hurting, my spine felt tight but I was comfortable, and cosy.
Was that a blanket?
"Jesus you're hard to wake up."
All of a sudden, I was awake. Awake and alert. And very much snuggled in my bosses drowning suit jacket that was draped over my body.
That when I saw it. The reason why my skin was burning.
His hand was on my knee. Just resting, as casual and as normal as if he always done it. His tie was now off and his two top buttons undone. But his hand was still there.
"Sorry."
He frowns and it matches mine at the sudden change in my voice. Definitely more hoarse and croaky than before. He moves his hand and my body cools. My gut pulls, frantic to feel his touch again - to feel the warmth again.
"Don't apologise. You just dozed off, I didn't want to wake you so soon so I dropped by and grabbed some groceries. I was thinking, I don't know, maybe I could make you some soup or something? It helps."
This time it was his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. The blush burned across to his ears and he shifts nervously, nipping at his inner cheek. My heart warms.
"Only I assumed you didn't go grocery shopping yesterday and by your two take-outs, I'm judging you don't have anything suitable to cure your cold." He says quickly.
"You don't need too." I find myself whispering. "I'm sure you need to get back to the office."
He shakes his head. "I have no meetings today."
Lies.
I knew he had a meeting at one with Mr Moore about the chain of hotels across Europe, and I knew he had a follow-up meeting with Mr Hunter at four to talk about the latest development in the chalet's they were building in Switzerland. Why was he lying? He he actually want to be here, with me?
"Hello?"
I blink. "Sorry." I quickly remove his jacket, thanking him quietly as I grab my bag and exit his car that was already parked outside my apartment block. In sheer panic, I think back to this morning and what state I had possibly left my apartment in.
Hairdryer and straighteners, tidied. Kitchen, maybe the odd plate or cup. Living room, decent. Laundry, completely locked away in my bedroom.
"So Jillian lives here too?"
I nod, fumbling around in my bag for my keys. "Upstairs. Though, again, I don't think she is ever here because I never see her. She only comes back the odd day to grab clothes."
Please don't be a mess, please don't be a mess.
"Sorry it's so - uh, small."
His eyes wander around the new surroundings, taking in the charcoal grey walls and matching couch with vibrant yellow pillows to match the canvas above the TV. I slip of my shoes, kicking them beneath the coffee table and wiggle my toes, sighing inwardly in delight. He wasn't awkward or tense, but his hands was still in his pockets and he was still stood in the same spot.
"Uh - make yourself at home. Kitchen's, well, there." I laugh clumsily, nudging my chin in the direction of my opened kitchen. "I'll be back in a minute."
My bedroom was my safe haven, even when I was a child, and once the door shut behind me with my back pinned against it, I released the breath I didn't know I was holding. Jason Hayes, CEO of JD Headquarters and my very powerful boss, was standing in my apartment. My teenie tiny little one bedroom apartment that wasn't even sure was suitable to cater for two people.
I nudge the taps on my shower, desperately trying to freshen myself up before I grab the only decent attire I could find without there being a stain or rip. Gym leggings that were never worn outside of my home, and my dad's old motorcycling club jumper with the large logo embroidered on the back. My feet covered in fuzzy socks pad to the kitchen, following the sweet aroma of homemade food.
"Lord save my soul." I whisper, and thankfully it came out quieter than expected.
He stirred whatever content in the biggest pot I had. His sleeves rolled up to beneath his elbow but his shirt still neatly tucked into his trousers. He so effortlessly grab herbs and spices from the counter top, not taking a minute to look at the packaging before sprinkling it into the steaming liquid.
"It's not polite to gawk."
Shit.
I clear my throat, "Need a hand?"
He brushes his hands of pepper and turns to me, and it sends me into a scream of laughter.
There he was, Jason Hayes, wearing my pink and blue flower printed, frilly apron.
"It suits me, don't you think?" He grins. His beaming smile made his eyes twinkle and tears fall from mine, his hands make dramatic motions as he poses every-so-cheesy to model the apron that Flo bought me two Christmases ago. He grabs the kitchen towel, slinging it over his shoulder as my laughter begins to subside. "I hope you don't mind, I already started."
"What are you cooking?"
"Only the best Spicy Chicken Thai soup you'll ever taste in your entire life." He exaggerates. "It's the best for your cold and I figured, since you like spicy foods what with having two chinese's in the past two nights, you would like this."
I smile, my stomach somersaulting once more at his interest. He was a incredibly intuitive. "Really? And who may have created this ever so glorious soup?"
"The woman who I took everything after - my mom." He laughs, circling the wooden spoon back into the pot. "Every time I had the cold, or a fever, or even if it was just cold outside. She would make this. I used to pretend I had the flu just so she would cook it. She always knew I was faking, but she done it anyway."
"She sounds like a good woman." I smile. "Are you two close?"
He nods, "She's like my best friend. Don't tell my dad though, he believes it's him." I laugh. "She taught me everything. My dad is a business man, he was often really busy and away on trips most of my childhood so my mom supported both roles. She is amazing but good God, don't cross her. She may seem sweetness and light but believe me, crack that shell and she's like a fire breathing dragon."
"Charming!"
He laughs loudly with me. "You think I'm joking - I'm not."
"She couldn't be that bad."
"No?" He challenges with a cocked brow. "When I was in kindergarten, some girl pushed me to the ground I scraped both knees. She was sweet to the girl, but the mother on the other hand - Jesus I've never heard so many profanities put into one sentence."
I giggle. "She's just protective."
"Protective goes to a certain extent." He reasons. "From that day, she's always been so on edge with every girl I've introduced her too. Girlfriend or not. The day she met Jillian which was only a day after I hired her, she told Jillian that she was going home to polish the rifles. Rifles! My mom is five foot, never held a gun in all her life and she was pretending she was going home to polish them!"
My sides were hurting with laughter and I kept letting out the odd whine as the headache crept back, slashing my temple with vengeance.
"So, did she ever give you any advice on Natasha?" I ask, I knew I was touching a sensitive subject but he seemed more comfortable with my confrontations.
He chuckles, nodding. "Run."
"What?"
"You heard. She told me to run." He said. "She said run and never look back, because she was bad news. I guess I should have listened, huh?"
I smile sadly. "Lesson learnt?"
He laughed and nods his head. "Lesson learnt." His slight smile left on his lips made me wonder what he was thinking. Was he reminiscing as he cooked?
"My mom liked to cook too. She loved Thanksgiving dinners, even though we were a small family, it was all we ever needed."
He turns to face me, leaning back against the counter while wiping his hands clean. "Sometimes I wished it was like that, but my mom always needed to have a fuss around her. She always wanted to cater for everyone, never wanted anyone to be lonely on the holidays so I often found myself being forced into a room of relatives that I barely knew and who only ever wanted to squeeze my cheeks."
I giggle. "You do have squeezable cheeks."
What?
"Oh my god," I shriek covering my burning face with both hands as a chuckle shakes from the pit of his throat. He grabs two bowls, loading them with the gloriously hot liquid that made my taste buds water. "Ignore me. Please."
As he is about to hand me my bowl, he pulls it back slightly and grins cheekily with his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh I do?" He leans forward and my breath hitches, I hold back the splutter as his lips steady at my ear and his breath dances across my skin.
Help.
"Which cheeks?"
| | |
Thank every single one of you for all your support and love! Every read, vote and comment means everything to me! I hope this longer chapter makes up for the crappy last one.
Also a huge shout-out to the lovely smriti_menon for the sweet message that really did brighten up my day! I appreciate whenever any of you guys message me, I will always respond!
Again, please vote and comment xoxo