The door slapped open at the exact moment. And it surprised Catherine to see him there. The man from earlier. She'd tried her hardest to keep a poker face on. She was a professional after all, and she had seen worse. It would not phase her. His smile vanished, giving her a piercing look that had her freezing in her spot.
Did he remember her? She doesn't have to contemplate that long for the answer since he took her grips and pull her in.” Why the hell are you here?” he exclaimed.
“I'm a...” Catherine stuttered. She would've taken up the challenge had he not been rushing. He grinned, slashing her off as she peeled her palms from his grasp. His jaw set.
“You work here?” Frowning, they both went into the table as Catherine brought back the brown manila envelope she'd forgotten from yesterday's meeting. “Yes, and can you please let me go?” She asked. She will not swerve like all the others. Looking at him closer now, without the wind and the rain obscuring his face, Catherine feels she knew him from elsewhere.
She recognized him from someplace, but for the love of God, she couldn't remember where, when, or how. Disappointed and a bit furious at herself for not recalling him.
Who was he? He was Sean David Walton, 30-year-old-Millionaire who owns the Lava soft. The company his Grandfather spends 18-years trying to succeed with and now has over 28 branches and over 120 hotels and offices all over the world. She knew this because she had done her investigation while waiting for the papers in the copy room. And for the facts, he looks rather familiar in any way was more frightening than having to drink a coffee without a lump of sugar in it. How could he be so perfect? She associated his physical characteristics with those of underwear model-kind-of-perfection. He was superb-looking and his general appearance was disarming. He's tall, has vast shoulders, ripped abs, a light dusting of chest hair complete with a happy trail, and well-endowed. His chiseled facial features were striking; firm jaw, smooth-sculpted nose, and a crooked smile finishing it with eyes a shade of blue-gray and a full head of dark copper strand.
He then moved closer, so close that she could smell the mixture of cologne and aftershave he was wearing.
Why doesn't she notice that earlier? He smirked down at her, “well sir!” she stammered. “What do you think of me now, Miss -I'm-running-late-, did I get your tongue under your throat?” He asked, snaking an arm around her trembling waist and pulling her towards his solid torso as she almost on the verge of slipping.
Catherine's eyes widened in shock as she felt her cheeks turned scarlet. “I'm sorry for hitting into you earlier on the sidewalk, Mr. Walton.” she stammered again, cringing her face back to put some distance between their close proximity.
Mr. Walton ignored her attempt to move away and leaned in that his lips were near her ear. “Where is that temper of yours, Miss-I'm-running-late-? Do I make you feel uncomfortable? Now that you know who I was?” He trailed off, he smirked.
"Or better yet, are you planning on writing your resignation letter?” He whispered as Catherine felt her throat go dry.
She scowled and opened her mouth to defend herself but remembers that he was after all the new boss, so she just nodded and turned around to leave. He grinned before dismissing her once again, leaving her so disturbed with his statement.
After two hours later, Catherine was swearing every known god on the planet for the existence of the being called Sean Dickhead Walton. Not only was the guy rude and arrogant, but he was also the definition of the man who knows it all. Overbearing self proclaims the god of all gods and goddesses. Zeus himself, But well, hot as hell nevertheless!
The meeting was indeed tiresome, and she zoomed out almost half of it.