My Little Cousin Was Born Blind. As A Result, I Now Donate A Considerable Sum Of Money To A Charity Which

My little cousin was born blind. As a result, I now donate a considerable sum of money to a charity which gives dogs with eyes to blind Jews. The chairman of the board recommends that those of us who were blessed with the gift of sight, and that we spend, you know, at least half an hour a day with our eyes closed so that we may better understand the...well, the darkness, and um...also to increase our donations and that. What time is it? Twenty-nine minutes past eight. Peaky Blinders | 4x05 The Duel

Lost On You

Robert Fischer x Reader

PART 1

6.5k words

A/N: sorry it took so long but it's here, life's been busy! The story will be written in a little different style, as I got inspired by old English novels. The point of view will be switching frequently to give a bigger outlook. Let me know what you think!

Money. They say it's something acquired and that it doesn't bring happiness, but ninety eight percent of your living doesn't come from nowhere, right? We don't get to choose workplaces based on wellbeing or fun, at least not everyone has the privilege to do so. Money. Nothing else would keep me here for so long, Y/N thought.

She couldn't help but ponder on her choices, driving in an automatic state of mind, doing it out of habit and barely paying attention. It's a surprise that I never crashed, the woman thought to herself chuckling under her breath.

Glancing at the buildings and, still sitting behind the wheel of her car - a white, six-year-old Honda Civic, as she asks herself every morning: Why do I still work here? Why do I get out of bed every morning, ten minutes before my alarm, when I'm already losing to time every single day, stuck in traffic jams and still being late almost everyday? Why have I been doing this for three years instead of two.. at most?

For money and practice, that's obvious, her own, bitter at times mind replies with slight annoyance.

This is the third year of her toiling at Fischer Morrow and Y/N had no idea how time has flown by so quickly. At the age of twenty-three years old and since she started college, FM has been her first and last place of employment. She got a paid internship in October of her first year, which seemed too good to be true. Yet here she was. Honestly? It wasn't a feat or success at all, and Y/N only understood that with time. Her raging headache was slowly growing with each thought crossing her mind. It was.. a daily thing for her, her mind being on overdrive.

For centuries, there has been a belief at all types of universities that freshmen never get internships, however, this is just not true, not entirely because the truth lies somewhere else. They don't get internships because they DON'T WANT them. Yes, they don't. It's a pain in the ass. First, you have to prove yourself to get one, and then you have to immediately approach everything very seriously and for little to no money.

You have to be responsible: don't waste your weekends partying. Your mind needs to always be focused on studying and working. That's why it's better to start later. There's time for everything in life, and instead of partying, meeting people, and enjoying student life, I got busy working. I take it seriously. SERIOUSLY.

However, not everything is so bad. Over time, such actions bring tangible benefits. I have more experience than other students and I know that I will have no problems finding a job. But I also have a good salary: better than if I interned at any competitor company. FM pays me more than students are usually paid, and the salary increases with the duration of the internship, so after almost three years… I was fine. Just fine.

I'm renting an apartment of my own, I have my own “almost new” car, and well. I never need to borrow any money from anyone. It's a bad habit that I absolutely don't want to ever have.

So what keeps me going here is fucking money, Y/N eventually decides as she gets out of the car, shutting the door close and wrapping the coat around herself a little tighter, since the weather wasn't the dreamiest. It was autumn after all.

Walking through the company parking lot, she made her way towards the main entrance. Her clicking heels were the only sound around besides the raging wind. As she passed through the door, she saw a very familiar woman.

Vicky, was sitting by the receptionist desk writing something down until she heard the door swinging open.

Vicky looked up to see Y/N as she lightly smiled. Her makeup was a little too intense for the workplace, but it had become what she was known for. People liked to talk about Vicky in less flattering ways than necessary, which… maybe was another reason why Y/N grew to like her so much. Going with the flow tended to feel like an itch and, well, who liked that damn nagging sensation? Nobody. Clearly.

“Early as ever” The redhead said with a chuckle, her bold-red lips stretching into a smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes with a sigh, raising an eyebrow.

“...and good morning to you too. I guess” She replied, smoothing out her hair, which of course didn't want to fully lay down, slightly waving at the ends. Y/N leaned slightly over the desk. “Is the witch here already?” she asked in a quiet tone, looking around to make sure nobody caught her words.

“Which one? There's plenty” Vicky whispered back with a chuckle, seeing the unimpressed look.

Unable to contain her laughter, Y/N covered her mouth to make the snort she let out as inaudible as possible.

“The Italian one” She replied.

The Fischer Morrow company is owned by Italian-American entrepreneur Maurice Fischer. In order to work there, you need to constantly improve your language skills. Knowledge of Italian was one of the criteria to receive the internship. Even though I'm only an intern and my Italian is at a high level, I also have to attend lessons once a week. They are paid for by Fischer himself. This is another bonus of interning or working for this company in my opinion.

Free Italian language lessons. If only the Italian teacher wasn’t so terrible.

“Girl, I'm a receptionist. How am I supposed to know?” Vicky says with a sigh, followed by a shrug. Obviously she was disappointed with how little people in the company communicated with her despite being the first point of contact for anyone who entered Fischer Morrow. She was a little nosey by nature.

Y/N sighed deeply before straightening her back, grabbing her purse, and heading to the elevator with a heart pounding in her chest. She loved the Italian language, but simply despised the current teacher.

She's demanding and bitter, plus treats me like a fucking ten year old. She tends to leave us homework, which I rarely get on time because of the amount of work I have. She's thrilled every single time, needless to say.

“Y/N!” Vicky yelled out, as she rushed towards the closing elevator doors, managing to stop them on time with her arm. “You-know-who is calling us to the conference room. Not only us but most departments.” She said, trying to catch her breath in the meantime.

“What for?” Y/N asked with surprise.

Mr. Fischer was not someone who'd usually make announcements. He was demanding and reasonably kind but his expectations towards his workers were always high. Whether anyone liked it or not, he'd make a drastic change and expect people to get used to it immediately.

“Who knows, but… I'm telling you in case.” She said, giving Y/N THE look.

She immediately understood, nodding gracefully and letting out a deep breath as the door closed.

Walking through the corridor, Y/N noticed several workers heading IMMEDIATELY to the conference room.

That's sooner than expected, she thought with a sarcastic chuckle.

Caroline, the head of advertising, walked like she owned the whole building in her obscenely high heels, barely keeping from breaking her ankles as her hips swayed beneath the tight skirt.

Oh my fucking god, please not her. Anyone but her.

“Hey, Y/N” She said in a fake sweet tone that made Y/N contain an eyeroll. “Did you hear that we all have a meeting? I wonder why. Maybe something happened? Maybe I will get a promotion?!” She started babbling without giving her colleague a chance to speak at all. It wasn't anything new about her, that's just the way Caroline was.

“What's that?” Y/N asked, pointing at the hard cover in Caroline's hand, trying to smoothly change the topic.

The taller woman glanced at her own grip, like she didn't know herself before smiling once again.

“Oh, it's a calendar. I thought that I should look, you know, busy and smart since Fischer will be there.” She explained with such pride, causing Y/N to internally cringe.

Oh god, I sighed inwardly. Not that I consider myself an expert on human behaviour, but this is probably way beneath my dignity, or I haven't soaked the corporate dress code in yet.

“He'll probably start whining again and ask obvious questions.” Y/N murmured under her breath, barely listening to Caroline and Marie, another department head, who suddenly appeared by her side.

With a fucking calendar tucked under her armpit.

They immediately started talking about Vicky from the reception, feeling the need to comment on everything about her, apparently.

The boss always asks strangely simple and at the same time uncomfortable questions. He is an old-school man and often does not understand what we do. You need to explain to him the mechanisms of how some of the departments function and, despite appearances, this can be difficult. Caroline can't recall the details in her head, and Marie, in turn, can't explain how it works. That's probably why they work together. They must complement each other. But this is not a reason to discredit the boss. He wouldn't be where he is today if he weren't smart in some way? Right? Or maybe it's just my naivete, because when I look at my colleagues who pretend to be professional, hold old calendars in their hands and call the reception girl a plastic doll while holding high positions, I start to doubt it. I have the impression that the higher the position in this company, the worse the intellect and intelligence.

“But you like her, right Y/N? Can't blame you though, coming in late so often and knowing the receptionist well enough to make sure she doesn't tell on you must come in handy.” Marie said in such a fake kind way that well that annoyed Y/N more than she'd like it to.

It was supposed to sting and it did, but Marie is not my boss and all she can do is talk. I have nothing against her, but her fanatical approach to work can be tiring. Marie doesn't understand that not everyone finds her job the love of his life. By the way, I wonder how her husband feels in this arrangement, knowing that she is cheating on him with her job

Even our boss, whom I hate as much as the Italian teacher, isn't that fanatical. Another witch. My nemesis.

Katherina

She is mean and annoying, but at the same time has a lot of knowledge and experience. Sometimes a nice word will slip from her lips but it barely comes out of her throat, accompanied by THAT grimace and her praise sounds artificial from ANY distance. She doesn't have a sense of humour and is a cunning bitch. Calculating like no other and often ruthless. She always gets what she wants, and is one of the people who have the ability to approach the CEO and talk about budget in such a way ensuring she will always get the largest of all departments. Katherina is a real business bitch.

“Let's just get going” Y/N said, ripping herself out of the thoughts, turning around and slowly walking into the conference room which was by now filled with people.

We took our places by the humongous table in the middle, impatiently waiting on what was to come.

Everyone wonders what this meeting is for and quiet whispers fill the room. However, when Mr. Fischer appears with a serious face, everyone falls silent. We know right away that what he wants to tell us will not be pleasant.

Our boss is an older and slightly mannered man, with a specific sense of humour. Always dressed in a suit and a white shirt, he creates an aura of inaccessibility around him and immediately, at first glance, commands respect.

I don't like talking to him in private, although he once mentioned that he likes me and even loves my work style. To this day, I don't know how he knows what I'm doing, but it’s not important. I guess he wanted to let me know that he still has his finger on the pulse of even the smallest details.

I must admit, it's very encouraging to hear such praise from the CEO himself, but I still don't like talking to him.

The older man sits down in his usual seat and opens his notes. He looks up at all of us and sighs.

“Ladies and gentlemen” He begins almost like he was starting a holy mass in a church, and as if by an innate reflex I want to fold my hands in a prayer, even though I am not a Christian by any means. “...because I wanted to inform you that I will soon be planning to retire…” he finishes the first sentence in a weak tone, and the whole room is filled with a murmur of quiet conversations and surprised voices.

“Yes, yes, I'm so old that it's time to get going..” he adds and laughs briefly, while no one else has the courage to do so. “...and you're probably wondering who will take over the position in our company after me, well... “ He makes an appropriate pause to build tension.

“My older son Robert is coming back to us.” he finishes, and the room begins to boil, but not from words, but from employees squirming in their chairs.

They all look at each other as one and hear single words of surprise. The faces of some of them are not very optimistic, not to mention disgusted, but the boss quickly silences the noise with a loud clearing of his throat.

“...and although I know the circumstances in which he disappeared from the company, the most important thing now is that he returns and will take my position, but only in a few months, when I will re-implement and improve his training" he adds, and my thoughts wander towards my first days at work.

Despite the lack of interest Y/N had in the topic of Mr. Fishers’ son, she got an earful of it on her way back to the office.

Quiet conversations filled the corridor as people whispered about Robert Fischer, who apparently got kicked out a little time before Y/N got the job, so they never met. Not that she regretted such a sequence of events, as he sounded like an immature person lacking professional approach in work, and having more interest in women. Not the best colleague to have around.

Not long after, Maurice Fischer sighed deeply, gesturing to us that we could leave, so without waiting, Y/N made her way out of the crowded room. Ignoring Caroline's voice calling her name, she made her way through the corridor and chose the stairs instead of the elevator this time. It was faster.

Closing the door behind her back, Y/N closed her eyes for a second with a sigh, feeling relieved. Finally peace.

Sitting in her chair, she fixed her hair with a swift movement, putting it in a neat ponytail as her phone rang.

Deep sigh pushed past her lips once again, as she saw Maurice Fischer's name on the screen.

“Yes, Sir?” She responded in a professional tone without missing a beat.

“Y/N can you swing by my office in twenty minutes? I'd like to discuss something.” His voice was tense, and it didn't sound very promising.

God, I hope I didn't fuck something up, she thought.

“Of course. I'll be there, Mr. Fischer.” Her eyes shifted around the desk as she nodded unknowingly, before putting the phone down with a click.

Now, she was stressed, but it didn't mean that she could get away with the work that was waiting.

Without wasting another minute, her fingers started pressing on the keyboard at a quick pace, filling up the documents from her files, making sure no mistakes were made.

Twenty minutes passed sooner than she'd wished for them to, and soon enough Y/N was quickly walking through the corridor, holding tightly onto the file and her phone, typing away email after email before a certain impact caused her to almost drop the phone on the ground.

With a gasp she looked up, seeing a… young man with brown, neat hair and piercing blue irises.

His eyes widened for some reason as he let out a gasp.

“Katherina?” He said in a low, raspy voice which was filled with… something that Y/N couldn't quite put her finger on.

Quickly fixing up her facial expression, she cleared her throat, slightly shaking her head.

“No, no… I'm Y/N. You must have taken me for someone else.” Her voice was confident, not showing the confusion in the tiniest bit. Chin raised proudly, as she didn't shy away from eye contact, bravely grazing into his eyes.

The man blinked a couple times, sizing her up before letting out a breath as he nodded, smoothing out his suit jacket.

“Forgive me, it's… my first day today. I must have been a little confused.” He said slowly, carefully choosing his words as he straightened his back. Buttoning his jacket up one button higher, he stretched out his hand towards Y/N.

“I'm Enzo” His voice was smooth like butter, which already caused Y/N to… dislike the man in front of her.

Nevertheless, it was only proper to shake his hand in such circumstances.

“Y/N” Her voice came off kind but distanced, showing off how disinterested she was in having any longer conversations. “Unfortunately I'm in a rush, so I must go. I hope the rest of your day will pass with… less confusion.”

After the words left her mouth, she passed by him like a wind, leaving behind a trail of perfumes in the air and smirk on his lips. She seemed… challenging.

***

When I reached my floor after meeting the boss and went into my office, the girls almost immediately showed up right after me.

“So what did he want? What did he want?” They asked one after another.

“Nothing, he asked about my Italian classes.” I shrugged and they looked at me like I'm an alien.

“About Italian?” Caroline asked, slightly… deflated and confused.

“No way,” Marie murmured with annoyance.

Of course they immediately sniff out gossip.

“Yep, he asked how my teacher is and that's it.” My voice slightly bored as I looked at them, silently wanting them both to leave.

They fell silent and glanced at me and then at each other.

“Weird” said Caroline, and began to think hard about something. Still in my office, if I may add.

“Weird,” Marie repeated after her.

“So, what do you think about this Robert guy coming back?” I'm asked, because Marie and Caroline have been working here longer and probably knew him.

“Oh come on, did you see how all the girls started drooling?” Caroline asked with a smirk followed by a chuckle.

“Well, I saw what a stir it caused.” replied, sorting out the paper sheets on my desk before looking up. “That's why I'm asking.”

“He’s a womaniser, a rake, and quite the seducer,” Marie said confidently.

“Not you saying that! I thought you two were friends!” Caroline imitated her and nudged Marie in the arm with a loud giggle, covering her mouth like a schoolgirl.

“Oh come on, we had lunch together in the community kitchen because he happened to come by, and now you're saying we were friends.” Marie said indignantly with her brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Admit it, he was hitting on you” Caroline laughed at her.

"You're stupid," Marie continued grumbling and stuck out her tongue, laughing teasingly, "Admit it, you were the one who had your eye on him."

“Stupid, I've already been with Tyler, come on, stop talking nonsense, I don't want such insinuations” Caroline said, becoming more serious as her eyes widened, shifting between me and Marie.

“Okay” I said to end the argument. “I still don't understand the Robert phenomenon, can you explain it to me?”

“The Robert Fischer phenomenon cannot be explained, you have to see it yourself” Caroline stated and waved her hand at me with a smirk. “It was enough for the boss to say his name and you saw what was happening in the room?” She pushed further, proving her point.

I just nodded my head in the affirmative and Marie quickly filled in the rest.

“All the girls get wet when they see him, at least the ones who remember him.” Marie said quieter, leaning towards me with her eyes widening.

“Well, he's that handsome? Charming?” I ask further, getting slightly frustrated with not understanding the big deal. There were plenty of handsome men working in Fischer Morrow.

They nodded affirmatively, shrugging lightly. “The CEO mentioned that he's his older son, which means he has a younger one too, right?” I asked.

“Oh, yes” Caroline sighed and waved her hand dismissively “Enzo is even more of a freeloader than Robert. He studied at the Academy of Fine Arts.” She responded, and… that was all I needed to know.

“Oh no” I dramatically stuck my hand out with a chuckle.

“I guess I don't have to tell you what kind of guy it is” Caroline winked before starting to laugh.

“No, no, thanks,” I shook my head disapprovingly.

My brother also studied at the Academy of Fine Arts and although I love him more than anything in my life, I know exactly what kind of person he is. He lives for alcohol, parties and has no principles. He gets up when he's had enough sleep, talks to people when he thinks he needs it and doesn't care who he sleeps with. Only art resides in his heart and next to it there is no room for any woman or man - if he were gay, which he isn't - but there is plenty of that room in his bed. Every night. For any pretty girl he sets his mind to. A typical visual person. He likes big tits, blonde hair and a bit of weirdness. The last girl he spent the night with in my apartment had half of her body tattooed. He is fascinated by tattoos.

In one word: Artist.

Caroline and Marie laughed loudly, leaving my office, and I sat down at my desk, the topic of Robert Fischer and his little brother no longer interested me.

I turned on my computer and started replying to a dozen or so emails and that's how I spent the rest of my shift.

***

Coming in another day wasn't easier at all, the weather getting WORSE, causing Y/N to give up on wearing heels that day, as she preferred to keep her legs intact rather than get hurt.

Walking into the building, like always, she looked around for Vicky who was sitting by the desk.

“Y/N!” She hissed suddenly.

"What?" I asked surprised, coming up closer to the desk as I set my purse down, looking for a hand balm.

“Witch” Vickie replied and grimaced as she did so, letting Y/N know that the teacher was already impatient and annoyed because of her being late and that Vicky had no idea what the other woman was doing here.

When sudden realisation hit, she barely restrained herself from hitting herself in the forehead.

“God! Wednesday!” A panicked whisper pushed past her lips. “I have Monday's Italian lesson due today. I completely forgot. Please, occupy her for a second.” She whispered pleadingly and still almost silently, knowing that the door to the room where the teacher was was open and that she could probably hear the conversation if she tried hard enough.

“Okay” after a minute of silence Vicky gave her a nod “...but hurry up. I don't want her to turn me into a frog.” She snorted a short laugh and covered her mouth with her hand.

“I'll just take my jacket off, and open my office. Then I'm ready.” Y/N replied again quietly and ran towards the right office wing.

She quickly stripped off her coat and grabbed the notebook and pen, hurrying back to the reception desk. Just before the door to the hall, she smoothed down her black dress, hair and entered quietly.

“Buongiorno” She greeted, but to her surprise, there was no one inside. Looking around and coming in deeper only did I notice them.

At a small conference table she was sitting accompanied by the guy I bumped into outside a few days ago. The handsome, very much my type, weird Enzo.

Taking advantage of the fact she was still not visible to them, Y/N smiled lightly to herself, a shiver running down her spine.

I wonder what he's doing here? She thought.

Both of them, busy talking, barely noticed Y/N’s entrance, especially… older teacher. If she could, she would melt under the pressure of his gaze, like ice cream in the sun.

It wasn't surprising seeing the effect he had on most women, but the situation was embarrassing to say the least, because she was about twenty years older than him.

They only stopped their oh-so-nice chat when Y/N cleared her throat and sat down at the table.

They both looked at her, the woman with distaste, and Fischer in a way that made Y/N feel like she was completely naked.

“God, Mother Nature or other creator of all existence, what a look!” She thought to herself before wondering more and more intensely what the boss’ younger son was doing here.

“Buongiorno,” the teacher greeted finally, while Enzo only started looking at the younger woman even more insistently. Sigh.

I glanced at him. He was dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, sitting squarely across from me, with his legs crossed, his ankle resting on his knee. He was looking straight at me the whole time. A shiver ran down my spine again and I couldn't stop or resist it in any way. His gaze so insistent, but also… intriguing. He was clearly the type who knows exactly how to look at a woman to intimidate her. My gaze shifted at my notes, as I started trying not to glance at him again.

I felt a little embarrassed and completely intimidated. I immediately remember the warmth of his hand and his smooth voice as I saw him the last time I saw him. It was a nice thought.

No matter how hard I tried, I could still feel his eyes on me. I knew he was staring at me, but I almost never let myself get provoked so I tried not to glance or show him that his gaze had any effect on me.

Turned out that the teacher noticed it as well and was.. probably jealous of his attention? This whole situation was so odd, that I had no idea what to do.

The older woman straightened her back, clearing her throat like I did a couple moments ago and ostentatiously shoved the attendance list under his nose so that he wouldn't stare at me anymore.

"Please sign," she said to him sweetly.

Interesting. Are they on first name terms? Yeah, right. Who wouldn't want to be on first name terms with a guy like that?

I glanced at him again, starting to secretly observe what he was doing, and without taking his eyes off me, he picked up a pen and casually signed the list, followed by pushing it away from him as if it were something unnecessary.

I looked away again, pretending to look for something in my notebook, and he rested his elbows on the conference table and leaned toward me.

“Buongiorno, Y/N. I didn't know I'd have the honor of taking classes with you.” He spoke in pure Italian with an accent that his teacher probably envied.

I stared at him in surprise for a moment.

But how? Is he going to attend classes with me? Will the CEO's younger son also work in the company? The CEO didn't mention anything!

“Oh, so you know each other?” The teacher asked pleasantly, but her artificiality gave her away quickly, trying to mask her displeasure at the fact that he knew me and on top of that, said it was an honor.

“Yes, we met a few days ago.” I answered her briefly, which was enough to cause the displeased grimace on her face, as she failed to cover it with a fake smile.

…Which made her look like a frog that got run over.

“Robert will be attending the classes with you, the CEO asked for it.” Mrs Conner explained, seeing the questioning look in my eyes.

In the meantime Robert pulled out the worksheets and started arranging them into two piles. One for me, one for him.

…and that's when I realised.

Wait, who? What Robert? My mind raced to the moment he walked in on me earlier, and I could swear that he introduced himself as Enzo, right?

I wondered, my eyes narrowed before I swiftly pulled the list of names closer to me a bit too quickly. He introduced himself as Enzo!

That's when I heard his soft snort and for some reason I just knew he was making fun of me.

Under the date of today's class I was listed and of course not any Enzo, but… Robert Fischer.

A womaniser, a pick-up artist, and... as it turns out, also a liar.

The Boss' elder son.

The man who was supposed to become my boss so very soon, already fucking up the first impression.

Why do I immediately judge him very badly and assume that he has a nasty character? Well, after what I heard from Caroline and Marie and after how he charmed me, pretending to be someone else.. I can't lie, it's a HORRIBLE first expression!

Even seeing him makes my assumptions clear, it was visible to the naked eye for what pleasures of life he was brought into this world. With such beauty and manner, you don't sit in an office, you lie in bed with women who push themselves there, one after another.

At that moment I immediately understood the ‘Robert Fischer phenomenon’ my colleagues told me about.

I sighed and signed the list without a word, because I didn't even know what to say to him. Thank you? Besides, I had zero intentions for pleasantries after he decided to lie to me after seeing me for the first time. That's what I hated the most, dishonest people.

It annoyed me that he is a man who is absolutely my type, in terms of looks, I couldn’t deny that, but in terms of character, well, he leaves A LOT to be desired, and that's probably why his behaviour intimidated me so much. I felt like an idiot.

“Have you been learning Italian for a long time?” he asked in Italian with a sly smile. Piercing blue eyes scanning my face, looking for… a reaction perhaps.

I glanced at him and he was still staring at me. He was doing it in a way that he knew was making me feel uncomfortable. He was being pushy and rude. A caveman-like show off in a rather unsophisticated way, that I've caught his eye and that he was interested in me for a reason. It was awful.

“It depends,” I answered, also in Italian, looking down at my notes.

“On what?” He pressed further, making me want to roll my eyes so hard they'd just roll out of my damn skull.

“How long is ‘long’ for you?” I answered the question with a question and glanced at the teacher.

Still arranging worksheets.

"How long have you been studying?" His voice became more.. annoyed which gave me some unknown satisfaction. Smiling sweetly, I looked into his eyes with my chin turned up.

“Ten years” I’ve said with honesty in my tone, remembering how, when I was a little girl, I forced my parents to teach me my first lesson.

Italian was not a popular language in the States.

“Ten years?” Robert repeats with a surprise.

I didn't answer, not understanding what was so strange about it, and I had zero will to dwell on why HE was surprised. “After so many years you should already speak with an accent and be above C1.” He added arrogantly, leaning back in his chair which made me scoff.

“And you? How much do you study?” I asked in response without soaring him a single glance.

“Me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Well, technically it was obvious for most of the people here, but why would I give him the satisfaction?

From birth, I assumed.

“So what? Only C1? After forty years?” I mocked with a snort, causing the teacher to open her wrinkly eyes slightly wider at the exchange, as I insinuated that he was not only stupid, but also a forty year old man.

Obviously, he wasn't that age and I was fully aware. If he was thirty, I'd be surprised. I also knew that there are C2 level lessons with a native speaker in the company, but it still made me scoff.

A couple seconds of silence got interrupted as he snorted derisively. I glanced at Robert, catching him staring at me with a stupid smile on his pink lips. He was clearly showing me that he, in fact, did enjoy the little stand off we just had. He was impressed.

God, what have I done?

I quickly became annoyed at myself for losing my cool so fast, and at him for even making me lose it at all. I should have bit my tongue earlier or told him off, but I didn't know how. What would I tell him? To stop staring at me, or to stop picking on me? He'd probably pretend I was imagining things. Because that's how it goes. He only asked about the lessons, but he kept staring at me, and I couldn’t make him understand not to. Besides, I quickly grew worried about what the teacher thought. The last thing I needed was for any gossip to spread around the company, and I knew that the teacher is close friends with the girls from the Accounting Department. She also has lessons with them and they're on first-name terms, because they're about the same age and apparently she studied Italian Philology with one of them. I already could hear them talking shit.

The rest of the lesson passed on me trying to JUST survive. I didn't enjoy it much, as they took their sweet time bragging about their posh lives and places they've been to. Of course in a fluent Italian. I wasn't sure whether he was trying to impress her or anything, but this behaviour made me cringe internally. I couldn't help but count down every minute until the very end.

When the clock finally hit ten, I got up and packed my stuff immediately, rushing to leave the classroom before my head would explode. Passing through the doorway I said goodbye to Robert and the Witch with a short "addio". Right outside the door I quickened my pace as I could hear Robert leaving right behind me. I sneaked away, quickly entering the girls' restroom.

I got to the sink and turned on the water to wash my hands, at the same moment as my eyes caught in a mirror image of Robert walking into the bathroom behind me.

For a second I froze, rooted to the spot. Has he gone mad?

I stared at him for a moment and wondered how I should address him. He was not much older than me. Maybe five years at most, but he was my soon-to-be-boss. He lied about his name and FOLLOWED ME INTO THE TOILET!

“Mr. Fischer, you should leave. It's inappropriate.” I addressed him formally, wanting to emphasise the distance between us.

Even though it was my right to demand it from him, I still felt nervous. Maybe scared even.

A guy followed me into the ladies' room and I know he didn't come here by accident. If he had, he would have come out, apologising, but he was still standing there and looking at me like I'm... In the wrong place.

No, more like prey.

“Why?” He asked stupidly, furrowing his eyebrows in a fake incomprehension as he smiled mockingly.

.. leaning on his shoulder against the wall with arms crossed on his torso.

“Because it's a women's restroom?” I replied in a sharp tone and a fair bit of sarcasm, mirroring his stupid expression.

"So what?" he asked arrogantly, shrugging.

His response took me aback and surprised by his directness. Other women said he was unpredictable, but this bordered on harassment, yet I pushed this thought away. He's just a womaniser and a flirt. I guess he stopped developing in high school.

Eyeing him for a second I straighten my back, keeping my composure.

“Actually, nothing, you can stay here, after all, even the women's toilet is yours in this company, I forgot, but I'm leaving.” I said in a professional tone and without even wiping my hands, headed towards the door as if I had been scalded.

Suddenly he stopped me by pressing his back against the door, cutting off my escape route. I'm trapped, my thoughts racing. I bet someone's going to try to get in here in a minute and find me in the WOMEN'S ROOM WITH THE CEO’S SON! The one whose reputation isn't exactly spotless.

As I look up, his eyes shift around my face and I can see something new in his expression. A glimpse of awkwardness or maybe even… shame?

“I didn't want you to take it that way.” Robert said quickly, raising his hands in surrender as he saw the fear in my eyes. “I wanted to apologise for lying about my name.” He said, as if with regret, and if we weren't in the ladies' room, I might have believed him.

“I’m not angry, but please let me out immediately!” I raised my voice at him, and he looked me in the eyes for a couple seconds, before moving to the side and moving away from the door. He left me enough space to pass through, which I did, as my shoulder brushed against his chest in the meantime.

“It was good to see you, Miss Y/L/N” he added as I passed by before the door shut, still very confident and smiling like the devil.

I left the bathroom as if I was being chased and almost ran to my office. Entering the room, I shut the door closed and let out a deep breath.

I was absolutely outraged and shocked!

What a jerk! How dare he!

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Preach

Is After Hours going on break? I don’t want to get hooked to a new story that’s so good only for it to also come to pause abruptly. It’s really a compliment to your writing, but too anxiety producing and disappointing if they get updated irregularly over the course of a long time. Totally get that you probably like jumping around so you don’t get bored or feel stale with ideas.

I totally understand what you’re saying. No, it’s not going on a break. It’ll be updated VERY soon! It’s essentially already written in my head, just have to put pen to paper, so to speak.

Lizzie and her pain. a baby, little you and me.

After Hours

Part 13

Previous part here

…………………………………………………………………………….

Mortified. Absolutely mortified.

There was no other way to describe it.

She was absolutely mortified.

Y/N initially had no intention of doing what she’d done that night, but upon seeing Robert, thinking of everything she felt for him but also how much he’d hurt her, she’d been unable to stop herself.

The literal lap dance she’d given him had come from somewhere between desirous arousal and offended anger, battling between still loving and wanting him, and feeling like she could nearly slap him again. And when it was over and she came to her senses once more, she knew that her only option was to bolt out of there as fast as possible and do everything she could to never see him again. That was the last time she’d let him hurt her.

•.•.•.•.•

The looks she’d given him — the obvious hurt in her eyes, but then also something else. The arousing feel of her body on his, the touches she she’d given him. The way his hands had felt on her. The instinctive need to hold her closer. The insane desire he had to just erase the mistake he’d made, take away the hurt he’d caused, and have her back with him and to tell her that he loved her.

These were all the thoughts running through Robert’s mind the next day, and as he sat at his desk and was unable to do anything productive, he kept trying to think of anything he could do now to possibly fix this. But it was hopeless. He’d screwed up royally, and he had no options left.

“Mr. Fischer, there’s someone here to see you. He’s not on your schedule, but he’s insisting you two know each other. He says it’s urgent and he needs to speak with you right away.”

Frowning at the words his receptionist, Mary, was saying to him through the phone intercom, Robert stood from his chair.

“What’s his name?” Robert asked then.

“Jason Dryers.”

Robert frowned again.

“I don’t know a Jason Dryers.”

There was a brief muffling as his receptionist spoke to whoever this visitor was, and then she spoke to Robert again.

“He’s insisting that he knows you, and that he needs to speak with you about Miss Y/L/N.”

At the mention of Y/N’s name, Robert’s eyebrows shot up, and then furrowed as he tried to figure out who this person could be.

“I’ll be right there,” he said into the phone, and then he moved from behind his desk and crossed his office.

As he opened the door and stepped out into the reception area, he saw a man who appeared to be about his age standing at Mary’s desk. The man turned around upon hearing Robert open the door, and as Robert looked at him, he immediately recognized him as the man who Y/N had been especially friendly with at the club that one night.

“You may not know me, but I know you,” Jason said upon making eye contact with Robert. “And I need to talk to you about Y/N.”

The mention of Y/N had Robert deciding that he needed to hear whatever this guy had to say. He’d been unable to stop her before she’d left the club last night after the ensemble performance, and all Robert had been able to think about all morning was how much of a mess all this had become and how insanely regretful he was for allowing himself to ruin everything.

Giving a slight nod to Mary over Jason’s shoulder to assure her that it was ok, Robert then silently stepped aside, making room in his doorway and gesturing for Jason to come into his office. After Jason had entered, Robert closed the door behind them, and then looked at Jason expectantly.

“What’s going on with Y/N?” he immediately asked, his face etched with concern. “Is she ok?”

Jason tilted his head, giving him a look of disbelief.

“Oh, so you’re suddenly concerned about her? After having called her a gold digging slut, hurting her so badly that she spent an entire week crying on my couch, and then intentionally embarrassing her by arranging that little show behind her back?” Jason scoffed. “You’re a real winner, aren’t you?”

Robert’s brow had furrowed deeper and deeper with each accusation Jason made, and he shook his head and tried to speak as he took in what he was saying.

“What? I didn’t—“

“Look, I don’t give a shit how rich you are or what influences you have. I’m not going to let you keep hurting my best friend. And while she may be too sweet to ever confront you, I’m not nearly as nice as her. So, I’m simply here to tell you to stop playing with her emotions and leave her the hell alone.”

Robert was trying to keep up as Jason made his declaration. But two words he’s said stuck out the most.

“Best friend?” Robert said to him.

Expecting a different response, Jason was poised to continue yelling when he registered Robert’s words.

“Yes, I’m her best friend. And I’m not gonna let you keep hurting her.”

“I thought you were dating her,” Robert said then, his pulse gradually rising as he started realizing he’d been very, very wrong.

“What?” Jason asked, again taken aback by Robert’s response. “No,” he shook his head as he frowned. “We’re best friends.”

“So, you’re not dating her? You two aren’t involved?”

“Considering the fact that I’m not interested in women, the answer to that is a definite no.” Jason crossed his arms then. “Although, if I was interested in women, I’d treat her a hell of a lot better than you have, I’ll tell you that.” He paused again before speaking once more, furrowing his brow in confusion. “What made you think she and I were dating?”

Robert looked at Jason.

“I saw you two at the club that night. You two kissed and hugged, and you seemed very…close.”

Jason looked back at Robert with equal confusion.

"I'd hardly call a quick kiss on the cheek 'close,'" he said.

"I..." Robert shook his head. "I thought maybe..."

"So, you see her give another man an innocent kiss on the cheek or learn she might be casually dating, and you immediately decide that means she's a gold digging bed hopper?" Jason started once more, angry again. He shook his head. "You know, for the longest time, I was rooting for you," he said, looking at Robert. "Every time she talked about you. I didn't even know you, but from everything Y/N would tell me, I was convinced you were a good guy and that you cared about her. But clearly, you don't give a shit about her. And you know what? That's fine, because you don't deserve her. If your opinion of her can be so easily swayed and you could be so cruel as to say what you said and do what you did to her, then you don't deserve to even know her. She's a million times better off having nothing to do with you. You're clearly not who she thought you were, and the little stunt you pulled last night was a low blow."

Shaking his head adamantly, Robert spoke then.

"I didn't arrange any of that last night," he began. "Well, I mean, I sort of did. I mean, I knew Y/N was going to be there, but I had no idea it was going to be that kind of performance. I thought all the women were just going to sing a song or something by themselves up on stage. I had no idea it was going to be what it turned out to be. My colleague arranged all that."

"But you did arrange it initially, though? And you knew she was going to be there," Jason emphasized. "You knew she was going to be there and you didn't tell her. Why? Just so you could humiliate her? Was what you said to her not hurtful enough, already? You had to catch her off guard and make her do it in front of you, just to make her feel worse?"

"What? No!" Robert insisted with another fervent shake of his head. "I arranged it initially, yes, but that was because it was my only option to possibly see her. I was trying to find a way to apologize. She'd refused what I'd sent her, she wouldn't respond to my calls or texts, and when I went to her apartment, she wasn't there and I had no idea when she'd be back. I had to work out some other way to see her so that I could try and talk to her. And if she knew ahead of time that I'd be there, I knew she wouldn't show up. I know it was extreme, but it was my only shot at being able to see her."

As Jason listened to Robert, his anger slowly started to lessen. So he'd done what he had to try and apologize?

"You went to her apartment?" Jason asked then.

"Yes," Robert replied. "After she'd sent everything back to me, I decided to try and speak to her in person. But when I went there, the doorman said she'd been gone for days, and that he didn't know when she'd be back. I waited for almost two hours, but she never came home."

"So you were trying to apologize?"

"Yes," Robert replied, nodding. "I've been trying to apologize since the day it happened, but she wouldn't have it. I didn't know what else to do."

Crossing his arms, Jason felt no sympathy for him.

"Maybe you shouldn't have ever said what you said to her in the first place. That would have been a good start. And the fact that your opinion of her could be so easily swayed tells me that an apology from you likely isn't really that meaningful. And just so you know, you couldn't be more wrong about her."

Robert shook his head yet again.

"What I said was terrible; I know that. And you have no idea how sorry I am. But I swear to you, I don't actually think any of that about her. I know I said it, but I didn't mean it."

"So then why did you say it?" Jason asked.

"Because I was jealous," Robert admitted. "Until that first time I went to see her, I had no idea she did this, and honestly, it was a shock. Not only that, but I hated the thought of anyone else seeing her like that. And then when I went and saw her the second time, the songs she'd sang were so different from the previous week. And I know now that they're just performances, they don't mean anything, but at the time, it threw me. And then I saw her with you, and I just..." Robert shook his head. "It was all just so unexpected. After we saw each other that night, and then at work the next day, I was still trying to wrap my head around it, and I know that what I said to her was terrible — horrible — but I swear to you, I didn't mean any of it. I felt jealous and surprised, and I just..."

He trailed off then, and Jason took the opportunity to circle back on something.

"Wait, so you'd seen her performing prior to that night when you two saw each other?" he asked.

Swallowing nervously, Robert realized he'd outed himself, but it was all coming out now, so what else could he do but be honest?

"Yes," he admitted.

"But she's never told you she did this," Jason shook his head. "How did you know?"

Robert released a resigned exhale.

"I overheard her talking about it with her friend one day," he said. "And when I learned about it...I don't know...I just had to go and see her."

"But you didn't tell her about that?" Jason asked.

"No," Robert shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I felt guilty, and I also didn't want to embarass her or make things awkward. How could I admit to going to see her?"

"But you did go."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Robert looked at Jason.

"Because I'm crazy about her; I have been for a long time. And when I learned she did this, I had to see her. What would you do if you had the opportunity to see the person you're crazy about like that?"

Staring back at Robert, Jason was slowly unravelling the mess that this had all become, and after a brief pause, Robert spoke again.

"Look, I know that what I said to her, how I acted towards her, is inexcusable. And for the last two weeks, I've spent every minute wishing I could take it back and trying to figure out some way to fix things. But believe me when I say that I don't actually believe any of what I said — I only said it out of jealousy, and I took it out on her. I just couldn't stand the thought of any other man seeing her like that. I know that's not an excuse, but she means more to me than anything, and I couldn't help how I felt. And now, I have no idea what else I can do, and it's killing me. I hate myself for all this."

Looking at Robert, Jason could see that the regret he felt and the sincerity in what he was saying was clear. And as Robert took a deep breath, he spoke again.

"Listen, I know I haven’t earned any favors here, but will you please just tell her that I'm sorry? I just need her to know that I don't truly think any of those things about her. I need her to know how sorry I am.”

Pausing momentarily, Robert then turned and walked back to his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a sealed envelope.

“And maybe you can give her this,” he said.

Walking back over to Jason, he then handed it to him, and as Jason took the envelope, he gave Robert a questioning look.

"It's the letter I tried sending to her each time along with the flowers," Robert explained. "It's an apology, and it tells her how I feel about her. And I understand if she won't give me another chance, but I need her to know how I really feel."

Looking down for a moment at the envelope, Jason then looked up at Robert.

"And how do you really feel?" he asked him.

Looking back at him, Robert's face was completely serious.

"I love her," he replied. "I'm in love with her."

After a moment's pause, Jason switched the envelope into his other hand, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"You know, you could have saved the both of you a whole lot of time and trouble if you'd just been honest with her a long time ago."

Robert shook his head.

"I didn't know if she felt even the slightest bit what I was feeling," he said. "And I couldn't risk telling her and then losing her."

"You wouldn't have lost her," Jason assured him.

"How do you know?" Robert asked.

"Because she's as in love with you as you are with her. She has been for ages.”

Upon hearing that, Robert's heart pounded.

"And that's why what you said hurt her so badly,” Jason finished. “She loves you, and she thought you were someone who would never hurt her."

"I never will again," Robert replied, shaking his head. "Please, just have her read that letter."

Nodding, Jason then partially unfolded the piece of paper he'd pulled from his pocket, and then he looked at Robert again.

"The fact that she’s in love with you aside, you should also know that there was never any need for you to be jealous," he said, the hint of a smile suddenly appearing on his face. "Maybe take a look at this, and you'll understand why."

Jason holding out the paper, Robert reached out and took it, and Jason gave him a nod before heading for the door.

"I'll give her the letter," he confirmed. Then he walked across Robert's office and opened the door, stepping out and closing it behind him.

After Jason had left, Robert looked down to the paper in his hand, and after a moment's pause, he unfolded it. Upon glancing over it, he saw that it was some kind of personal worksheet that the owner of Plume had had her employees fill out. It was covered in Y/N's handwriting, and it asked questions like:

“What makes you feel empowered?"

“What makes you feel confident?"

"What makes you feel sexy?"

"What's your favorite aspect of performing?"

Reading through it, Robert came to the last question on the page.

"Is there someone in particular you think about when you perform? If so, who is it?"

As he read Y/N's response, he then suddenly understood what Jason had told him.

“Robbie”

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