~Introduction~
She always had a habit of sitting on the sofa just across his desk, in their study. Book in hand, although it was more of a prop to disguise the quite often glances she would send his way. The words always seemed blurry, at least whenever he was around. She could not care less about the words from a soppy romance novel that represented love when the man in front of her was the perfect definition of love.
From the very moment they met when he walked into the rugged bar she used to work at, he filled the place with the smell of cotton, linen and the inks used to make the money he smelled of. He wore fancy suits with shoes so shiny she was convinced she would be able to use as a mirror to help fix up her $15 worth of make up that began to melt down her face due to the amount of sweat she had worked up running up and down the bar delivering drinks.
The entire night he kept his eyes on her, something she found quite aggravating. The air conditioner had stopped working two decades ago and the sweat from her face, along with her make up, had now made its way down her collar bone. The last thing she needed was to deal with Mr Bill gates over by the table bar she strictly refused to serve. Growing up in a world of 'strive to survive', she, unconsciously so, formed a deep hatred for rich men who, in their enormous ego, believed the world had to bow before them and if not their money could simply buy that kind of praise from them.
Atticus Vuitton was the worst of all billionaires, so she thought. He got on every single one of her nerves the moment he had decided to lodge himself into her life, the very same moment he had followed her out of the bar after her night shift. He bought flowers, but not the sentimental kind. The kind that looked artificially made to serve as an advertisement for his wealth. He bought jewelry, designer bags, designer cloths; he bought a freaking car! Not the cute mini hatch that would get her place to place, seeing she had no car, but the kind that screamed how money is never a problem for him. He spent months trying to get her to be his and in all his efforts she could only find him completely vexing.
She was convinced she could never be with someone like him. She enjoyed a quiet life out in the country side, he enjoyed the sound of a busy conference room that secured more wealth than he would ever need in his lifetime. They were two individuals completely incompatible with one another, yet, it was during a rainy night when he stood outside of her single bedroom apartment-dressed in floral beach shorts, a Hawaiian printed shirt and, oh, how the imagine of his feet in cheap brown scandals could never leave her mind; blasting a feeble love song, a gesture to prove his love for her-that she completely fell in love with him.
As she lifted her eyes once again from the book in front of her to glance at him, his eyes had already been glued to her. He had on the very same look of adoration and yearning that he had on the first day his eyes laid on her. He got up from his chair, making his way towards her. Her smile was contagious, she knew this and he could not help but smile too. He leaned down immediately cupping her face with his hands, an impulse decision. She waited for his next move not knowing that this was his only move. The feel of her at close proximity, her bodies warm temperature radiating on his, the sound of her heart beat beating at the exact same rate as his; all of this was enough intimacy for him. With only his touch he said the words 'I love you', unheard yet immediately understood by her.
