The Arrangement

“Valentina Vitti?”

Val whipped around to see a beautiful, blonde bombshell standing before her.

She ripped her glasses off the bridge of her nose.

“We haven’t spoken much,” the blonde cooed. Perfect teeth, perfect smile. “I’m Rebecca.”

Valentina knew exactly who she was. Rebecca was the big man’s secretary, one of two leggy blondes who were practically his right and left hand.

Val gulped, and hard. This couldn’t be good.

“Mr. Gable would like a word with you in his office, and... he’d like for you to be discreet.”

Val’s heart started beating a mile a minute, thumping in her chest. It was loud in her ears. Could Rebecca hear it too?

“Um, okay.” Val mumbled, standing up too fast from her swivel chair and clumsily maneuvering herself around her desk. “I’ll just tell Mr. Gansevoort I’m, uh…”

Rebecca raised a perfect, platinum brow at her.

Val winced. “Going to the bathroom?”

But Rebecca had already spun on her five inch stilettos, her supermodel legs carrying her further from Val’s desk with every step.

Val stumbled through Mr. Gansevoort’s open office door. She was immediately bathed in the light reflecting off of his bald head.

“Mr. Gansevoort?” She mumbled nervously.

“Yes?” Her boss muttered absent-mindedly.

“I’m… going to the bathroom.”

Mr. Gansevoort looked up from the paperwork on his desk, taken aback by his assistant’s unnecessary announcement.

“Uh… Alright.” He answered quizzically.

Val whipped around and began to walk. That was an adequate dismissal. It would do fine. Besides, Mr. Gansevoort was pretty laid back. He wasn’t the type to hound his assistant about where she’d been and why. Val had always considered herself lucky that way; other secretaries were given scoldings from their lawyers when they arrived just five minutes late from lunch. But Mr. G was an anomaly at Ross & Gable, and Val was well aware she had been dealt a pretty good hand in having him for a boss.

She scampered nervously through the floor’s reception area, making her way towards the elevators, suddenly more conscious than usual of eyes on her as she passed. Rebecca had disappeared, but Val knew where to go. Everyone knew where Hunter Gable’s office was. She waited for the sleek, golden elevators. When their doors opened, she entered as others exited on her floor, and pressed button 37. She was heading to the top.

Val examined her reflection in the elevator mirror. As she was rocketed up fifteen floors, she fidgeted with her favourite baby pink button-up sweater, the one that accentuated her waist and hugged her hips just so, before adjusting her black pencil skirt uncomfortably. Suddenly her clothes felt much too tight. She wished she’d had a brush handy, but had left everything at her desk, including her iPhone, and so she combed through her long black hair with her fingers, smoothing down the flyaways as best she could before making sure none of the glossy pink on her lips had snuck through the nude lip liner she’d so delicately traced this morning. She did all of this to distract from her beating heart, thumping in her chest, louder in her head with every second that passed. Hunter Gable had never requested an audience with Val before, so something significant must be afoot. Val wasn’t sure what it could be, but the proliferations of possibilities were starting to make her palms sweat. Get a grip, Val, she told herself, inhaling sharply as the elevator doors opened. He’s just a guy.

Val had never seen the thirty seventh floor before, and so when she was met with it for the first time, she couldn’t help but stand in awe of the beauty around her. Everything was white, gold and black, with touches of camel leather and woodland oak peppering the expansive space. Val felt like she was walking into another dimension, one void of the corporate carpeting and the boring shades of grey she was used to. Bet it feels nice rolling out of bed and knowing you’ll be coming to this every day, Val mused as she made her way over to Rebecca’s desk. It’s good to be king.

Val opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word in edgewise, Rebecca beat her to the punch.

“He’s expecting you.”

“Oh, okay. Should I just…”

“Go on in.”

She practically curtseyed, but stopped herself and instead threw Rebecca an appreciative smile. The assistant had already turned her attention back to her screen, and was onto the next thing on her agenda. Val didn’t mind; she wasn't keen on being given the red carpet treatment, anyhow. Whatever it was the managing partner wanted to see her about, she was eager to keep it on the down low.

Val took the few necessary steps towards Hunter Gable’s office, meeting a set of gigantic wood double doors. She psyched herself up, shutting her eyes and willing her nerves to still. Known affectionately by those in his innermost circle as The Hunt, Hunter Gable was infamous for his cutthroat and ruthless business savvy, and more than that, for his ability to tell whoever he wanted to go fuck themselves. He was spitfire, and his reputation preceded him. In just a few short years, he had become the biggest rainmaker in Boston, ascending the ranks and taking up post as both managing and name partner of Ross & Gable only two short years ago. Hunter Gable was not the kind of guy you wanted to mess with, ever, and when he walked into the building, everyone sat up a little straighter. He had that effect on people. To Hunt, fear and respect were inextricable, and mutually dependent. It was why Val had to wipe her palms on her black pencil skirt before crossing the threshold. She put her hand on the gold doorknob and pulled.

She was immediately struck by the vastness of space, stepping into the sunlight suffusing the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall. Hunter Gable was seated behind his desk, and he was typing furiously. When Val appeared, he motioned for her to cross the threshold.

“Miss Vitti.” He greeted her, barely looking up from his screen, instantaneously making Val feel as insignificant as a rogue carpenter ant. “Come in.”

Val approached, crossing the white marble floor, eyeing one of the two camel leather armchairs perched before Hunter’s majestic desk. She sat in one of them, sinking a little as she did. The chair itself was comfortable, but Val couldn’t have been more uneasy. She wished it had a straighter back.

“Valentina.” She corrected him, her voice coming out a little quieter than it usually did. “You can call me Val.”

He smiled, a reassuring smile, and when he smiled dimples formed beneath the scruff of beard he wore as part of his uniform. His face creased, skin pulling over his taught and strong jawline. To see him smile was comforting, and unexpected from a man who so seldom did exactly that.

“Val.” He repeated, still without looking even remotely in her direction. “Thank you.”

As he finished typing what appeared to be a raging email, probably to opposing counsel, Val had a few moments to examine him from her spot across his desk. She had seen him often, and usually from afar, but never quite like this, so up close and personal. He was tall, very tall - a little over six feet - that much she could tell even though they were both in a seated position, and his skin looked bronzed, tanned to a rich brown. She remembered something floating around in the secretarial lounge about his recent trip to St. Lucia with some flavour-of-the-month, or so the story went. That must have been where his color came from. His suit was sharp, crisp, simply black with a white shirt beneath it that looked as though it had been freshly laundered and pressed, so clean it made Val want to reach out and touch it.

Her gaze traveled down to his hands, which were moving quickly, the gold rolex on his wrist glinting in the sunlight that enveloped them by way of the floor-to-wall windows lining the exterior of his office. Val could see the entire city, and while it was a breathtaking view, she found herself surprisingly captivated by the presence of the man before her. His brown eyes were darting as he wrote, set above a strong Roman nose that gave his masculine face the character it needed to be truly memorable. Val decided then and there that she liked his nose. She had always like a strong nose.

Hunter Gable finished his email abruptly, hitting SEND on whatever he’d just composed. In his every gesture, he moved with an energy that was both powerful and productive. Val knew he was famous for that, though; for his intimidating presence, and so she consciously refused to let it get to her, despite the fact that it undeniably did. His magnetism was indescribable but ever present, and so was his forceful aura. He embodied power itself. It was what many attributed to his immeasurable success.

Their eyes met as Hunter turned towards Val, and his dark gaze set upon her in a most interested and unusual fashion, taking her in as though for the very first time.

When he looked at her, she felt set on fire.

“How are you today?” He asked her.

“I’m alright.” She said, swallowing. She suddenly felt like she had to remember to swallow.

And breathe. She reminded herself to breathe.

“Good.” He responded, ignoring the fact that she quite rudely hadn’t returned the question. He chalked it up to how nervous she seemed.

“You’ve been with us now for…” His voice trailed off as he opened up a folder to the right of him, leafing through it casually, searching for something. “Two years. Is that accurate?”

“Um, yes,” Val mumbled. Her heart was racing.

And then suddenly she realized what this might potentially be about.

“Sorry, am I being fired?”

The question fell out of her mouth before she even had time to process the thought. Her nerves were running amuck, and it was only making the anxiety in her chest swell.

Hunter looked up from the file in his hand, taken aback by her question, though not necessarily surprised either. She couldn’t read him for the life of her. That was probably another reason why he was so successful: the inability to be read, in any situation, when he so chooses not to be.

From what Val could tell, that was definitely one of his fortes.

“No.” He told her. “Well, not really. I’m sorry for the circumstances under which we’re meeting. I’m sure you’re confused. I have no intention of firing you. If you’d like to keep your job, it’s yours, for as long as you want it. I’ve only been told good things about you. As far as anyone at this firm is concerned, you’re in very good standing, professionally speaking. Well liked, too, from what I hear.”

“Okay.” Val said, taking a deep breath. She could relax now, somewhat. Her heart started to slow, but barely. Just being around Hunter Gable was doing something to her that she hadn’t experienced before. Most of it was fear, but there was something else, though now wasn’t the time to figure out what exactly that was.

Now was the time for questions.

“So… what can I do for you?”

It was her attempt at eloquence, but she shuddered a little on the inside. She probably sounded more like a french maid than a useful, hardworking employee, which had been the vibe she was attempting to project.

Hunter closed the file in his hands and set it back on his desk. He set his gaze upon Val again. She felt uneasy when he did, as though just moving in real time were an arduous task. She was conscious of him looking at her more than anything else in that moment, and being the centre of his attention was making the baby hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“I know we don’t deal with one another on a regular basis, so this may be a bit unusual. I apologize for that. But I wanted to speak to you about a matter that’s very important to me. I’d like to preface it by telling you it’s radical; you should keep that in mind before I go on, and you should know that I fully understand just how radical of a suggestion it is. I don’t want you to… freak out, or think I’m trying to coerce you into anything, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. I understand the power dynamic at play here and, to the best of your ability, I’d like you to try and ignore the fact that I’m your boss. This is something I’ve been thinking about for quite a while, and I see a very legitimate opportunity in you.”

Perhaps a promotion. Maybe Mr. Gansevoort had finally been generous enough to report to the big dogs about how well she’d been doing. But then why have her ignore his authority as an employer?

Val began to nod nervously.

“Okay, sure.” She was still totally lost. “I guess I’ll try.”

“Good.” He told her, and then seemed to shift gears, changing his approach. “Maybe I should tell you a little bit about myself. I just turned thirty six years old last week.”

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, thank you.” He muttered dismissively in a low baseline growl. “I don’t care much for birthdays, actually. But this one has influenced me more than most. I feel it’s... important that I relay to you…”

He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was relatively surprising for a lawyer, and especially for one like Hunter Gable. Valentina had only ever seen him poised, confident, even aggressive.

This was definitely new.

Hunter collected himself.

“A man in my position is constantly critiqued, and there are certain expectations. I’m not sure if that makes clear what I’m trying to say. Ultimately the issue at hand is that I find myself in a predicament because of my age, and my position in the business world. You see, it’s not just a matter of doing business and going home. People think everything happens from within these office walls, but honestly, that’s just not the reality of the situation. It’s a lot more than that, and it’s much more social than you would think. There are certain cues to follow, things people look out for. And while I try not to let my personal life interfere with my business in any way, I find that it inescapably has as of late, and I’d like to resolve that.”

Valentina still didn’t understand.

Hunter could tell, and so he pressed on.

“Have you ever wondered why bachelors rarely run for President, Val?”

Val shook her head, but then realized she probably looked stupid.

“I mean, I’ve never really thought about it,” she added, trying to salvage his opinion of her. “But now that you mention it, I suppose you’re right. Every candidate has a first lady.”

“Almost every candidate.” Hunter corrected her, nodding at her encouragingly. “Very few have managed to get elected without a wife on their arm. But you still haven’t answered my question. Do you know why?”

Val took pause, and thought about it.

“I would guess it had something to do with… being taken seriously.”

Hunter pursed his lips in appreciation.

“Very good.” He adjusted his cufflink. It caught rays from the window behind him, gleaming gold in the sunlight. “People make up their mind about you according to their own prejudices, but there are widely held beliefs that many adhere to when thinking critically about an individual’s status and place within the trajectory of his life. Marriage at an appropriate age means commitment. It means the ability to handle stability, and permanence, and most of all, that a man can be taken seriously. That they take themselves seriously.”

“Okay.” Val said apprehensively. Hunter seemed to be talking in circles, talking around what he was really trying to get at, but none of these talking points made much sense, scattered like puzzle pieces for Val to put together.

She was having no luck doing so.

Hunter took a deep breath, and spoke.

“Are you currently in a relationship?”

Val’s eyebrows shot up, high.

“Uh,” She muttered hesitantly. “No.”

The answer fell out of her, but what she really wanted to say was: Are you even allowed to ask me that?

“Good,” He said.

Good?

“I have a suggestion for you.” Hunter stated, opening his arms and letting them rest on either side of the very expensive computer chair he was sitting in. “I’d like for us to enter into an arrangement. People did it all the time in the olden days and, quite frankly, I think it worked a lot better back then than it does now. No grey area. No messy emotions. Just… an accomodation.”

“What kind of arrangement?” Val asked.

Hunter adjusted himself in his seat. She wasn’t getting it.

He’d have to spell it out for her.

“Marriage.”