Andie didn’t necessarily like the wine. She was a simple girl, who’d never had expensive liquor to drink. She was perfectly fine with an eight-dollar bottle of wine from the corner store. The wine he’d give her was a little too pretentious for her taste buds, but she’d hoped by taking it, he’d stop her and she could make a scene. She wanted to piss him off, that was just the type of person she was, pissing people off was a habit of hers. A part of her wanted to see if she could break his professional demeanor. There was another part of her that wanted to know why he’d taken her case, it was a burning question she’d had since the day Sebastian and Orson Ramsey walked into the private visitor’s room at the jail where they were keeping her.
There was really just a collection of things that made her want to stay and pick his brain, possibly let it end in him fucking her right there in his office with his secretaries outside the door. She was only slightly frustrated by the fact that some one like Sebastian could make her feel so many things at once. The only other person who’d ever been able to do that to her, was Leona.
She tried to remain collected about the fact that she wanted to ask him a million questions and fuck him at the same time.
"That bottle is more expensive then everything you own." He finally spoke, she paused as she reached the door. She was irritated by the comment, she was well aware his liquor cost more then she’d ever be worth as a human being. She turned on her heel then without another word as she slipped back across the room and set the bottle back down on one of the shelves of the liquor cabinet. "You can pour yourself one more glass if you want, but you can't have the whole thing." He breathed, she glanced at him over her shoulder, through a sea of blue hair, watching him shrug like he was doing her some kind of glorious fucking favor.
She raised a brow as he lit himself a cigar and the smell, was something she hated. Their foster father, the very man Leo had murdered, smoked cigars. She was hyper sensitive to the smell and it caused her jaw to clench as a habitual reaction to the smell. She glanced back to the liquor cabinet pretending to pour herself a glass of wine, like she was going to stick around. However, she had no plans to. She’d learned quick slight of hands, due to her years as a foster child. Sometimes she had to steal to survive. With her back facing him, she simply looked like she was getting herself another glass of wine. Until in one quick motion she turned around and his Scotch was in her hand. Her eyes burned into his as she flipped it over and the expensive liquor started pouring out onto the dark wood flooring, pooling at her feet. The decanter had only been about half full, so it had taken only a short moment for her to empty the glass container. She let it slip from her hand then, knowing the decanter itself had to be expensive. The shattering of the glass echoed loudly through is office.
“This is why we can’t have nice things, darling.” She breathed, her words mocking him and his money. She made her way over to his desk then, the glass crunching under her heels. She grabbed his chair spinning him to face her as she placed her hands on either side of the arms of the chair, boxing him in. She wasn’t the least bit scared of him, she wasn’t even sure why she was so pissed off at him, but damn it, it felt good hating someone. She lend, in so close her lips were almost touching his. It was no longer about getting him to fuck her, it was like she’d completely forgotten Arty’s plan. “Your money doesn’t mean shit to me.” She said bluntly, honesty bleeding from her words. “I get it, you like playing the role of Gatsby,” She breathed, tone threatening as she continued. “but just remember, Jay Gatsby fucked with the wrong girl.” She hissed before pressing her lips to his hard.
The kiss lasted seconds before she pulled away, forcing the buzz his lips gave her away as she moved quick making her way around his desk and back towards the door.
He could tell that he’d pissed her off by the way that her eyes were burning into him now. He didn’t so much as flinch. There weren’t many things, if any, that got under Orson’s skin quite the way a woman could. Especially, a woman like Leona. He was torn between hating her because of her job and wanting to possess because of the crime she’d committed and her beauty. It had been a constant internal struggle since he’d met her. One he’d only been able to push out of the spotlight of his mind when she’d gone away to prison. She was struggling with how to respond to his callus words, he waited.
"Thank you, for everything you've done for Andie and me." She finally offered and his jaw tensed as his bright blue eyes watched her. He could hear her building angry tone, despite her attempt to hide it. She straightened out the signed papers, before she slid them back across to him. She hadn’t signed a line. He knew this, she wanted a reason to come back. He was grateful in that moment for his ability to catch the smallest of details. He watched her take a sip of her water. "But honestly," her words were quite and he remained sitting, calm and collected as she stood. "Go fuck yourself Orson." She spat.
His jaw clenched even harder, his teeth grinding together. He remained eerily still as she dumped the water in his lap. Rage built in his chest, so intensely he fought off dark thoughts to take her life right there in his office. No one disrespected him and got away with it. He didn’t know who the fuck she thought she was. Her heels clicking against the floor were almost too loud in his ears. He reached under his desk, clicking a button that automatically locked the doors, making it impossible for her to leave. He had this installed when he needed to deal with difficult clients or make private deals. This insured that he was in charge if he could lock someone in. He stood then as she reached the door, unable to leave his office.
He unbuttoned he suite jacket sliding it off and letting it fall into his chair. He opened the top drawer to his desk pulling out an expensive handkerchief, he started to dab his slacks. He acted as though he didn’t lock her in his office, like she wasn’t in the room with him. Finally, he tossed the damp handkerchief onto his desk. His angry eyes glanced up to her.
“You think you’re clever?” He asked, but he didn’t wait for her to answer before he spoke again, his voice reimaging terrifyingly calm, though anger could be heard clear as day in his voice. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the small pieces that had fallen, back into place. “I said to sign the papers. All of them” he demanded.
He crossed the room towards her. He didn’t touch her, he fought the urge to slap her across the face and push her against the wall at the same time. He hated that he couldn’t punish her the way he desperately wanted to. He didn’t do well with people disrespecting him and his brother, in fact it bothered the hell out of him. She’d done it so blatantly in his office. He placed his hands in his pocket, to keep from grabbing her or hurting her. He looked down at her, his tall frame towered over her tiny frame.
“You like your freedom?” He asked, his voice deadly. “Do you want to stay free?” He threatened. “I don’t think you understand how capable I am of throwing your pretty little ass in prison for life.” He said honestly. “No Oleander. No drugs. No…” He trailed off as his eyes ran over her, hating how incredibly beautiful she was even though she’d clearly been hooking. “Cock.” He smirked wickedly, finishing his thoughts, referring to the fact she’d be fucking women for the rest of her life, he could within seconds have her arrested under made up charges all he had to do was pull one or two strings. “Sign the last line Leona.” He demanded, in a threatening tone.