Mi Carino

AN: OK, just some info on how this is set out… First of all… Both main characters are guys… obviously… and there are a few symbols that need to be explained… they are as follows:

~*~ Denotes point of view change

~ Denotes time change / time passing

~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.

I hate this.

I don’t want to be a laughing stock.

Having a guy’s hand on your butt kinda ruins any good intentions.

Worse of all, I don’t even know the damn guy.

“Excuse me. I don’t know you. Would you be so kind as to move your hand?” I stared at the strange man whose hand was resting indolently against my backside.

He looked so shocked and surprised. His hand quickly disappeared and he seemed sheepish.

“So sorry. Thought you were someone else.” I waved it off and walked away, hoping to get to my first meeting without having anyone comment on that episode.

~*~

God am I embarrassed! I can’t believe I did that to a random guy! And the poor guy was so nervous about confronting me about it.

I must admit though, he was very cute… But I can’t think about that right now. I have an important meeting with the artist that’s going to design the newest ad campaign.

~*~

Not only is the building huge and imposing, the secretary obviously hates me… She must have seen the display out of her window earlier… She’s staring at me while munching on something all too green and healthy. I know my meeting was set for one and now its quarter past.

And I got here a good ten minutes early too. My portfolio isn’t light and right now, the waist high case is resting against my thigh, getting heavier by the minute.

“Excuse me señorita… how much longer until they get here?” She just glared at me, not bothering to respond.

“I hate to be trouble, but I was meant to meet the people here at one and I have other appointments to meet as well.” I didn’t bother to specify that those meetings were this evening around seven.

“You’ll do well to wait quietly. If they haven’t called you yet, then obviously they don’t want you yet.” Well she was snappy. I shifted my portfolio to my other thigh and contemplated walking without seeing the people I had hurried here to meet.

“Mr. Tesuuki?” I shifted to find a strange man I hadn’t noticed earlier standing in the doorframe.

“Yes?” I felt out of place in my paint spotted tight jeans and comfy overlarge woollen sweater. This man was dressed in a very expensive looking suit.

“Follow me please.” The doorway led into a hallway that was lined with doors on both sides. At the end of the hall, two double doors stood open.

“In there is the man you are to meet.” The suited man disappeared into one of the doors along the hallway after pointing to the double doors. This left me alone in the silent hallway.

I hefted my portfolio up off the ground (where it had settled once again) and walked as quickly and quietly as I could down the hall. I didn’t particularly want to stay in the silent hallway by myself.

“Hi, I’m here about the new ad cam-… oh my fucking god… you… you’re…” I stared, horrified and very embarrassed, at the man who had been groping me earlier.

“Welcome to Truce Tairs. We are eager to-”

I didn’t want for him to finish his speech. I just turned around and walked away as quickly as I could, my portfolio, heavy thing that it was, dragging slightly behind me.

I made it as far as the secretary’s desk before a body hit mine, and my portfolio went flying spilling photos, paintings, sketches and computer generated images across the pristine tiles.

I groaned in pain as I pushed up onto my left elbow, my right hand reaching gingerly for the back of my head. My fingertips came away reddened by my own blood.

“Ow…”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry! I’m such a klutz!” I looked up and found a petite feminine form crouched beside me, her skirt politely tucked behind her knees.

“It’s ok. I’m fine really.”

“You’re bleeding! Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! What do I do? What do I do? Oh god!” She was such a frenetic little thing. I smiled at her actions and then frowned at the sight of my work spread across the tiles.

“Help me pick them up ne?”

“Of course!” She scrambled around, spreading more of them than she was picking up.

“Nani! What have you done this time?”

“Sir!” Nani leapt to her feet and I followed her motions and winced as she destroyed one of my sketches under her heel.

The wince made the back of my headache and I gave a small groan, which drew Nani’s gaze down to where mine was focussed. She leapt off the sketch with a small cry.

As she attempted to smooth and fix it, I turned my gaze to the one that had distracted her. My gaze ran up polished shoes, dress trousers that were matte black, an open black blazer displaying a brilliant white shirt and a loosened navy tie.

His shoulders filled out the blazer well. His hair was light brown, cut short close to his head. It hung endearingly long at the front, creating bangs that swept in, covering the deep green of his eyes. Eyes that were, surprisingly, watching me.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks as I looked back down at my work clutched in my hands.

“What happened?”

“I ran into this man by accident sir! I was running late to your meeting with the artist sir. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I stared at her in surprise as she straightened from her crouched position to face the man who had so offended me earlier today.

“First of all, I am Wulfric Chase, head CEO of Truce Tairs. This is Nani, my personal assistant. I assume you are one of the artists applying for our ad campaign?”

“Yes. I’m Alenjandro Tesuuki. It’s a pleasure to meet you Señor Chase, Señorita Nani. I hope that both of you are in excellent health.” I stood carefully, gently sorting my artwork into my left hand so that I could shake Wulfric’s extended hand.

I sent a warm smile to Nani before returning my gaze to my scattered artworks spread out across the large foyer and reception area.

“If you’ll allow me to finish collecting my portfolio?” I turned away from the two professionally dressed people and bent to gingerly collect one of my better oil paintings. It was on a broken support frame.

“Thank god!” I ignored the three other people in the room as I gently balanced the oil on my thigh.

I guess I seemed a little overly worried about the painting, but it was the only one I had left of my dearest abuela. I spent so much time learning from her. She taught me Spanish and I wrote English for her. My father often begrudged me the time spent with her. As a result of my times with her and with my father I now know, write and speak three languages.