Keira

Score: Bad Day - Justin Bieber

The ride to the ground floor is taking painstakingly long, as mortification courses to me. It takes physical effort to suppress my urge to hit a random floor button and bolt out of this lift and out of this hotel.

"Strange Hot Guy? Really, Kiki? Really?!"

"Fuck, I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Oh, you most certainly did," he says and I side glance at him only to see that smirk of his deepening, revealing a dimple in his left cheek that makes him look even cuter.

Lisa whimpers by my side and I turn to look at her. She's just standing there, blatantly gawking at Strange Hot Guy and I can't really tell what's more embarrassing - my reaction, or hers.

"Hello there," Strange Hot Guy says, leaning across me to face Lisa. "What's your name?" He extends his hand toward her. Lisa just stares at him with her mouth open for a beat, then her eyes drop to his hand, extended in front of her, but still doesn't take it.

Oh, for fuck's sake!

"That's my friend, Lisa," I decide to intervene. Lisa's gaze snaps up, zeroing in on my face, bewilderment and confusion written all over hers.

"Hi there, Lisa," Strange Hot Guys says, his hand still extended in the air. Lisa lifts her hand slowly and, finally, takes his offered hand. "It's so nice to meet you."

"You...You are...beautiful," Lisa stutters and the level of awkwardness in this elevator reaches levels incompatible with human life.

The doors open on the Ground Floor, saving me from this torture, and I scurry outside of the elevator, heading for the Conference Room.

"Kiki!" Lisa's voice from behind my back makes me stop in my tracks and turn on my heels just as Strange Hot Guy is walking past me. He nods at me, that smirk of his lifting the corner of his mouth, and whispers:

"I'll see you around, miss Vough," before striding down the hallway. At least five people turn to stare at him, as he disappears at the opposite end of the lobby.

Wow. I don't think his ego needs the boost, but, Okay.

I glance at my watch. Already two minutes late for my meeting.

"Sorry, babe, I really need to go," I say to Lisa, who's taking painstakingly long to cross the lobby to where I'm standing. "You're right, babe, I'll take the afternoon off, so that we can spend some time together, Okay?" I tell her, as I start to pivot toward the far end of the lobby, where Strange Hot Guy disappeared to.

"Kiki..." Lisa's voice makes me stop again, and this time she's actually at my side, grabbing at my arm, her eyes, wide as saucers, staring up at me.

"I know, babe, I fucked up, but I'm already late for a very important meeting, so, can you please just hold it off another hour or so, and I'll be right back with you..." I say, as I gently unclench Lisa's hand from around my forearm, and, this time, I really break into a run. "I'll meet you in the room in an hour," I yell over my shoulder, as I take the turn round Reception and then take the right corridor toward the conference rooms. Lisa's face, still a mask of bewilderment, disappears behind the wall.

As bad as it may sound, I am glad I got out of her way. Now, she'll have some time to think everything through, possibly have a drink or two, take a walk around the hotel, an finally realize she's on vacation. Even if only for s weekend.

I raise my wrist to my eyes and check my Apple Watch again, just as I pass the guards in front of one of our smaller, more private conference rooms that Jack and I picked for the briefing between the people from the band's management, Lavet Barcelona, and the band.

Oh, shit. Four minutes late. I'm never late.

I reach out for the handle and push the door open, sneaking into the room.

Thankfully, no one seems to notice my late entrance. There is a long table, placed right in front of the door, with three rows of chairs amphitheatrically spread in front of the table. People are already taking the seats in front of the long table, but it's still empty. I assume it's for the band.

I quietly sneak to the right, with my back against the wall, and I rake my gaze around the room, trying to assess the situation. My eyes stop in the far left corner of the room, where Jack is talking to someone. A woman that is strangely familiar to me somehow. Her stance and the way Jack is looking at her make me certain she's important, but just how important? She's wearing just black jeans and a white T-shirt, but every pore in her gorgeous skin exudes confidence, which wraps around her, fitting better than any power suit would. Her hair is slickened back into a simple ponytail, and she somehow manages to pull even that off as stylish.

Her eyes move over Jack's shoulder and briefly lock with mine, and I'm just absolutely positive she's judging me, everything about me, my hair, my clothes, my make-up. Awareness suddenly washes over me, and not the good kind.

"Are you stalking me?" A soft voice comes from my right, and the woman breaks eye contact with me, her eyes fixing on whoever's on my right.

I whip my head around in the direction of the voice, already feeling like this meeting is going to be a fucking disaster.

"I'm sorry?" I say, before my eyes zero in on the pair of tanned, tattooed forearms, crossed over the very toned male torso that they happen to be attached to.

I lift my gaze and am instantly met with Strange Hot Guy's smirk again.

Oh, shit!

A wave of mortification, way stronger and way bigger than the one that hit me in the elevator, washes over me, threatening to bring me to my knees. I instinctively grab him by the arm to steady myself, as I feel wobbly.

Fuck! There's no way!

I guess you can say that I work in the events and entertainment business, he said in the rooftop bar of Lavet Paris that night we kissed.

What if he's with the label? Or with the band's management? What are the fucking odds?

Once I feel like I can trust my legs again, I tighten my grip around his arm and push him toward the wall, effectively caging him between the wall and my body, away from the scrutinizing gaze of the goddess in the opposite corner of the room. I don't know who she is yet, but I have a feeling we are not going to be each other's biggest fans already.

"What.Are.You.Doing.Here?" I ask, gritting every word out through my clenched teeth.

"Working," he shrugs his shoulders, amusement stretching his face.

Why does he always look like he's mocking me? And why does it look so hot on him?

His eyes move from mine to something behind my back. He nods his head, then shakes it, clearly gesturing to someone behind me, but I am too pissed to turn around and check.

"Doing what?" I grit out again, loosening the grip on his arm a little.

He shrugs again, a shadow passing across his eyes, but his smile doesn't falter.

"What everyone's expecting me to do." He almost sounds bitter.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"Ah, Keira," Jack's familiar voice comes from behind my back and instant relief washes over me.

Jack. I trust Jack. I know Jack. I can talk to Jack and ask him what he knows about Strange Hot Guy. I can't risk this project with...whatever this is that's going on.

I turn around to face Jack and I fucking freeze.

Every eye in the room is zeroed in on me, including two of Jack's most trusted bodyguards, who look as if they are on high alert, and three guys who I think might be the band, from their photo in Wikipedia. It wasn't the clearest one, to be honest,

"I see you've already met Ben," Jack continues, eating up the distance between us with long, haste strides, nodding behind my back, where Strange Hot Guy is still pressed against the wall. "Good. That means one down, eh, Jen?" He chuckles awkwardly, turning towards the stunner he was talking to, who is walking - no - floating - next to him.

How can someone possibly look so gorgeous and graceful stridi...

Wait, what?

I freeze, I literally freeze in my place, while my brain catches up with what Jack just said.

I see you've already met Ben...

I sense movement to my left and I slide my glance in that direction only to see Strange Hot Guy sneaking behind my back and circling me to stand in front of me, just as Jack and Goddess come to a halt next to us.

"Actually, we haven't met officially," he says, that wicked grin of his growing even wider. "Miss Keira Vough, is it now?" He says, extending his hand in the air between us.

I just look at it like an idiot, just like Lisa had mere minutes ago.

"Benjamin Fox," he says and my stomach instantly hollows. "It's very nice to meet you."

The world starts spinning before my eyes...

No fucking way.

I move my eyes up from his still outstretched hand to his eyes, perfectly aware that I'm gaping.

His face. I know his face. I know it not only from Paris, but from that photo of the band in Wikipedia. It was a shitty photo, one of the cover of their first album, where the boys are messing around in a pool, but I...I should have noticed...I am also pretty sure I scanned briefly over his face, his devatstaingly handsome face, this very morning, while flicking through the pages of the folders I have upstairs on the band.

Shit.

Jack delivers a hard slap on Benjamin's shoulder, one that would have made anyone fall forward, but Benjamin laughs.

"See? Now that you've already met a quarter of the band..."

"The most important quarter," Benjamin winks at me and nudges my upper arm with his elbow, finally retrieving his hand, which was left unshaken.

"...Let's get you to meet with the other three-fourths," Jack continues, gently placing his hand on the small of my back and leading me across the room, with Benjamin walking by my other side, the epitome of calmness, with his hands in his pockets. We pass by the two bodyguards and another geyser of embarrassment errupts under my skin.

Oh, God! It must have been them that he was gesturing to while I had him pressed against the wall. Quite literally. He was telling them it was alright. They must think I'm completely unhinged...

But I don't have time to worry about the bodyguards, because just then we walk past the Goddess of a woman, whom Jack was talking to earlier and my eyes briefly meet her scrutinizing gaze. Her eyes narrow, as they lock with mine, and I'll be damned, if the look on her face doesn't scream: "Make one wrong step and you're screwed" at me.

I swallow hard and try to bring my attention to my breath, like in my Yoga class, but there's suddenly no oxygen in the room. The faces around me are turning blurry, and as I approach the three boys, standing at the foot of the long table, smiling warmly at me, and, is that Garry waving at me (Of course, I recognize him, even when everything around me looks like it's gone through a Sepia filter with a blur effect, but I won't recognize the guy, who had his tongue down my throat mere weeks ago), I feel like I'm going to faint.

And just then, one thought winds its way into my mind and settles there. I desperately grab a hold of it, so that I have one thing to hold onto to help me get myself out of embarrassing myself further by passing out on my first meting with the band.

Bloody Hell. I snogged a Flying Benjamin!