"The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only."- Victor Hugo

Kyle felt his heart pounding against his chest, breathless as he stood outside the apartment. He couldn't miss this chance; he needed to be dressed more appropriately if he wanted that interview. Besides, he was going to pick up all his stuff and leave this apartment for good.

A thin layer of sweat lined his skin as he slowly turned the doorknob, making as little noise as possible. He hoped they had all passed out after drinking and he didn't want to wake anyone up with the noise. Slowly, he peered around the door and as expected, all three of them were lying on the sofa or chairs in various positions.

He stood at the door, trying to bring himself to take a step inside. After he had mustered enough courage, he entered, tip toeing across the hall, leaving the door open in case he had to make a run for it.

As he walked towards his room, he saw Greg sprawled on the sofa, mouth open. A wave of nausea passed through him and he averted his eyes, focusing on his bedroom door.

After a few excruciating minutes, he finally reached his room, bolting it from the inside. Some relief washed over him and he sat down on his bed to catch a breath.

He found his phone lying under pillow, untouched. He checked the notifications to see that he had received three messages, one from the editor of the magazine he had written a column for, one from Jenna with the address of the office and one from a random girl he had met a few weeks ago, asking him if he wanted to meet for coffee.

He opened Jenna's message which said that he had an appointment with Y James at 8 a.m. at a Manhattan office address. He looked at the time, it was 5 a.m. He had three hours to gather his stuff and get out of the apartment before he made his way to the office. He pulled out a suitcase and a backpack from the bottom of his closet and started randomly throwing in whatever he could get his hands on.

After he was done with the packing, he decided to change his clothes into more formal ones. He stepped into the little bathroom adjoining his room and removed his clothes, accidentally glancing at the mirror.

Big mistake.

He looked like a mess. His bloodshot blue eyes had a wild crazed look to them, his dark blonde hair was matted with sweat. A large bruise covered his left cheekbone and the sides of his neck, and his lower lip was swollen with a large cut in it. His nose looked normal from the front, but had blood crusting inside it. His body was filled with various cuts and bruises. The more he looked at them, the more he was reminded of the sensation of Greg's fingers over his body and he suddenly felt dirty.

He stepped into the shower, washing, scrubbing, scraping every inch of him that had been touched by Greg, until the cold water stung his skin. Tears ran down his face for the second time, mixing with the soap and water from the shower. He stepped out, shivering, into a clean white shirt and brown trousers, careful to avoid the mirror and checked the time. It was 6.30 a.m.

He took out the money he had stored away under his mattress and put them in his backpack, carefully unlocking his door. Thankfully, they were all still sleeping and the front door was still open. A sudden surge of adrenaline rushed through his body and he ran out the door, not looking back, not caring if he had woken them up.

Kyle continued running till he reached the subway station, attracting weird looks from the morning joggers on the way. He quickly got on the train and put his stuff down, taking a minute to catch a breath as he fell into a seat near him. He did it. He was finally free.

***

Kyle entered the revolving glass doors leading into the lavish office building of JC Co. and walked towards the receptionist, a young, baby-faced man writing down in a notepad. His mind was giddy with relief and his body shook in anticipation, steps wobbling.

The receptionist gave a strange look at him as he glanced at his backpack and suitcase.

"Hi, my name is Juan. How can I help you?" He said, plastering a smile on his face. He must think I'm a total loon, thought Kyle.

"Uh-Um," His voice shook nervously as he tried to gather his thoughts. "My name is Kyle Crawford. I have an appointment with Miss Y. James." How was he going to take her interview if was going to stay this nervous?

"Oh, let's see." Juan looked through the file. "Kyle... Kyle... Kyle... Ah! There you are! Just a second please."

He connected his phone to her office "Miss James, a Kyle Crawford has come to see you."

He paused, listening to the other end of the line.

"Mmhm," he mumbled, motioning to Kyle. "Please follow me."

As Kyle was about to move, Juan stopped, giving him a disapproving look.

"Are you going take all that stuff with you?" he asked, motioning to his suitcase. "You should leave it in the cloak room for the time being." Kyle nodded and followed him to the cloak room, where he kept his suitcase, taking his backpack along with him.

Juan lead him to a set of elevators and pressed the button to the twenty sixth floor. Kyle's nervousness increased as they got closer to the designated floor, building up into a tight feeling in his chest, while Juan leaned against the wall of the elevator, casually.

"You're meeting her for the first time, aren't you?" he asked.

Kyle simply nodded, too nervous to speak.

"Don't worry," said Juan. "She's not actually as scary as she looks."

The bell chimed and he took a deep breath as they stepped out.

It was a beautifully styled floor that screamed affluence. The walls were covered in rich tapestry and the floors were made of Italian marble. Expensive potted plants lined the walls, with various ornaments lying on little tables next to the plush waiting chairs.

They walked towards two large wooden doors with metallic handles at the end of a hallway. Yvonne James, CEO, read a sign above the doors. Juan knocked the door. Kyle's breathing hitched and his heart beat got even faster.

"Come in," said a smooth, slightly husky feminine voice.

Juan opened the door for him slightly, smiled and promptly turned around and left.

Kyle moved in slowly from behind the wooden doors, entering the large office. It was beautiful, yet professional. Three large wooden shelves filled with files stood on the wall opposite him, which had been painted gray. Two doors opened on the wall on the left, with a couple of potted plants on either side of them. The wall on the right was made completely of glass and overlooked the skyline, with a large carved wooden desk sitting in front of it, surrounded by a few chairs. A few files lay on top of it, along with a computer and a plastic cup of coffee. And there, behind the desk, sat Yvonne James, working away at her computer.

He had seen many pictures of her, and thought she was a very attractive woman. Heck, he kept a framed picture of her next to his bed. But as he stood there and looked at her, he realized that attractive was an understatement.

No, this woman was absolutely gorgeous. Her long, black hair was tied into a tight bun, accentuating her beautiful, high cheekbones. Her forehead creased slightly between her sharp, arched eyebrows, eyes lowered in concentration. Her small, sharp nose ended over a pair of naturally pouted lips, painted red, her face tapering down to a small pointed chin.

A stray lock of hair fell around her face, framing it, giving him an urge to push it behind her ear. What was happening to him?

Suddenly, she looked up at him and he felt like his heart had stopped beating. Her deep hooded eyes were a sharp cold gray color, stunningly gorgeous despite the cruel, cold stare she gave him. Even the dark circles under her eyes did nothing to mar their beauty.

Her gaze ran over his body, softening, turning into a deeper, darker gray; the colour of a storm cloud. She was looking at his bruises. Embarrassed and slightly irritated at her pitying gaze, he turned his eyes towards his feet.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Crawford. We have a lot to discuss," said her smooth voice, softening.

***

Yvonne noticed the strange man looking at her. He was a far cry from the cheerful person whose picture she had seen. His handsome face was filled with bruises and his perfect nose looked tender. There were strangulation marks around his neck and she assumed there were a lot more bruises on the rest of his body that he had attempted to cover with the long sleeved shirt. His soft blond hair looked dull and unruly, falling into his big blue eyes, wild and bloodshot, almost robbed of their innocence.

One look at them and she knew this man hadn't gotten into a brawl or been mugged. No, this was different. It was the look she saw in her mother's eyes before she had died, in Jenna's when she had first met her, and she found herself wanting to painfully torture the person who brought this change to him. How could someone hurt a person with eyes like his? She thought. She pulled her gaze away from them, unable to face them anymore. She needed something to distract her, so she began looking into her computer.

"So, Mr. Crawford," she said, looking into her computer. She could not bring herself to look into his eyes without feeling anger boil inside her. "I am assuming that you are aware of the assistance I require at the inaugural ball?"

He shook his head. "Miss Warne told me that you needed me for something," he said in an uneven, deep, grainy voice. "She never really told me exactly what it is was."

She chanced a quick look at him and saw that he was looking down, nervously playing with his fingers. She knew she was somehow making it worse and that was the last thing she wanted. The only way to bring him out of his shell was to make him more comfortable and Dana would be the best person to do it.

A/N: Hope you guys liked their first meeting. Thanks for reading :)