My brain takes unusually long to send the impulses to my brain for those two words.

"But- it was just a- I was joking!" tears fill my eyes and threaten burst forth with the force of an exploding dam.

"Joking is not productive." He says, facing away from me. "You've been dismissed. Collect your belongings and leave my premises."

"I like working for you." I insist, I know it's futile to try to change his mind but I won't feel right if I leave without even trying. "I was just trying to show you how people act. What if you have to close a deal with a funny guy... you'll have to know how to take a joke."

"Jokes are ineffective on me." he says, still speaking to the wall.

The door opens and a man strolls in, he's scrawny and doesn't look like he can even negotiate his way out of an non-existent box.

"You can't seriously be considering taking him over me!" I protest, "He's so meek and ..."

"Fine." He says, "I'll give you another chance, but you have to prove that you're better than him."

"You mean, like a contest?"

"Exactly." He says, glancing behind, "Winner gets the job. Now someone will bring me a contract for acquisitions in England. Whoever that is will remain to serve me."

My competition stares at me with a glint in his eye the runs across the hall and into my office. I dash after him and trip him before he can get to my chair. He lands with a heavy thud... he's quite heavy for such a small guy.

"I've been doing this for much longer than you have little girl. I'll squash you like a bug." He hisses at me.

"I know England better than you can imagine."

He grins superiorly and approaches my desk, "With the paltry education you've probably had, your advantage won't surmount to much."

"Oh, we'll see."

The female bodyguard, Annalise, enters and hands a laptop to the man. Nameless man.

"Did your parents bother to name you?"

He snickers, "Mike."

"Ordinary." I mutter, turning to my computer, I begin typing furiously. About half an hour later, the sun has changed position and glints off Mike's watch and into my eyes. When I glance at his wrist, it's bare... shiny. Metallic. He's an android! A phony. Contracts made by androids aren't accepted in the business world. Mr. Garrison... he's probably the one who came up with this idea. It's not even a fair fight, that android has his knowledge which, I admit, I cannot match. He really doesn't like me.

I know that he doesn't approve of my personality, but I never thought that he would stoop to such levels to get rid of me I thought that he would be professional enough to fire me properly not engage in some sort of game. I stare at Mike, the android for a long time, long enough to notice the chord connecting my laptop to his. He's feeding off me, I realize in horror. And just when I thought my rejection couldn't be any more complete.

Tears fill my eyes for the second time today, only this time, I let them spill over and my chest hurts from the burn of betrayal. I undo every word I've typed and see the android following suit.

Despite my constant chatter, I respected Mr. Garrison because he gave me a chance, then I remember his words, his warning: 'I do not have friends Ms Periwinkle. I have people I use to achieve a goal. When I am done with you, you will beg me to fire you.' Well, coddles to him for twenty-twenty foresight, but there's no way I'm going out without a last hurrah.

He likes money... well I'm going to make him pay.

I've pasted the message onto at least a hundred sheets, and printed mine, then the android printed his. I leave my pile on the desk while Mr Garrison guides the android into his office. I slide down the banisters without a care, it's too late to fire me now.

Jobless and dejected I head back to the hotel. To believe that I wasted so much time at a place where I wasn't wanted. With a man who sees me as nothing more than entertainment. Stupid. All I'm ready to do at this moment is crash into my bed and have a nice, messy cry. In the elevator there's a couple making out like crazy. They get off on my floor, strangely there's complete silence... then they knock on the door to mine and Cage's room. He cracks the door open, lets them in and then smiles at me.

Not feeling in the mood, I nod back at him. When I enter, people jump from every nook and cranny shouting out my name. Involuntarily, my lips morph into a small smile; trust Cage to somehow gauge my moods.

"Welcome to our inanition to the America's." he says, "Drop the sad face and put on some heels. We're going to rock this place like a ten point zero earthquake!"

He signals to the guy behind a DJ booth and music blasts throughout the halls. He must've paid out some people to facilitate this party. The halls are packed with semi-drunk people and streamers. Cage is well on his way to becoming one of them. Maybe I should too.

Giving in to the multitude of fun people around me, I head to my room to change into something avant-garde. Naturally, I have to chase a few people out and lock my door before I can do any semblance of undressing... even then I head into the bathroom and return in a lilac, short, fitted dress that is inches above my knees with a pair of white heels.

I grab a bottle of lip gloss but it slips out of my buttered fingers and rolls under the bed. I grab the coat hanger, shaking off the excess coats and bend carefully, hoping that I don't rip anything. It's too dark to even see anything and my hair which really looks rocked by a quake, is all over my face. Deciding that the worst I can possibly do is break the hangar...

The rod makes a strong sweep and hits something hard. Next thing I know, something pulling the hangar away from me... and that something is way stronger. With a shriek jump to my feet and rush to the light switch. My heart pounding in my ears I watch as the hangar reappears with the added bonus of a masculine hand. I've always wanted one of those... tres elegante.

Soon enough my fear experiences a hiatus as I gaze at the specimen of masculine beauty before me. What is he doing here? He should be... anywhere else. His face is chiselled in the most peculiar way; cute as opposed to all hard lines. He's proportional, except for the dimple on his left cheek as he smiles at me. Nice teeth, straight nose, sexy jawline and don't get me started on the shirt. It's insane. Neon pink with white flowers and a black jeans. His hair falls forward in a way that leaves some of his forehead visible yet looks mysterious. Maybe I should get a name to stalk him...

No! You've got better things to do, besides, you've got to murder him for scaring you like that, it'll only be harder if you become physically attached to him. with the heels, he's slightly shorter than me. Taking advantage of my temporary height advantage I poke his chest and my finger almost shatters on contact.

"What are you doing here?" I demand.

He maintains his smile, his eyes teasing me, "I'm being pursued and your room was the only place where I could hide."

I scoff, he knows nothing of pursuit, "Where are the lovely people who're pursuing you? I'd like to hand you over... or better yet, I'd love to join them."

"This girl, Paige." He says, "She's been hounding me for the past few days, it's crazy."

Paige, sounds like my friend Paige.

"Not surprising since you look like that." Oh dear, did I just say that out loud?

"Like a hunk?" he asks, amusement coating his smooth voice... it goes down like vodka and he's just as mind numbing too!

Frantically, a wrack my mind for a solution to save me from complete mortification, "Like a glowing disco ball." I say. "Haven't you ever heard of mellow?"

"Haven't you ever heard of chaotic?" he retorts, not minding that I just slandered his style.

"Um, no." I say, "Cultured people don't even consider words such as that." Why am I playing along with him, I should be beating him over the head with my rod, but I'm too emotionally battered to consider violence... today.

"I never claimed to be cultured." He replies, we stand there for a few seconds before he asks, "What's got you down?"

"I just... sort of got fired."

His smile fades slightly, "There is a place I can recommend you to." He offers.

"Really?" I ask, astonished... and thankful that I didn't decide to beat him with a pole after all.

He nods, "I can send you the details soon." His grin returns, "But I came here to party and I'm quite the dancer."



Five twirls into the dance, Paige catches wind of us and shrieks. The guy... I still don't even know his name, ran off, like Hades set the Furies on his tail. All these mix up with names recently and you'd think I'd learn my lesson... oh no, now I'm thinking of him! It's definitely not suitable to discuss a dead man at a lively party, is it?

To get him off my mind, I go in search of Cage. Last I saw, he was dancing on the couch... now Paige streaks past me and after her target who's running out the door like a man possessed. Speaking of possessive men; men with possessions... stingy...

All thoughts of that person are dashed from my mind as my eyes lock onto Ms Mother of the Smoothie Killer. Here she is; at a party, with a toddler in her hands looking so elated that I'm scared of what that means for Cage. Then a glance at what's next to her reveals that I should start planning Cage's funeral. I duck behind the nearest person and look on in horror as Mr Ruspin Garrison, company murderer, pats the kid on the head like the loving father I'm sure he is.

He's the only one in formal clothing, and people stare at him like he has leprosy and avoids him like the plague. So, the usual reaction, his face is set in harder lines than usual and I smirk. He's probably stressed that he's got to hire a new person, possibly paying them more than me. Serves him right!

She, on the other hand, is dressed like a typical party goer, even the kid is dressed like a little hipster, he looks so cute. Even she looks... passible. Although she really shouldn't have brought Mr Garrison here; the temperature's already dropped a couple of degrees due to the frigid glare that he scorches the room with.

Oh shit. When he finds out that Ms Noname brought him to this place just to see Cage... my legs over take me as I rush off to save his life. He's half- inebriated and lying on the coffee table, kissing the vase that came with the room. I had no idea he loved free items that much.

Hauling him up with all my might, I drag us both into my room and lock the door. He suddenly laughs and stops kissing the vase. "You really thought that I was that drunk?" he asks.

"Well, it's you."

"Fair point." He concedes, resting the ceramic on my dresser. I lick my dry lips and realize that I never did find that lip gloss.

"Look, your girlfriend's here," I say, his face brightens, "She's with the kid's father, I don't think you should go out there."

He glances away from me, "I think you have it wrong."

"No, I don't." I snap. It's not like I want to spend the time to plan his funeral, much less to press charges against Mr. Garrison.

He marches past me, "Trust me." then he walks out of our safety room.

What a fool!

I follow him silently and watch as the couple embraces. Strange, Mr Garrison is nowhere in sight. Cage and the girl leaves, with the kid in tow... they look more like a couple than her and Mr Garrison. I head back to my room. Time to finally find that gloss. My poor little lips are glitter deprived.

Flinging the door open, I walk into the room, only to have the door rebound onto me. I grab my trustee coat hanger to steady me and shut the door. I might as well utilize the rod to find the lip gloss... its original purpose. Lying on the ground, I peer under the bed, but shockingly, there's no lip product in sight. That little weasel! Hid under my bed, stole my lip gloss and didn't even have the good manners to give me his name!

Consumed by anger that I can't even manage to complete this task, I swing the hangar stand around, wanting to inflict damage, but then my momentum stops and the blinding rage recedes, revealing Mr Garrison, who was hiding like a stealthy predator in my room. To cover my shock and hurt, I attempt to whack him with the pole; a sure fire way to dent his armour. Shockingly, all he does is try to yank it away from me. I hold fast, not willing to allow him another victory, then when he prepares for a mighty tug I release my grip and he falls onto his backside.

The cheerleaders in my mind cheer a mighty triumph and start doing cartwheels and splits. The cheerleaders flee, though, when they see the look that he wears. With silent, calm, peculiar, grace, he stands. I would like to say with smooth movements, since that would be normal, but he stands in jerky motions with stiffened muscles and a look that, by all rights, should've frozen me. It's like Santa's evil twin took up residence in his eyes.

But no, I cannot yield under his glare, I will not follow his orders. I don't work for him and even if I did, I have standards and will not allow men like him to trample over me. I have no concern wilting under his intense stare...

Returning his glare with equal passion, I swear that he leans away from me a little, but then nothing in his expression has changed? All I ever wanted from this evening was to find my lip gloss... not weird men in my room. "Get out of my room."

Now I'm certain, he takes a step back and regards me as though he's plotting all the ways he could murder me and get away without paying money or going to court. "You work for me." he hisses, gritting his teeth.

"I quit." I snap, "Remember?"

His eyes flash and he regains the distance between us, shoving a finger in my face, "No. You work for me until I say otherwise."

"No." I say, is he even a human? Maybe some robot or alien. He has no concept of feelings, "I quit, I've no contract with you, so there's nothing you can do to keep me there."

"So you believe." He mutters, "You know things. Things that can ruin my plans if leaked. I cannot spare the time and manpower to survey you constantly, nor do I trust you. Therefore you must work for me."

Such a compelling and hurtful speech. For some reason I feel like crying again. Shouldn't I have learnt that this man isn't the person of the year? I wince, attempting to keep in the tears.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!" he snaps, "You will do as I say, unless you wish for your brother to disappear."

My next 'no' shrivels up before it leaves my mouth. "You- not even you would-"

The looks gives me speaks a million words, but of course his eloquence kick in tonight, "Yes, you have no idea of the magnitude of power which I possess. I could make him disappear, or he could be found; various parts all over the world and it will never lead back to me."

Cage, dead. I can't let this man hurt him. I would never see him again; it would be all my fault. The mere idea of him leaving cracks through my barriers. "No." I say, hating how fragile I sound, but Cage is more important than my reputation. "I'll stay, please don't."

He nods and I storm out of the room, not wanting him to see me cry.

I head over to Cage, only to find him talking with pretty-face and the kid. Would you believe that I didn't get her name either? Torn between wanting to know what she's doing here and not wanting to talk to her at all, I walk away. Seconds later, something touches me and Cage stares at me with a frown on his face.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"Nothing." I say, "Don't bother." Seeing him makes me wonder about how it would feel if he were gone. I've known him forever, he's more like a best friend rather than a brother to me, if he died... because of me; I wouldn't be able to live. My hug probably bruises him around the ribs, but he doesn't complain.

When I release him, I wipe my eyes and compose myself. I sold my soul to the only man worse than the devil, everything will be fine. Cage looks at me, concerned, but seems to realize that I won't tell him exactly what's bothering me. My eyes head back to where the girl was, and there stands Mr Garrison, who stands and observes everything with cool detachment.

Just seeing his hideous personality makes me feel like weeping once more, but I've already shed more than enough tears for him for a lifetime. He's probably never shed a tear in his life. When he was a baby he probably juts glared defiantly at his mother until she gave him whatever he wanted.

I hate that he still manages to elicit emotions from me.

Cage catches me looking at him and scowls before walking over. "What did you do to her?"

Mr Garrison glares at him, un-movingly, then turns to the girl and says, "Celeste, you really choose some mediocre men."

"Ruspin!" she hisses.

"Oh, no." I say, melodically, like an angel, "He's quite right. Take Mr Garrison for example... I'm so sorry for his son."

All the mouths around me drop in quick succession. I was just voicing what everyone was thinking. Why do they look so outraged? Oh, no, maybe he refuses to acknowledge the boy as his son, so horribly like him...

Just then, little Jesse tugs on Celeste's skirt, "Why does Uncle Ruspin keep looking at her like that?" he points at me.

I glace at him and find him staring at me in his usual manner. Nothing out of place... except for the fact that he's more rigid than usual, almost as if he's uncomfortable. That's impossible though; he makes himself fit in everywhere. And then it hits me; the reason for his discomfort. That kid isn't his; he's Celeste's sister.

"Let's go dance." He says, his eyes glinting in a way that promises the most wretched revenge. Thinking back, he's probably the one who thought up the saying: 'revenge is a dish best served cold.' He's certainly got the cold part down.

Cage glances at me, asking silently if I need him to intervene.

"Be nice Ruspin." Says Celeste and pats his shoulder.

He pays no attention to her, in fact, his entire body lurches at the contact. He gestures for me to lead him to the dancing area. The party is still in full swing, despite the tension in the hosts' lives. But most of the people have passed out, so they're not here to witness our dance. That is if he even wants to dance at all.

Standing like the perfect image of a English knight, he offers me his hand as though we are dancing to a ballroom trot as opposed to the latest techno music. I glance at him to see if he's serious, but his gaze remains locked on me and his hand remains outstretched. What's his master plan, there must be something that he has plans to glean from this visit.

When I don't move to take his hand, he reaches forward and grasps mine. Shockingly his hand feels sort of rugged and velvety at the same time. His other hand rests on the waist of my lilac dress and his heat is refreshing. Wait, what? Not refreshing... congesting!

"Put your other arm around my neck." He says.

Really? He really can't be that generous can he? Letting me strangle him; giving me permission. Then I realize that's not what he meant. I place my other hand at the nape of his head, rather dejectedly.

"What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing."

He remains silent as his feet guide us both to a non-existent rhythm. "It was a joke."

Huh? Joke? That's a word in his vocabulary?

Continuing with the trend of shocking me tonight, he says, "I didn't mean for you to leave. I just wanted to see how you'd react to competition."

"That was a robot." I say, digging my fingers into his neck, "You wanted me to lose."

In response, he clutches my waist tighter, and clenches his eyes closed as though in pain. Yes, my pressure must be depriving his brain of oxygen, then I figure out the real reason: "You won't have to pay for those sheets of paper."

Involuntarily, my grip slackens. Did he just say that he would avoid collecting money? Next, Cage will want to become the King of England, I better lock him away from now.

He sees my look and his intent stare lessens in concentration; from supersaturated, to saturated in two point three seconds. "Fine." I mutter. I'm going to work for him, it serves no purpose for him to see my discomfort.

Jerking his head over to Cage, "I apologise."

'I apologise?' that's all he's got to say to me? After the emotional hell he made me endure there's surly got to be more. "That's all you've got to say to me, you little bugger?" I seethe.

His muscles stiffen under the once more pinching grip of my hand. "What was the other reason you were... emotionally disturbed?"

Emotionally disturbed? I can show him emotionally disturbed... mentally disturbed any sort of disturbed he prefers. I shove him with all my strength, but he's as immovable as the door to his lair. His pristine face is still cool and not disgruntled in the slightest, "You mean why was I crying?"

One crisp nod; is all the answer I receive.

"Well you threatened to kill my brother." I grit out, maybe I should attack him and he'll rethink my sanity and fear for his.

"Other than that." he says in a level voice.

"Oh, just that you, my employer, doesn't see me as a real employee. He treats me like trash and he doesn't even have the-"

Before my insulting tirade is complete, robust arms haul me away from a surprised Mr Garrison and the voice that yells above the music is none other than lip gloss boy. "Of course you're the one dancing a waltz in a high paced party."