|
Underneath
It All, part 1 EMAIL: tangofic@hotmail.com *** RGI (Ruppert Giles International) was a great, ravenous beast that gobbled up smaller companies and spat them out in nice, bite-sized pieces. It didn’t build anything, it didn’t create anything and it performed no services. What it did was earn money - and a lot of it at that. Some of the employees under the executive level were a little hazy about its functions, but the company was so large and well known, that they rarely found themselves in a situation where they were required to stumble over some vague description of what exactly it was that the company did. RGI was simply an acquisition machine. It bought companies, reinvented, revamped and recreated them, boosted their annual revenue and resold them at five times the original selling price. Or they stripped them and sold them off piece by piece. RGI was known for its unparalleled efficiency. It left no detail unabsorbed and it took no prisoners. This was largely because of the Vice President of Corporate Affairs, Angelus Roarke. Angel’s job description was just as hazy as the company’s mission statement. No one really knew what he did, but they all knew it did it well and were more than a little afraid that he would turn those dark, cold eyes on them one day to see if their job performance was up to par. If you asked Roarke, he would tell you that his job description was “efficiency expert in client affairs.” Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Roarke’s personal assistant, would tell you that Roarke was the corporate consultant across the board for odd situations and incidents. If you asked his secretary, Anya, she’d tell you that his title should be VP of Custodial Affairs because all he did was clean up other people’s messes. The name Angelus Roarke put the fear of god in every employee and contractor, from the executives to the window washers. They knew that if he was brought on the scene someone had fucked up royally and Roarke was not known for being at all pleasant. Anya tried to explain to him more than once that he couldn’t expect everyone to be as anal as he was. It just wasn’t possible. She also told him that everyone in the company with the exception of the President and CEO, Mr. Giles, and maybe Wesley, thought he was an insufferable prick. Course, Angel already knew this. So did the 26 ½ secretaries he had before Anya. The ½ was a girl who lasted until ten o’clock on her first day before she ran out of the building crying. Angel gave her the ½ generously and paid her accordingly. Anya Jenkins had worked for him for two years and had the awed admiration of the entire administrative staff. No one else could stand the snarls, snaps and growls of the large, intimidating man, which was why in order to get to him most associates had to talk to Anya, then Wesley, before they even got to look at Angel – and it was really for the best. “Anya!” Angel roared. It was 6:45 AM on Monday morning and Anya had been sitting at her desk for ten minutes. Angel had been in his office an hour and a half longer. He stormed from his office into the outer area where her desk sat, blocking his doorway. She swiveled around in her chair, recrossed her legs and faced him, finishing the last touch of her nail polish. “Hmmm?” she hummed at him, barely glancing up from her nails. Her ability to ignore him was the secret of her success. “When I say ‘car’ what do I mean?” he asked in a low, cold voice that would have brought chills to anyone but Anya Jenkins. “Car,” she answered plainly, barely sparing him a glance. “What kind of car?” “Angel, those who give their travel information to their secretaries at the last minute do not get limos, they get rental cars. The universe does not revolve around you.” “What you got for me was not a car,” he snarled. “A Ford Escort is a car,” Anya answered, swiveling back around to get the clear coat from her desk. She heard his growl of impatience behind her but hummed while she carefully painted on a clear coat of nail polish as if he didn’t exist. “You’re fired,” he fumed, turning back into his office. “You already fired me twice last week,” she sang back at him. “You’re fired again!” “Good luck finding someone to put up with your incessant whining then,” she answered cheerfully. Finishing her clear coat, she carefully pecked her access code into her sleek little laptop and then blew on her nails. Angel had fired her at least once a week every week for the past two years. She smiled and rolled her eyes as she heard him in there grumbling. He was so cute when he was enraged. *** “Wes!” Buffy said before hurrying across the large expanse of her father’s office to hug him. “It’s been forever!” “Buffy,” he answered smiling, “it’s good to see you. I understand you’re being groomed to take over the company. Your father’s beside himself with pride.” Buffy shot a glance over at her father who was looking irritably out of the window, barking at someone on the phone. She watched as he yanked off his glasses and began to polish them furiously. Despite his appearance, she knew he really was excited about her being there. He had laid on the hints extra thick about her taking over his legacy from the time she was old enough to walk. He expected nothing less than his daughter becoming the extraordinary success he dreamed she would be – even if this was not in accordance with her own plans. Turning back to Wesley, she giggled lightly and nodded. “Yeah, he is really excited.” “So…let me guess, you came over to break the news to me that your boss, Roarke, is a total asshole and you need to pave the way so I’m not sniffling by the end of the afternoon.” Buffy said, sinking down into her father’s black leather couch. Wesley shrugged, sliding in place next to her. “Most people find him difficult to get along with. I think the best course of action is to be prepared for him. Your father really does like him a lot.” “My father is strange, Wes,” Buffy said rolling her eyes. “I know he likes Angel cause he’s some sort of business geek. They mind meld or something. “So, what’s the what with this guy? Did he really go through 30 secretaries?” “26 ½, but that was over two years. He really isn’t that bad. We’re actually quite good friends,” Wesley answered. “Oh, I’m sure he’s a putty tat,” Buffy purred. *** Angel sat at his desk and grumbled at his laptop. Finn’s team had really screwed this one royally. They took a simple, clear cut case and strangled every bit of simplicity from it. It was infuriating. He spent his entire weekend trying to clean up their messes while tooting around in the roller skate Anya rented for him. It blew his mind how most people had the unbelievable ability to take something simple and turn it into something complicated. Like cars, for example. She couldn’t at least get him an SUV? “An, get me Linds,” Angel said, punching the intercom on his phone rather than yelling through his office at her. “Mr. McDonald is in court this morning,” Anya said answered in her normal matter of fact voice. “He’ll be tied up until three.” “Lilah then.” “Bermuda. Looking into holdings.” “Holland, for fuck’s sake.” “He retired six months ago, Angel,” Anya announced happily. “Get me a godamn lawyer, Anya.” “Sure,” she quipped. He sat back in his chair and groaned, running his hands through his hair. He was tired. Really tired. At thirty-two he was the youngest executive in RGI history. Angel was proud of that fact, but he also knew that the last ten years of his life had been nothing but RGI and more RGI. His social life consisted of fucking half the female employees in RGI worldwide and a large number of the female clientele. Angelus Roarke was not above whoring himself for problem resolution but it was starting to get old. People wondered why he was hard to get along with but for him it was so very simple. All he did was work. He ate, slept and breathed RGI, more accurately he ate, slept and breathed RGI’s mistakes, oversights, slips and all around screw-ups. He never got the simple cases - those went to other executives. He only worked the cases that were three seconds from going down the drain. They all required finesse, slick talking and a charming personality, so he felt it was his right to be an ass at the office if he wanted. *** Buffy strolled down the long hallway from her father’s corner office to Angelus Roarke’s corner office. She’d never met Angelus, but she had heard a thing or two about him over the years. Her father favored him despite his being difficult to deal with. “Brilliant” was the word her father had used. It was by far the nicest thing she’d heard about him. Everyone else hated him, feared him or were somewhere between the two. No one, however, could dispute the fact that the man was the key to the company’s continued success. “How can I help you?” Anya asked, not looking up from her computer, where she was three moves away from winning a hand of Solitare. “I’m Buffy Giles. I’m here to see Angelus Roarke.” “I’m sorry, but Mr. Roarke is in a meeting currently and is tied up for the rest of the - Giles?” Anya said, straightening in her chair and sitting up. “As in Rupert Giles?” “Yes,” Buffy said dryly. There were only so many Gileses floating around Los Angeles. “He’s my father.” “Wow. You must be very rich,” Anya said excitedly. “Uh…yeah,” Buffy said, unsure if she should be amused or annoyed by the comment. “Wesley said he told Angelus that I would be stopping in this afternoon.” “You’re not on his calendar,” Anya interjected. “Unless you are copulating with him, you have to have an appointment.” Anya paused for a second, “Even if you are a Giles and are copulating with him, you still need an appointment.” Buffy grimaced. She hated to pull out the Daddy card so early in the game, but she wasn’t about to call someone to get her into the door, when she was supposed to be training with the asshole to begin with. She was starting to see why Anya Jenkins had outlasted all the others. Frowning, Buffy said, “Would you like me to call my father to confirm my appointment? I’m sure with his busy schedule he wouldn’t be bothered at all to have to call-“ “Fine,” Anya sighed, rolling her eyes in protest. “Rich people are so pushy.” Buffy took a deep, calming breath as Anya buzzed into Angel’s meeting and informed him of her arrival. Anya had unwittingly left the intercom on speaker so Buffy heard every word of Angel’s comments when he announced that not only was he busy but he did not have time to babysit Rupert’s spoiled little princess when he had about ten fires to put out today. Buffy felt her face turning red as her temper skyrocketed. “I’m sorry,” Anya said, apparently not at all apologetic for leaving the speakerphone. “Angel can’t be interrupted this afternoon.” Tightening her lips, Buffy stormed around the fortress like desk Anya hid behind and into Angel’s office. Anya was on her heels instantly trying to keep her from going in but Buffy brushed past her and made her way into the jerk’s inner sanctum. She stopped suddenly just inside the door and stared because what she saw was not at all what she expected to see. She wasn’t expecting the ruthless Angelus Roarke to be so heartbreakingly gorgeous that she actually had to catch her breath. He was a large and powerful figure perched casually on the edge of a conference table on the left side of the room, pointing out a contract error to a dark haired man. He wasn’t wearing a suit and tie as her father was but was clad in a t-shirt and jeans. His casual attire did absolutely nothing to take away from the fact that he was the leader in the room. There were three other people besides Angelus seated at the glossy conference table. She was surprised that he was actually in a meeting. His giant office, unlike her father’s Spartan space, was covered with boxes of files. “You arrogant asshole,” Buffy blurted, still trapped between furious and smitten. Course, had Buffy bothered to ask, Anya would have been happy to supply the information that Angel had just gotten back from a business trip where he hadn’t slept in two days fixing a cosmically unreal number of screw ups. He was pissed off at Anya for getting him the wrong kind of car and since he wasn’t client facing today, he decided to wear whatever he wanted. Of course, he was even more angry when he realized that Rupert had sent his daughter without even giving him a forewarning as to what day she would start her training. All in all, it didn’t add up to a happy VP of Corporate Affairs. “Buffy Giles, I presume,” Angelus said, raising his eyes from Devon’s faulty contract to the CEO’s daughter. Despite every attempt to the contrary, he swept his gaze over her lithe form before planting his eyes on hers and leaving them there. She was absolutely the most breathtakingly beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was wearing one of those designer form fitting skirts that had become popular again – much to his libido’s delight – and heels that were stilts barely attached to her delicate feet. With slightly less than his usual grace, he dropped into the chair at the end of the table to hide his interest, if nothing else. His groin was standing up like he was back in ninth grade Algebra sitting next to Betty Louise Splotnik. “Angel, I told her-“ Anya said quickly. “That’s alright. Thank you, Anya,” Angel said, allowing a slow smile to spread over his sensual lips at his dark eyes settled on Buffy once more. “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Anya fumed from behind Buffy, crossing her arms over her chest in outrage. “Thank you, Anya,” Angel repeated more firmly. Up to date, Buffy was the very first person to get around Anya’s mammoth desk and into his office without his permission. He was certain there were members of the company’s elite staff of employees that were as afraid of her as they were of him. He had to glare at his frustrated secretary for a second before she left the room shivering in irritation over her failure. It had occurred to Angel more than once that Anya would have an enterprising career as a dominatrix because she only seemed to get pleasure when pain or money was involved. “Buffy, this is Devon-“ “Don’t do polite introductions like you didn’t just brush me off a second ago,” Buffy snarled. “I may be the boss’s little princess but he’s still the boss and the boss wants you to train me.” “Fine,” Angel answered, wiping the smile from his face. His whole demeanor changed in an instant. The coldness that seeped into his eyes seemed to spread all over his body, making him a thousand times more formidable than he was a second before. “Sit down, shut up and learn. If you have a question, write it down and I’ll answer it later. If you interrupt me every three seconds, we’re going to have problems.” “Fine,” she said, sitting down and crossing her long, golden legs. “Go for it. Pretend I’m not here.” “Gladly,” he growled and turned back to Devon’s contract. Unfortunately, there was no way in hell he was going to be able to pretend she wasn’t there and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with whose daughter she was.
Home - Navigation - Affiliates - Random - Fanfiction - Links - Updates - About Tango |