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Faking It

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The doors from the elevator opened, revealing a tall elegant brunette with fury in her eyes. Moving towards the office hurriedly, she glanced pointedly at the redhead, halting any objectification.

 

Pushing the doors open just to slam it close, the brunette tossed a manila envelope on the glass desk, spilling its content, barely missing the Starbucks cup of coffee. She slammed her phone down on the desk and pressed something. A voice then played:

 

“Andréa, let’s get married. I’m sending you our prenuptial agreement. That’s all.”

 

“Explain everything right this instant!” Andrea demanded through gritted teeth.

 

The editor looked up startled by Andrea’s outburst, sitting very still at her chair. She licked her lips, taking Andrea's ensemble. Yoga pants hugging her long slender legs, a Nike tank top revealing the pale, glowing skin of her chest. Miranda wondered how would it feel beneath her fingers, she was certain that it would feel better against her lips.

 

The editor shook her head lightly, berating herself for almost losing control. She took a deep breath, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her. "Sit down, please Andréa." She said gently.

 

The brunette followed, sitting with her legs crossed and her arms crossed on her chest. She raffled her bangs and raised an eyebrow impatiently.

 

“As you can see,” The older woman started, schooling her features to her normal, slightly bored expression. “This is the prenuptial agreement that my lawyers have made.” The brunette gave her an I-know-what-it-is-do-you-think-I’m-stupid-look.

 

Sensing the younger woman’s growing irritation, she explained. Her expression softer now, as she played with her necklace. “I need your help, Andréa. Irv is trying to oust me and this time….” She trailed off and sighed. “And this time, this time he might win.“ She swirled her chair around and looked at the busy street of New York. “He has convinced the board that I am already old and out. My ideas, he said, are not as acceptable as it was before.”

 

“But you still have the highest sales among the other Elias and Clarke’s magazine.” The brunette reasoned.

 

“I do, yes. But it’s not enough to cover the losses of the other magazine especially Auto Universe.”

 

“Then remove Auto Universe instead. It’s a simple solution.” Andréa suggested. She rose from her seat and walked to stand beside the older woman.

 

“Irv is friends with the editor-in-chief of Auto Universe and they both loathe me,” Miranda said as the brunette rested a hand on her shoulder, making her breathing a bit ragged. The older woman tentatively rested a hand on top of the brunette’s hand. “He fears your family Andrea. All these years, I’ve noticed how he will try to please your father. I need your help. You’re already stable. You’re young and very successful in your chosen field. You can retire anytime.”

 

“Retire?!” Now Andréa’s fury went back. She pulled her hand away from the editor’s, Miranda missing the contact instantly. “I’ve just barely started making my name for my own!” She states pointedly. Miranda remained quiet, her gaze not leaving the outskirts of Manhattan. “I’ve just started playing for USA’s national team for volleyball! I’ve barely started to take over Dalton!”

 

Turning her chair, the editor’s head snapped at Andrea’s direction. Blue eyes turning into stormy blue one. “Is the idea of marrying me looks so deplorable for you, Andréa?” She said, her voice dropping on the lowest of low.

 

The brunette sighed. Knowing that the editor was really in need of help, she leaned forward so she is looking face to face with the editor who has been her friend for five good years, She rested her hand on top of Miranda’s once again, almost losing herself into her blue orbs,

 

“You know what I think about that. You know what I think of you. Any man or woman married to you will be lucky.” Miranda snorted. The brunette smiled at her tenderly and continued:

 

“You’re an incredible woman. Probably, the hottest woman I’ve ever met. Being your friend is a great privilege, but being your wife is a different story.” She looks softly at the editor’s blue eyes. "I am sorry if you have taken my reaction in a wrong way, I was just shocked. I just got home from a volleyball tournament on Turkey when I have heard your voicemail and the papers. I am not opposed to your proposal, Miranda. I will help you in every way possible. But what about the girls?

 

Miranda absent-mindedly turn her palm and entwined her fingers with Andréa. To her delight, the brunette didn’t pull away. “If you’ll say yes, I will talk to them. But the girls are very fond of you, Andréa.” Smiling gently, Miranda added “I want to apologize for the way I have broached the subject. I should have invited you over lunch or dinner to discuss it. Not send it via voicemail and fax.” Miranda shook her head.

 

Andrea considered her words calmly as Miranda watches her closely. “Okay.” She says simply after a while.

 

Miranda’s jaw drops open for a nanosecond. Part of her, the sane part of her, believed that Andrea would eventually talk her into her senses and refuse to take part in this idiocy her brain has come up with. ‘Okay’ meant that this woman was going marry her. Andrea Sachs. Her best friend--as childish as this term is.

 

Miranda watches as she gathers the documents, putting it back inside the envelope. “So dinner tonight?”

 

Miranda nods, still out of words.

 

“I’ll have my lawyers check on this and we’ll discuss this tonight.” The older woman nodded once again. Andrea holds her phone up. “I’ll message you with dinner plans, okay?”

 

Miranda mumbles her agreement, before the turns her back to leave.

 

“Andréa?” Miranda calls hesitantly. Andrea turns around, still smiling. “Thank you.”

 

The brunette flashes her megawatt smile that made Miranda’s lose her breath completely. As Andrea leave the premises of her office, her hips sashay gracefully and Miranda’s hawk-like eyes didn’t fail to notice.

 

Miranda runs her fingers on her hair mussing her iconic hair a little. “She’ll be the death of me.” She said softly.

As the elevator descends, the brunette flipped her phone open and calls her driver to inform him that she is on her way out. The elevator pinged open just after she hangs up.

 

Reaching near the busy street, she walks through the crowd, her driver already parked as he said he would be. Her driver opened the door for her before she slid elegantly on the back seat. She thanks him softly as he closes the door.

 

“Home.” She orders, sounding bewildered.


Andréa presses the privacy button up and slumped herself on the leather-clad seat. She runs her fingers on her hair, a thing she only does whenever she is unsure of her decisions. The brunette sighs and lets her head fall on the window, letting the events that had happened during her impromptu visit to the editor-in-chief.

 

“What have I gotten myself in to?”