#and a problem set due at 9pm that I’ve only done 1/3rd of

[i-want-to-be-spaghettified]

every time I get revaccinated I’m reminded of my negative constitution modifier

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (5/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen). 

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Masterlist

A/N: 2.7k! ;A; 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

Feedback is always appreciated.

Part Time Event Coordinator.

It is something you decide to put one night on your resume after going over how much time you had spent creating and showcasing the wonder and charitable nature of the company since Mr. Baizen took over. Yes, you still had your old job and worked the hours necessary for them -- filling in all the dirty numbers that the CEO didn’t want to show the world, but even the numbers don’t add up for Carter Baizen sometimes. There were several thousands missing at a time, sometimes the numbers just didn’t add on -- at first, you had thought it was just something related to the shady dealings that Mr. Baizen handed, but there were even moments where he was confused, but with a flick of the wrist or a signature it was moved from his desk and ignored you. You had frowed the first time that he had done this, only for him to give you a shrug, throwing away money seemed so easy for him.

“ Get a lawyer, just in case, ” that’s what Rocio had told you the other day when you talked about the current details of your job, a relief that you hadn’t been working that weekend. But, who in their right mind would go against Carter Baizen -- the more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much of New York he had come to own. There was a little part of him everywhere, even owning a small portion of the Jets -- I mean, who did that ?  

However, you had also come to understand that Carter Baizen, without any of his family’s money, was a man that struggled to prove he had some type of worth to whoever looked down on him, you had seen this happen once.

“Carter Baizen threw away all his inheritance, pulled his father’s company to the brink,” they whispered, a little too drunk late into the night.

“Now, look at him, pretending he cares about inner city kids,” they, those socialites with nothing much to do besides drink, giggled as your eyes flickered to them and Mr. Baizen passing by and though he seemed unfazed there was a tightening of his jaw you seemed to notice -- you were noticing a lot of things recently.  

You stare at the word document for a moment before calling it a night. You’re still unsure of who Mr. Baizen was and what was his endgame to all of this, but at least you could be prepared when it all fell, or at least when he decided to finally fire you, which was the least he could do.

 Truth be told, Carter Baizen had lost his endgame years ago, when she got married a second time, when she had her kids, and a winery somewhere in Northern California. A lot of the things he had now, didn’t coincide with what he had wanted at the start of this long money marathon, but without a set end -- he kept running and doing what he had learn to do best -- take things from others. The problem was that despite all his misgivings and foolish choices, the former CEO of Wyman had been a charitable man, as such there were contracts and grants to follow through with, along with dollars to match and giveaway.

It wasn’t something he was looking forward to, but then he had found the perfect person for it.

“Mr. Baizen, I have the report completed for last night’s donations,” your voice echoes from the entrance of his office, as blue eyes look up from his laptop to look at you -- dark business pants and a white blouse-- before motioning for you to come in, whatever he was doing forgotten for the fun he found the rest of the night.  

“I’ve told you Carter is just fine,” he waves his hand dismissively, as you hand him the report and take a seat across from him, preceding to work on whatever else you have on your plate.

Ever since that first charity event, Carter had roped you into doing all of them for the spring season. He knew it wasn’t an easy task doing everything he threw at you, but you did it to perfection and he was proud of his little employee, letting you in on little perks that some threw themselves to try to grab on the first day -- like letting you calling him Car if you wanted, spending dinner time together, things he knew people only dreamed off -- but with that look in your eyes as you sat down, he knew it was a no-go tonight as well.

“Are you sure this is how much the Wallaces gave this time around?” he asks, skimming through the end where all the numbers connected, as you look up from your computer and nod, “ Cheapskates.”

You let out a small puff of air, but cover it before it can turn into a laugh. Carter can’t help the small uptick of his lips at the sound that managed to escape, before shaking his head and going through the rest of the documents you had brought him. Events were already planned months in advance, as you listed them all out -- ready for his approval, though he did find ways to get arise out of you -- just to see to roll your eyes and give him the best explanation as to why.

“Are you sure this is the appropriate blue for this theme?” he questions, a shiteating grin on his face as you look up from the laptop to see him leaning on the desk a bit more, while pointing to the color scheme for the summer boat race a few months away. You tell him to give you the paper, as you turn the page.

“This blue matches the color the foundation we’re supporting,” you explain, as he nods though not really paying any attention, he just wanted to see you work through it -- give him your explanation as to why you made all these choices so far. Carter might not have enjoyed all of this, but he liked seeing all the work you accomplished and how you seemed to be doing it for a good cause as well.

“I hope you understand why I chose it now,” you finish, though clearly knowing he wasn’t paying attention before going back to playing with the numbers on your screen.

Trading questions and remarks until 9pm had become the norm, and while he didn’t do it as often so did having some dinner through one of the apps he had downloaded the other day. Most of the fancy restaurants he knew didn’t deliver, but you were well-versed enough with what was around the building to give him some suggestions. At first it had just been for him, too tired to get his own dinner as you worked on, but now there was just enough for two people.

“Look you can either eat the kung-pow chicken,” he states with pushing the plate in your direction, “Or let it go to waste.”

You grumble your appreciation as Carter laughs taking another bite of his own meal with a self-satisfied feeling bubbling through his body, as he looks out towards the New York skyline. However, all things must come to end, as they do every night when the clock strikes 9:30 and the two of you are ready to leave, not to meet again for another week, as you head towards the street --ready to wait for a certain someone-- as Carter leans out of his all-too familiar car.        

“Would you like me to drive you home?” Carter asks. He had been asking the same question since these nightly meetings started. Sometimes, he was close as you debated being murder to walking to the station alone, but never once had he gotten the chance to get you in his car again, like he had back in the party.

It’s wasn’t going to be any different tonight, as a r ed 911 Carrera Porsche zooms in front of the two of you, Rocio grins as she waves at Carter from the front seat.

“Thank you for the offer,” you manage say in an even tone and a professional smile -- and for some reason it’s a rejection that Carter can’t seem to handle though he doesn’t show it, as you get into the red vehicle, “Goodnight, Mr. Baizen.”

Carter lets out a frustrated groan as he runs a hand through his hair before driving his own expensive car to his apartment, unsure of why he is so angry at these constant turn of events and just exactly why they won’t leave his mind anymore.

Oh, Carter Baizen has it bad, he just doesn’t know it yet.

 Heidi Castelo-Ashford constantly worried about her children, even if they didn’t care due to them being older now, but the one she worried about the most was her eldest -- Rocio. Being the only child of a model and a real estate agent wasn’t easy for Rocio, watching what happened to her father and then seeing her mother get married again and have more children --- well-educated and privilege beyond what one could imagine as old New York money, made her lash out even more. However, through thick and thin, there was someone that was a constant in her daughter's life -- you, because Heidi knew that isn’t it wasn’t for you Roci wouldn’t have made it this far in life, would have ended up in even worst situation.

Even if she didn’t see you often, you were like a 2nd daughter to her. An open invitation was always there for you, and this time Rocio (for whatever reason) had decided that the two of you would attend her mother’s annual garden party supporting various art foundations. So, here you are a pretty expensive summer dress and heels, as Rocio downs her 3rd margarita before it even hits 11am. Her mother waving from afar, as you return the greeting.   

“Roc, why are we here again?” you question, as green eyes scan the lavish tables and guests mainly dressed in white, “Who are you trying to bang?”

“I’m trying to reconnect with someone,” she explains before getting another drink from the waiters moving around, “Mom said Montreal came back.”

“Oh shit,” is all you manage to say, as you look scan the area for the moment. Montreal, or rather the person you had gone to the blasted city to had returned --potentially as the prodigal child-- the one that had humiliated Roci all those years ago, and you knew you had to be here.  

“Any game plan?” you question, only for Rocio to shake her head. It was kind of scary since she always had one before she threw it out the window, at least she was one step ahead for now, “Well, I’m here if you need an extra butt cheek.”

“I’ll holler if I need help,” she says calmly, almost too much so for some who has had 4 drinks in less than an hour, but you know that if she wanted you there she would have told you, as she marched into a world you didn’t know very well.

Outside dealing with Rocio, her family sometimes, and now Mr. Baizen -- you weren’t from a world like this -- hell, you could barely make the rent sometimes. You stood around for awhile, before Heidi grabbed you and began showing you around, soon more people were gathered around you, as if it had caught wind of who you were and your connections to a certain someone, unaware that someone had also heard that you were there as well.

“And have you thought of leaving Wyman?” an elderly woman that seems to be Heidi’s friend ask and clearly ignoring the recent change in ownership, as they have been going on asking you for the past 20 minutes about your personal background and current aspirations -- to which you didn’t back down from. You were sure that they were judging you, but you shrugged it off -- Rocio’s attitude clearly rubbing off as Heidi just gave a hesitant laugh.

“I actually--” you start off, only to have a hand grip your hip tightly as you look to see an annoying but perfect looking with his gelled hair wearing white suit and light blue shirt.

“She actually plans on staying there a very long time, but that’s besides the point,” he gives them a smile before dragging you out of the circle, as you try your best to say goodbye to Heidi as the women talk in a higher pitch before shaking their heads in agreement -- like flock of white birds and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“You’re hanging out with the wrong crowd, sweetheart, ” you turn to look back at Carter shaking his head, as you frown at the nickname.

“And your company is better than theirs?” you unknowingly tease him, as he grins pulling you towards a shadier part of the garden where the buffet is taking place along with some dancing. You pause and stare for a moment, still confused as to why both Mr. Baizen and Rocio would hate such a lifestyle, but it was just something you were never meant to understand.

“Much better,” he gives you a boyish grin that doesn’t seem as annoying as all the others he has given you in the time that you have known him. You don’t know if it’s being out of the work environment or his changed demeanor, even though he’s still seems to be puffy around everyone else, that allows you to laugh at his comment.

“Do you come to these often?” you question, pulling his hand from your waist only for him to place it right back. Blue eyes scan the whole area, as if lost in a memory of something else before answering your question.

“Haven’t been to one in a long time,” he lets out in a bitter huff, as you simply nod, as he adds on mysteriously, “But I just had to come today.”

You can feel eyes on you and him, as you turn to see some people talking and you can’t help but shake your head a little because as much as you try to keep it professional, Mr. Baizen had been trying to push that boundary from day one, and it seems that he was just doubling in his efforts more and more though you didn’t understand why. Like now, as some people who you remember from a previous charity event start coming up to the two of you, he moves you forward and onto the stuffy dance floor.

“Mr. Baizen, what are you doing?” you ask harshly, unsure of how to move to the steps of such a formal song, while he twirls you keeping one hand on your hip and the other within his free hand’s grasp.   

“Gotta stake my claim,” he states before tapping your heels with his brown loafers, moving you in the correct position to dance, “Everyone knows you’re running the events for me. Rich people always know the value of a good staff.”

“Like you do?” you question, trying your hardest to keep up with his steps but to also not look down.   

“Something like that,” he flashes you a smile, as you are quick to pick up how to move. His smile brightens as he spins you for a moment, completely lost to whoever else might be watching, as you giggle at being able to follow his lead. One song and then two songs pass without the two of you dancing near the back, nobody daring to bother you but watching every move. Carter makes comments here and there about people you don’t know and you can’t help but laugh, each time heartier than before as blue eyes watch you completely mesmerized.  

But, the spell’s has to be broken sometime, as there is a scream followed by the echo of your name in Rocio’s voice. People turn at the sound of splashing as you turn around to look as many partygoers have gone to go see what was happening near the large fountain near the center of the garden. You let go of Carter in worry for your best friend, you turn and give him an apologetic nod.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Baizen,” is all you manage to say before taking off to where Rocio might be, as he eventually loses sight of you through all the people.

“Yeah,” he says as he runs as hand though his face and groans. The warmth of you still sending electricity throughout his very being, and Carter know this feeling all too well -- he had felt it once before, a long time ago.

What the hell was he going to do now?

Part 6