#mui is usually a left oc to me but specifically three AUs he is so right coded. i cant explain it

[mestos]

Being an oshi of your own OC is so tough when u want a specific piece of art ur oc to exist but have no means to make it happen

[lunaschild2016]

Belief - Part 2 (Edit)

Rating: M

Devi is Dauntless. Through blood sweat and tears she made a place for herself three years ago when she left her life in Amity behind. Not once in that three years has Eric Coulter even deigned to look her way. Not until that night. Now she has nothing but his attention. Eric/OC AU [Smut, Language, Romance]

Part 2

 There is pounding.

That’s how I wake up. To pounding. That and to a bright light being directed straight at my face as curtains are ripped away from a window somewhere in the room.

I grab the nearest item that can help me make the evil light go away and muffle the pounding in my head, then I stuff it over my head. It’s promptly ripped away and then my senses are being offended by something else.

“Oh no, you don’t! If I have to deal with his rampaging, and judging by the sound of that knock I will be, then you sure are too. You don’t get to play the hangover hell card here when I’m up well before I even need to be!”

During this onslaught, of what feels like a banshee shrieking, I managed to get my eyes open and focus through the blinding light to see Tori hovering over me. Once she was done shrieking whatever she had to say at me she was gone in a whirl and I could only watch her bleary-eyed as I tried to figure out what the hell is going on right now.

Obviously, I ended up at Tori’s, but I have no clue how the hell that happened.

I’m still laying there looking around as she wrenches her door open and stands there for a second in silence. While she greets whoever is at the door I continue to look for clues as to what led me here.

I’m on her couch.

The coffee table has a bottle of pain relievers and a glass of water that hasn’t been finished.

There’s a bucket beside the couch too.

So, I got drunk, obviously, and it was enough that she thought I was going to be sick. Which, hardly happens but then again I hardly drink like that.

“Is she here?” I barely register the angry words from the other side of the room as I dig in my mind for answers.

I remember that my friends started the night out with me. The plan was to let me be the one to get drunk out of my mind for once in my life so that I could forget for a little bit what had me so livid I was spitting mad.

So, where were those friends that were supposed to have my back and how did Tori get involved?

A shadow falls over me and I look up to see who it might be because I know that this is not Tori and it's whoever is pissed off enough to be knocking her door down. When I see the person my mind switches gears in trying to figure events out.

Better question, Nunez. Why is Four staring at me like he doesn’t know whether to hug me or slap the crap out of me?

“Uh oh,” I mutter with wide eyes as small and distant parts of the night filter through the pounding that’s still going on in my head. I raise up slightly on my elbows and pull the blanket back up that slipped slightly at the action.

“Well at least he wasn’t lying about this,” Four mutters darkly as he looks me over while squinting down at me. “You don’t remember a thing about last night, do you?”

“Muy poco,” I reply with a sheepish shrug and wince before laying back down and covering my eyes with the throw pillow from the couch.

“You know I don’t understand when you…”

“She said very little and you aren’t going to get more out of her if she is going to Spanish, Four. Look, I don’t know what she did and I don’t care because you’re going to cut her some slack, yeah?” Tori had that tone in her voice, the one that left no room for misunderstanding. The words were a request but it’s more like a threat. Telling Four he better or he would deal with her.

“Fine. We’ll be talking later, Devi. You can’t just do that to a leader in the middle of…”

“Oh, ahora arrojas el estado de tu líder. No ... aw shucks, solo hago lo que puedo ahora ¿verdad?” I grumble into the pillow and tune out what he’s saying.

The night after I left work might be a blur but not everything that happened before that. Remembering it brings a fresh wave of everything I left feeling. Angry, frustrated, grief-stricken and so damn full of guilt.

“Just go Four. I’ll talk to her.” I hear her tell him after he finally finished his mini-lecture. He goes without another word leaving only the sound of their moving away towards the door and finally it closing.

For a time it’s quiet in the apartment. With faint sounds of Tori moving around in the kitchen. The silence brings me the time I need to gather my strength and courage for the hell moving from this couch is going to be. I clench my eyes shut as I brave moving the pillow from them. I slowly open my eyes and move to sit up even slower. I succeed in sitting up straight without dying but my head is killing me and making me feel like I want to. I spot the pills again and grab the bottle to shake out a couple then use the rest of the water from the glass to swallow them quickly. Next, I use a little trick I know from doing adjustments and massages of applying pressure to certain areas that can help to relieve tension or pain. I concentrate on areas along my scalp, neck, and face. This isn’t going to be much help with a hangover but it will help some.

The rest of my recovery is going require time, my darkroom, and a comfy bed. I groan as I stand slowly, thinking that I’m thankful I at least didn’t pull this stunt on a day I have to work. I join Tori in the kitchen area where she is currently brewing her favorite tea by the smell of it. She moves like liquid with her silk robe swishing around her. She glances at me as I gingerly slide into a stool, wincing and moaning.

“Eric will be here shortly so you might want to get that tea,” She says and places a cup in front of me then whirls around when the toaster pops up to snatch it out and onto a plate “...and that toast in your system before getting cleaned up.”

I frown and reach to where she has butter and honey already on the counter. “Jeez, Tor. I didn’t realize you had guys coming over for morning house calls now.” I spread the butter onto the still-warm toast and watch as it melts then pause and look at her when I realize whose name she just said. “When did you and Eric become a thing, or is this you guys starting it up again?” My lips tilt slightly in a smile and I resume applying butter and honey.

Tori glares at me as she slides onto a stool and lowers her cup. “You know very well those rumors were short-lived and untrue.” She snorts and shakes her head as she raises her cup back to her lips. “Dauntless is just one big ball of gossiping old women.”

I smirk and take a sip of the tea slowly. “Yeah, but it was funny while it was going around. Who was it that started the rumor again?”

Tori groans and shrugs. “Who’s usually at the center of pranks and gossip around here? Pick a Pedrad they were both equally as guilty, deciding to play Chinese whispers using mine and Eric’s names.”

I laugh then grab my head and wince. “Fuck! I really have to remember why I don’t drink like that in the future.”

“About that...tell me what happened. I need to know to be able to handle whatever drama is going to go down with Eric and Four from this.”

I frown as I look into the cup, drumming my fingers against it and searching my fragmented memories of the night for anything about Eric. Finally, I shrug and answer.

“Look, I’m drawing a complete blank here as to why Eric would even be involved in this at all. I was pissed as hell at Four about what happened with Rain,” I say meaningfully to Tori and she nods then motions for me to continue “My friends decided to take me out to blow off some steam and have a few drinks. I vaguely remember that I spoke to Four about it but I don’t even remember what I said. I don’t remember Eric being there or involved at all. Even if he were there, I don’t really see him giving a shit that I said anything to Four. Hell, he would have probably been amused about it. So, you tell me why he would be coming here if it isn’t to see you?”

A slow grin spreads across her face and she shakes her head at me. “I don’t think so. I think I’m going to sit back and watch all this unfold.” She laughs at my confused expression and motions with her hand to my cup. “Drink up, time is ticking.”

Then she sets her cup of tea down with a chuckle and swishes away from me into her bedroom, her silk robe billowing out behind her.

The tone of her voice, the words, and her smile all have chills of foreboding going down my spine. Tea had sounded good but what's sounding better is the idea of me getting there hell out of here fast.

I can’t be good that Eric is coming here for me specifically. I mean, what could have him so pissed off at me?

Seriously, what happened to my friends having my back!

I do take a few gulps of tea as I make my way over to where I spotted my discarded dress, heels and clutch laying in a heap beside the couch I slept on. At least I have the purse and its contents. That means I have a way to get into the apartment if my roommate isn’t there to let me in. With the way I’m feeling right now she better not be there.

There is no way in hell that she wants to deal with the aftermath of leaving me to do the walk of shame while hungover as hell and running from Eric for something I don’t even remember doing.

Tori’s shower water is turning off about the time I’m dressed and I scowl in irritation towards the closed door of her room. An idea hits me and I rummage around in my clutch then laugh giddily as I grab the lipstick.

I use it to scribble a note on her entryway mirror using the bloodred makeup. I give a nod of satisfaction and slip out of the door with a smile.

She had been so willing to leave me to deal with Eric on my own, was even looking forward to it. Well, let’s see how she likes being left high and dry with Supreme Leader Stick In the Mud.

                     ****************************************************

I make it into my apartment and have every intention of showering, taking more medicine, getting more water in me, and then passing out again in a darkened room.

Work has other plans.

I’m dripping wet and wrapped in a towel when I hear my phone going off. I know from that first ring who the caller is. The ringtone is one that I have specifically for the extension in the clinic.

As usual, someone got called out to work medic with the patrols and I’m being called in to cover for them.

Dauntless has few trained medics or nurses. Most of the qualified nurses we have come from Erudite. They work set hours during the week and generally only a few of them at that, leaving am our already short of staff during the week that only gets worse on the weekend. Should anything happen and even one single nurse not be able to make it in things get backed up and in a hurry. Especially on a weekend. The patient turnover rate is insane.

I let them know I'll be in and am already pulling on my black scrubs as I say this. I toss my hair up into a messy bun, pull on the shoes that make being on my feet all day bearable; then grab my regular bag and rush out of the door within ten minutes of getting the call. I don’t even have time to stop and grab anything to eat or drink. When I get there I hit the ground running.

Most of the time our clinic sees minor wounds coming in. Things caused from training injuries or even from the entertainment fights that go on. Most of those entertainment fights don't have really serious crap happen because they are heavily regulated. Broken bones, head injuries, and split lips are all just par for the course and regular in Dauntless regardless.

There is a bar though, that serves a rougher crowd and allows some dirtier fighting. It's aptly named Big Shots. The name coming about because that's what frequents there.

The big shots.

The big bad fighters that crave a little more in the action. It's the only place that fights can be wagered on and apparently last night business was booming.

“What the hell went on last night?” I growled out to my Med Aide. She's rushing beside me with charts that are filling her arms and struggling to juggle them around as we go through them.

Dauntless is mostly old school, preferring to use paper over electronics, but there are departments that are fully electronic. My clinic isn’t one of them and not by my choice or preference at all. The amount of paperwork 

“There was a brawl at the bar just before shut down a few hours ago. Not sure what happened but it was bad enough leadership was called in and they had to bring some guards to sort things out.”

“Jesus,” I sigh and start taking a few of the charts while I resign myself to a long day. “Well, let's get a triage set up. Whoever hasn’t been gotten to yet will go in order of priority. I know that there are a few appointments for regular visit crap scheduled for today but those are going to have to be pushed back until we get a handle on this. Try and contact them and see if we can reschedule them and I will get started on the worst cases we have right now.”

She nods and gets bustling as I walk into the curtained off area where the first of many patients wait for me.

A story starts to unfold for me with each person I see.

There was indeed a brawl. The guy that had been the current champion of Big Shots got taken down, ending a four-month-long streak. Which, considering this is Dauntless, is pretty damn good. Anyway, this caused an uproar and things got out of hand when people claimed that it was rigged or he lost the fight on purpose. Either way, it got bad enough that both Eric and Four showed up to get it under control.

Some of the injuries I treated were from one or both of the leaders and it had me shaking my head. I've said before that the two of them are more alike then either one will admit. There are differences, of course. Major ones really, and this is really only going by what I've observed of the two during training or other various encounters. It comes down to them having the same goals but just going about achieving them differently.

I don’t have time to reflect on more about either Four or Eric. I don’t have time to wonder what Eric could want with me when he hadn’t seemed to even know I existed for all of the three years I've been here. And he certainly hasn’t seemed to care or consider the multiple requests I've submitted for the improvement to the med services that Dauntless provides or even the many requests for the much-needed equipment and supplies we are always short of. Thinking about that particular subject always fans the flames of temper but add it with my thoughts of Rain and her leaving and it has made me into a simmering mess at the moment. Which is a really bad time to suddenly be faced with one of the sources of that anger.

I open the door to one of the private rooms with a chart in my hand looking it over. It appears the patient has a knife wound to the ribs that will need to closed. Whoever the patient is was apparently part of the brawl but only just now strolled in. He also got himself bumped up to be seen immediately. I blame the fact that I still have a lingering hangover, in addition to little sleep and no food, for completely missing who that most likely meant it would be. I doubt the few seconds of preparation would have helped me from coming to stop or the muffled squeak I cut, barely, cut off. Thankfully.

Eric is leaning against the table in the room with his arms crossed over his chest and wearing a pissed-off expression that is completely marring his normally emotionless features. His eyes narrow when I come in and they sweep over me from top to bottom very quickly before reversing course and doing it one more time, but much more slowly.

“About time.” He drawls out, not moving even a little while he continues to study me leisurely. “I got your note. Real cute. You’re lucky I had shit to do and didn’t come to find you sooner.”

“I….” I swallow and take a steadying breath then square my shoulders and lift my chin. “You aren’t the only one that had things to do. As you can see I'm busy handling that mess from Big Shots.” I wave my hand in the direction of the waiting room which is still full. “Is there something medical you need or is it just your pride that's wounded? Because I’m afraid I don’t have anything to help you with that.”

There goes my temper, making me talk out of my ass again. I was a little careless in how I’m talking to the feared leader but I also know I’m the one in charge here. He might be a leader but the health and well being of faction members trumps whatever personal slight he might think he received.

Regardless of knowing that I’m still waiting for an explosion. After all, he has and will always have a short fuse for disrespect. But I never get one. What I get instead is a deep chuckle while he reaches down for the hem of his shirt then starts a slow lift.

It’s impossible to deny the man has a spectacular body. It’s also impossible for me to deny that Eric has been the subject of a few fantasies of mine in the past. There was and always has been a passing attraction or fascination with him for me. But after a few years of it being made clear that there wasn’t a chance he would look my way it was also something I moved on from.

So you thought.

Going by the way my body starts to tingle in the slightest and it felt like the temperature in the normally cool exam room seemed to get significantly warmer as I watched him slowly ease his shirt up, it’s clear I might still harbor some of the fantasies for the man.

He's moving extremely slow and I feel a flash of irritation at that thinking he's doing it on purpose. Until I notice that Eric is wincing, even as slight and barely noticeable as it is, letting me know this isn’t some kind of show or cocky tease on his part. He’s actually hurt in some way. I move immediately and without thought. My hands push his away and I whip the shirt off and over his head. Accomplishing this is rather a feat because I have to do a very slight jump from my tiptoes.

Damn my height.

He mumbles thanks while I’m already looking him over.

He’s definitely my knife wound. Thank god it looks to be more of a slash instead of the knife actually stabbing into his side, but even that is bad enough. Whoever it was used one of the serrated blades and it left the flesh a jagged mess.

“Table.” I hiss out the order with narrowed eyes, evaluating what will need to be done and what I will need, then I spin on my heel to start gathering everything.

“You are a  bossy  little thing aren’t you?” He mutters behind me but I hear him sliding on the table, so he at least followed the order. “Can you take orders as well as you give them?”

I’m turning back towards him as he says this with a cocky smirk and tone full of innuendo. I carefully ignore both and move back to the table then lay out all the supplies to the side of him. I take another inspection of the wound. It looks like he might have tried to clean it up before coming in, maybe even started to stitch himself back up as well but thought better of it. All he ended up doing was making it bleed and tearing the edges a bit more. He’ll need to be cleaned up again and I'll need to make sure there isn’t anything in the wound before I can start patching him back up.

I started to prep a needle for anesthetic but he grunts out that he doesn’t need that shit.

“Okay, Dalton. Let’s see if that ‘pain don’t hurt ’ philosophy pans out for you.” I reply with an arched eyebrow and a smirk on my lips.

I shake my head with a smile I can’t help after he gives a full-on laugh and grins at me. “Well aren’t you just a fun-sized package of surprise. The question is, was it the remake or the original you watched?”

I scoff and move away to get something to clean the wound. “That isn’t a question. There's no replacing Swayze and Elliot.”

Once I’m away I take quiet slow breaths to get myself under control and to scold myself for letting him have any kind of effect on me. I use this time to prepare a small bowl with, not only the disinfectant soap I will need, but also add in a few things that will help with the healing of the wound and to keep infection at bay.

I go to the case that all of the private rooms have where certain supplies are kept under lock and key and quickly enter in my code. I pull out a few small vials and take them back to the bowl, then add them to the mix.

One vial is a mild numbing agent that I often use for the younger dependents when they have to come in and have their own wounds tended to. The other is a serum provided by Erudite and that I only use in cases where I know the healing process will need to be accelerated. Generally, I save them for gunshot wounds but Eric’s knife wound is bad enough that I feel justified in using the normally expensive serum.

Sure, keep telling yourself that.

I scowl at myself and the thoughts in my head as I make my way back over to him with the bowl, an irrigation bottle, and a sponge.

I’m completely off balance right now and I want to blame it all on the night I had and my morning hangover but I can’t. Not when I feel Eric’s eyes on me the entire time I’m moving around the room. Not when being near him and feeling how he's looking down at me with such intensity as I start to work on him has thrown me so off that I've completely lost the ability to keep this impersonal and professional.

It isn’t just my choice of using the serum I usually reserve for much more serious injuries. It’s also the fact that I completely forgot to put on gloves before I started to tend to him. I don’t even realize this major blunder until I’m doing using the irrigation bottle to flush out the wound. I set it down and then pick up the sponge to do a light cleaning and notice that something is off.  It takes me a second to realize that my hands aren’t gloved as I run one of them along the bare skin of his ribs.

Fuck! Well, it’s too late to put them on now.  

I avoid looking anywhere but at the area that I'm working on as I continue cleaning then patting it dry with gauze pads. Once I’m done with that I dump the bowl of water and make to put on gloves finally.

��No gloves.” Comes his gruff command as I'm about to slip one on, making me jerk my head up to look at him finally.

His eyebrow is raised but otherwise, there isn’t much of an expression on his face to tell me what the hell he’s thinking.

I put a hand on my hip and shake my head. “I’m afraid that I’m required to wear them if I’m going to have to close that wound. Unless you have some medical reason for not wanting me to wear them?”

Oh, Dios! Why in the hell did I say that? I know very well he doesn’t have one or it would have said it on the chart. And I just gave him an excuse and from the look of that slow wicked smile that’s crossing his face before he wipes it away and gives a nod….

“Yeah. Allergy.”

I hesitate for a second. I could call him on it but I decide not to. Calling him on that could bring about him calling me out and I don’t need that. I snort and push down the flutter I feel when I get close to him again. “Well, that must put a damper on your love life.”

Of course, I would pick saying this when I’m between his legs. I curse myself for not being able to just let it go completely. One of his arms is raised over his head to allow me access but I feel his legs squeeze just a little bit. As if he knows I realize where I am and he isn’t letting me go.

“I seem to manage just fine.” His words are purred and made all the more unsettling because the other arm moves so that his hand is resting against my hip.

I have to bite my lip to manage not making another comment and choose to just ignore all of that and work.

I feel him taking a breath, holding it slightly and releasing slowly as I start to use the staples that I’m using to knit his flesh back together, but otherwise, he doesn’t make a sound.

That is until he decides to start talking.

“So what was all that about with Four? Last I checked, you’re pretty good friends with his little posse.”

I steal a glance at him and his expression but he isn’t looking at me. His forehead is wrinkled and he's looking straight ahead, eyes squinted slightly. I recognize what he’s doing. He’s trying to focus on something, anything, other than the pain.

So the fearsome leader is human after all.

The thought that he’s feeling pain and that I’m causing it makes me frown. I shrug and hope that giving him what he needs will help some.

“I was…” I stop and squint while taking a breath. “Scratch that. I  am  angry about what happened with Rain.”

“You’ve seen others leave or get cut before. So why was it different for you with her?”

“It isn’t like I love seeing it with the others. Even in our initiation when those two girls dropped out I didn’t like it.”

He huffs forcefully, causing me to look up and see he has an expression of dark anger. “You mean the girls that were also your terrorizers?”

I shrug not liking the memory of that or them really. I’m honestly surprised he even remembers that.

“I didn’t think we were going to be best friends and I would have been happy to never have to see them again. I still don’t wish being factionless on anyone, Eric.”

“Okay. I can…” He stops speaking and I shakes his head before going on. “No, I can’t get it. That’s not my style, but whatever. So, what made Rain the person that set you off on Four? Was it just something that was building for a long time?” Damn, he's persistent. I can tell I’m not going to get around telling him what upsets me so much about it. “Tell me, Devi.” He barks out the order.

“Because it could have been me okay!” I stop what I’m doing, slam the tool down on the table and try to shove away but his legs lock around me. “Rain was from Amity, Eric.” I put my hands on his legs to try and pry them from me but the damn things are like the jaws of a locked bear trap and I look ridiculous the longer I struggle.

I finally give up with a huff. Exhaustion pouring through me and I look up to find him studying me quietly.

“She told me that she only chose Dauntless because of me,” I whisper finally and see his look of surprise. “They talk about me there apparently. Talk about how I was the perfect Amity and that it was such a shame I left. She also said there was always a good amount of surprise that I made it through initiation. When her test came back Dauntless she wasn’t going to transfer. Then she remembered hearing about me and thought that if I could do it so could she.”

Understanding flashes in his eyes and he sighs heavily, his hold loosening on me a little as he looks away. “So everything you said to Four, was just because of you feeling guilty?”

I shake my head and trying to think back to what all I might have said. Faint remnants of it come forward.

“No,” I say softly and firmly. “I was and still am very angry at him. It wasn’t all guilt. I don’t remember everything I said, but whatever it was...I meant it. I don’t do it often, but when I get drunk I become more honest. Less likely to just hold it all in.”

“Hmm.” Is his only reply as looks down at me again, a slow small smirk appearing on his lips. “Good to know.”

That’s all he says and I squint waiting for something else but he just shrugs. I roll my eyes, look at his side and see I still need to finish. I pick up the stapler and resume my work. The silence in the room resumes while I work. The only sounds are his slightly more noticeable breathing, the hum of the fluorescent lighting and the click of the stapler as I work.

When I get to the last few ones that need to be done I feel his hand that’s on my hip move so that it just barely skims the hem of the scrub top. I don’t really register this or what he could be doing until I feel his fingers grazing bare skin and I realize he just slipped his hand under the material.

This causes me to jerk as I put the last staple in with much more force than I had been using.

He winces and curses but I don’t bother apologizing as I slam the tool down once again then push his hand away then yell at him.

“What the hell?”

He frowns at me and tilts his head. “You didn’t seem to mind last night when you were basically begging me to take you home?”

My stomach lurches into my throat and I shake my head.

I wouldn’t have...would I?

No! I’m sure I didn’t do anything like that. Yeah, I can be more aggressive when drunk but I also don’t go around throwing myself at random people!

Eric isn’t exactly random though is he?

I back away from him scowling and feel my heart in my throat as I see that, despite him letting me go, he is also following me closely. He slides off the table smoothly and matches me step for step. Catlike and advancing slowly and with a smirk.

“If that’s true then how did I end up at Tori’s?” I ask just as my back hits a cabinet.

“I know I’m a bastard and all, but even I won’t engage in sex with a drunk girl. What’s the point if she can’t sing my praises the next morning?” He gets in close as he replies in a soft voice. There is a teasing quality to his words, brushing off that he would be doing anything that can be considered good or noble.

“So you think it’s ok to just try to come to pick up something that you are assuming I even wanted in the first place? Coming in here thinking that just because you lift your eyebrow my panties are going to get all wet and I’m just going to spread my legs for you? That might work for you with the other girls, but I’m nothing like they are.”

I spit the words out at him with venom. Hoping that they will piss him off and push him away so that he will turn around and walk out of here before I do something I know I'm going to regret. Whether that's slapping that smirk off his face or....somethings else...I'm not sure.

He doesn’t though. Instead, he moves in closer making my chest start to heave as my breathing becomes labored. The heat coming off his body seems to be shooting straight through my body and making me want to squirm. I claw at my willpower to keep it together as his nose brushes against me and he presses even further. I can feel the tip of his nose brush against the tip of my ear first and lose my breath as it starts to ghost down further.

This seems to take an eternity until his lips are near mine.

“I’m counting on that, little Devi.” He whispers this, just a hair's breadth away from my lips. My mouth goes dry with anticipation and despite my words, I think I really do want him to kiss me. “I’m very much looking forward to finding out exactly what you’re made of.”

He moves in and I feel the slight skim of his lips against mine before he pulls away. I sway forward a little because I had been following him to complete the kiss that never came. He smirks and steps back still looking at me as he rolls his bottom lip in, almost biting it before he turns away from me and walks over to the table to grab his shirt.

He whips it on while I feel like I want to slap the shit out of the smug look on his face. I stand with my back against the cabinet, just watching him with a growing scowl on my face. His jacket is laying over the chair in the room and he grabs that, revealing a brown paper bag that was underneath it. He grabs that bag up after pulling his jacket on and then walks back over to me.

The smirk is gone as he presses the bag into my hands.

“You’re right. You are different. But there is no escaping this" he uses one finger to move between the two of us, "or me now, little one.” He looks to the bag and smiles. “I expect you to eat all of that before you go see another person. Your staff will be informed that you’re busy.”

I start to tell him off for what he’s trying to do but he leans forward and before I can utter a word his lips seal around mine. It’s so fast and forceful that I don’t have time to process that it immediately has me mewling for more before he pulls back and turns towards the door.

He pauses as he gets the door open and looks over his shoulder, letting his eyes linger on me in a completely heated way. “I will be seeing you very soon, Devi.”

The door closed behind him and I sunk to the ground right there.

My hand shakily presses to my lips as I try to figure out what the hell just happened.

What the hell made Eric even look my way when he hasn’t before in all my years here?

Remembering the bag I still have clutched to my chest I open it to find a sack lunch from one of the best delis here. My favorite deli. Not only that but inside is the sandwich I prefer made exactly the way I like it. Roast beef with extra pickles and spicy mustard.

How does he even know about that?

It left me wondering if maybe Eric wasn’t as oblivious to my presence as I once believed?