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lenaswritingandstuff · 2 years ago

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Losing Game [Antoine Griezmann x fem!OC] (Chap. II)

Requested: No

Pairing: Antoine Griezmann x OC!Gabrielle Darian; more to be added.

Warnings: English is not my first language!

Wordcount: 3.6K+

A/N: GIF IS NOT MINE. Enjoy!

Previous chapter

CHAPTER II

The day after, waking up was more complicated than I envisioned. I rubbed my eyes and heard Louisa’s alarm ringing in her bedroom. Sighing, I got up and went to the corridor.

“Morning.”

“Yo.”

“Go put some clothes first,” I said. “You better not be late to class.”

Still a bit sleepy, she went “hum” and walked to the bathroom. I went to the living room, turned on the TV, and prepared breakfast in the open kitchen. I consulted my phone and Louisa then arrived, now fully awake.

“Here,” I handed her a cup of coffee.

“Thanks girl. Slept well?”

“Not bad, you?”

“Not enough. I don’t wanna go to class at all” she sighed. “Tell me why I’m in college again?”

“Because you want to be a psychologist,” I answered with a little smile. “Since you were little.”

“Oh, right.”

She made herself some toasts, and we talked a bit.

“What plans do you have for this morning?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing special. Except for that interview.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Barely.” I said raising my shoulders.

I liked giving interviews, because it gave me the opportunity to talk about the company and cases that were dear to me. The problem were the journalists who cared more about the clothes I was wearing than the company and their idiotic questions. Louisa, who was now gonna be late, went to preparing herself while I cleared the table. She came back a few minutes later, put a jacket on, and then turned to me.

“We’re having lunch together, right?”

“Of course.”

“Awesome. See ya, bestie!”

“See you!”

She blew me a kiss and then left. My parents hired me – and by that I mean forced me to work for them – as soon as I finished high school, but they insisted on me going to college, but through distance education. They wanted me to a business course like Noah did, but I managed to convince them to let me study English, in order to become a translator from English to French. It was what I wanted to do since middle school, and since I didn’t see myself working for my parents’ company my whole life, I didn’t see what else I could do. I went to prepare myself, and once I was ready, left the apartment. In the corridor I see the janitor, who greeted me with a nod. The company’s headquarters were twenty minutes away, which was rather helpful. I loved my car a lot. It wasn’t the kind of car my parents loved, but I wouldn’t trade it for any other.

After spending thirty minutes on the road because of the traffic, I finally arrived in front of the grey building which was a bit sinister at first and that I now knew by heart.

“Morning!” I said to the receptionists.

“Morning Miss Darian!”

I took the elevator, and arrived on the fourth floor, where my desk was. When I first got here, my father didn’t know where to put me, and decided I would work at “the finance floor” as we called it. I’m not complaining, because everybody working at that loor is very nice. I said hi to the girls who were already here and sat behind my desk. No one had induvial offices here, except on the last floor, which was where my parents and my stupid brother worked. I turned my computer on and started to work. I corrected some mistakes on the next gala’s invitations and the article on yesterday’s night, which was supposed to be published in two days. I got a text from Louisa telling me she’s bored in class. I smiled and wrote to her to hang on. That kind of thing reminds me of much I love distance education. I had finished my work, and since I had an hour to kill, I decided to take out one of my lessons and work on it. I didn’t see the hour go, and it was the phone ringing on my desk that brought back to reality.

“Hello?”

“Miss Darian, your appointment is here.”

I completely forgot about this interview.

“Oh, right. Coming.”

“She’s waiting for you on the second floor.”

“Thank you.”

I hanged up and walked to the elevator. Once on the second floor, I entered the room full of small sofas we usually used for birthday celebrations and stuff like that. The woman who was waiting had her back turned and was wearing the highest heels I ever saw. I was relieved she didn’t have any camera with her.

“Hello,” I say walking to her.

She turned around, and gave me a fake smile while her eyes, hided by her glasses, remained cold.

“Miss Darian, it’s really nice to meet you. I’m Anne Forand.”

She presented a hand with manicured nails, and I shook it reluctantly.

“Nice to meet you too.”

I showed her the sofa behind her, and sat on the sofa that faced it. She started recording, and gave me a fake smile again.

“Gabrielle, – I can call you Gabrielle, right? – if you had to describe Darian Enterprises, which is, just as a reminder, your parents’ company, in a few words, how would you do it?”

Basic question. Nice. And she’s looking down upon me. Stay calm girl. I cleared my throat and smiled at her.

“Darian Enterprises," I answered, “aim to help people who need it through money donation or merchandise in order to create a more egalitarian society. That’s really important to us. We also have been working on projects for the environment and the planet’s protection for some time.”

She gave a confused look and smiled once again.

“Your parents, Anita and Xavier, are known for their good heart and for being very selfless – which led to this company being created. Did you try to create a different image or are you satisfied just by walking in their footsteps?”

I answered calmly, but if it was just me, I would just throw her out. The questions’ double meaning is more and more obvious: she’s accusing me of just being here because of my parents and in the next question of refusing to work in the office with my brother. I get really quickly that this so-called journalist is just here to push the blame on me, with, if possible, a scoop. Any journalist who would want to know more about the company would go see my parents, not me – unless they have a particular topic. I answer every question with calm, mostly because if I don’t and my mother hears it, she’s gonna kill me. The journalist doesn’t give up, as she doesn’t get that I didn’t fall for her trap. After a few stupid questions, the last question finally comes in.

“Last question: you’re young, rich, pretty” – the last word doesn’t easily come out – “and you’re famous. Such a young girl cannot be single, can she?”

Here is the scoop she wants. What does she expect, exactly? Me revealing that I’m dating the rock star that is currently everywhere on TV or a famous football player? Damn it, just remind me to fish in my next life.

“Well, apparently she can. I don’t have anybody.”

She gave a smile that’s telling me she thinks I’m lying, and stopped the record.

“Very well. Do you mind if I take a picture? For the article, I mean” she added as if I was dumb.

I’m gonna shove the damn picture up your ass-

“Sure.”

I fixed my hair quickly, and she asked me to pose by the window before taking the picture with her phone.

“Well, I’ve got everything I need. Thank you very much, Gabrielle.”

“The main exit in on your right once you’re on the first floor.”

I turned my back on her without shaking the hand she gave me and left the room. She bugged me for real. I go back to my floor, and eat a candy from the candy pack I keep in my desk. I need to get back to studying, so I continue working on the last lesson. One could really ask why I come to the office…Time luckily flies so fast, and one of my coworkers, Estelle, bring me back to Earth when she calls me.

“Gabrielle? It’s lunch time for us, and time to go home for you.” she says gently.

“Already? Oh my. See you tomorrow, Estelle.”

“Have a good afternoon, beautiful.”

I was lucky that her and the other girls eventually saw me as a coworker and not just as the bosses’ daughter. I turned my computer off, got up from my chair, said goodbye to my coworkers and took the elevator. I say goodbye to the receptionists and then get on my car. Barely five minutes later, traffic already starts to be horrible. That’s the main thing I don’t like about Paris - closely followed by the fact that's there is too many people. I finally arrived home, and parked my car right besides Louisa’s. I go up to the apartment, and meet Louisa in front of our door.

“Hey! How was work?” she asked.

“As usual. How about the classes?”

“Oh, Gaby, it was so boring, you have no idea…”

She opened the door and I followed her inside. I put my bag aside and sit on the sofa.

“By the way, how was the interview?”

I tell her everything, and she mumbles unpolite things to the journalist and laughs when I tell her how I said goodbye.

“You need to tell your mom”, she said more seriously. “That woman better not come back.”

“You know damn well that if I talk to my mother about it she’ll say ‘Gabrielle, stop acting like a child, your brother doesn’t complain about journalists who come to see him.’ No way, I’m out.”

“You’re right.”

“Alright, let’s prepare lunch.”

She tells me all about her morning while cooking, and once it’s done, we sat on the sofa and watch the news on the TV.

“And now”, the news presenter said, “we’re moving on to a topic that a lot of French people will be entertained about and that will surely be in a lot of conversations: the Football World’s Cup! It will take place in Russia…”

“They’re gonna be damn cold over there,” Louisa commented. “It will be in summer, though, so maybe the weather will be hotter, don’t you think?”

“Girl, do I look like a weather girl to ya?”

“We got an exclusive entry in the team’s base, Clairefontaine,” the presenter went on, “to follow the preparation to a competition that could very well change French football’s history, the players and a lot of people’s lives.”

A few days later, it was barely awake and running that I arrived at work. Damn alarm o’clock not even capable of ringing. I barely had passed the glass doors when one of the secretaries, Virginie, called for me.

“Miss Gabrielle! The Director of Operations called, she wants to see you in her office as soon as now.”

Nice, awful day coming up. When I started working here, I asked for my mother to only be called “the Director of Operations” when she gave me a message, and thankfully, they all accepted.

“Alright, I’ll go now. Thank you!”

Sighing, I took the elevator and looked at my phone. Shit, I’m fifteen minutes late. I fixed my hair as much as I could, as I didn’t want to give my mother other things to criticize. I arrived on the last floor, where my parents and brother worked. The door of my brother’s office was closed, poor thing probably having asked to start work later in the day. What a jerk. I greeted my mother’s assistant and knocked at my mother’s door.

“Come in.”

I obliged and saw her, as I expected, classily dressed up, sitting behind her desk with a piece of paper in front of her.

“You’re late.” She commented, her eyes still on the paper.

“Sorry, I didn’t w-”

“I do not care.”

She looked up to me and rolled her eyes.

“Well, do not stand here like an idiot, sit down.”

“Thanks.” I mumbled, and then sat.

“That shirt is horrendous, Gabrielle,” she commented again, “I already told you to throw it away.”

“I can leave, if you want, that way you won’t have to look at it,” I retorted, pretending to get up.

“Don’t play silly with me. If I told you to come, it’s for something really serious.”

Wow, I would have never guessed.

“Go on, then.”

“You’ve been working here for years now, and if I admit the work you’ve been doing until now is average, but you have yet to be given great responsibilities.”

“One would wonder why,” I muttered.

“But I decided it was time to change that. That’s why you will be organizing the next gala.”

“You’re going on a vacation?” I asked, confused.

“Of course not,” she said as if I was an idiot, “but I think it’s time for you to finally do something correct.”

“It’s ironic for you to call my work ‘correct’, giving that you’re the one in charge of giving your approval to everything that concerns the company’s galas”, I noted with a small laugh. “If you don’t love what I’m doing, why is everything I send you immediately approved?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” she screamed with a now pink face, hitting her desk with her hand.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me jump. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“I have until next month, I guess?”

“No, the gala you’re going to organize is taking place on May 31thst.”

Wonderful.

“Why do you want to have another gala so soon? Generally, we have one per month.”

“A lot of important people I wanted to invite to last week’s gala were on vacation, they’re back now. Here, here is a list of people I want at your gala. The money we’ll get will be use to send medical equipment and medications to poor countries, where ill people greatly miss medical care.”

I took the paper she put in front of me and quickly read it. I knew a few names of it but most of the guests are strangers.

“Can I invite other people? We haven’t invited Mr. Valere in, like, a year-”

“No, that list is enough. Don't send me the ideas you might have, they'll be terrible.”

I already know my ideas were going to be rejected, so I wasn't even going to try.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna get to work. Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk about the last gala.”

“I can’t organize that one,” I remarqued.

“Your brother told me what you did. This is just indecent, Gabrielle, I cannot believe you did this!”

I had almost forgot about the accident, since Noah, who I barely saw, never talked to me again about it.

“Indecent?” I exclaimed. “And how would you call cheating on your girl with your ex, and cheat on your new girl with your new ex? Because that’s what your precious little boy is doing! He can bang every girl he meets, I couldn’t care less, but he could do it one by one, for the love of God!”

“I told you not to speak to me like that! I’ve had enough of you, get out of here before I really get angry.”

Without answering her, I left the room. I walked past Noah’s office on my way to the elevator, but at the last second, I decided to go visit dear momma’s boy. I open the door without knocking and find him sitting. He sees me, and, confused, opens his mouth but I’m faster:

“Hey, you swine, next time you’ve got a problem with me, come tell me face to face instead of going crying to our mother like a fucking kid. Does she still change your diaper? Is it also her that put your condom on when you’re cheating on your girlfriends? Stupid asshole.”

Before he could answer, I slammed the door and took the elevator. It feels good to scream a little, I’ll admit. I’m still tensed when I arrive on my usual floor and greet my coworkers. I sat, and decide to make a list of things to do for the gala, and another for the possible services I’ll have to hire. Once it’s done, I get up and walk to Estelle, who’s in charge of the financial floor.

“Estelle? Can I have a word with you?”

“Sure!” she said with a smile.

“My mother asked me to take care of the next gala…”

“My, that’s wonderful, Gaby, congrats!”

“Yeah, thank you. Would you mind doing an estimation of the night? I’ll only have to add the room.”

“Sure, I’ll give to you asap.”

“Awesome, thanks a lot.”

I went back to my desk and spent the rest of the morning looking for a place. It needs to be both beautiful, otherwise my mother will say I have no taste, and cheap, or she’ll accuse me of ruining the company. Once it’s passed noon, I left quickly, wanting to get back home as soon as I could.

*-*

I slammed the door behind me, saying insults I held back for the whole morning. I threw my bag and my shoes on the corridor’s entrance. In the living room, I found Louisa reading a book for college.

“Well, well”, she said. “Who is it, your mother or your brother?”

“Both,” I mumbled.

I tell her everything, and she laughs when I tell her Noah told my mother everything.

“It was obvious he would do it, your brother’s got nothing down there. It’s surprising how much girls he gets, actually.”

“I don’t care that my mother knows or if she screams at me, she can’t do anything else, but the principle of snitching is revolting me.”

“Of course.”

“When I had a problem with him, I didn’t go cry to our parents. They weren’t even there, for God’s sake!”

“Nah, you, you just tried to kill him.” She laughed.

“Come on, let it go, it was just one time.”

When I was six, Noah and I got into a fight, and he made me so anrgy so that I took a casserole from the kitchen and hit him on the head with it once or twice – okay, maybe like five times. He had a bump, and I got a severe punishment, and I regret absolutely nothing.

“It’s not like he never slapped me.”

“Touché. Tatiana used to hit me too when we were kids.”

“Yeah, but it was just giving little slaps behind the head, and anyways your sister is awesome. I would sell Noah and a kidney in a second to have her as a sister.”

Tatiana was Louisa’s older sister, and I adored her. Louisa and she were really close, and she always saw me as a sister – which was reciprocal. Yes Tatiana was awesome, but sadly, her parents disagreed on that.

“You’re right,” she laughed again. “Alright, I’m starving to death, let’s eat.”

After lunch, I wanted to continue preparing the gala, but Louisa convinces me to take a nap, and I eventually give up. I wake up barely rested, but calmed down. At the end of the afternoon, Louisa came back from college, agitating the small bag in her hand.

“Since I’m the best BFF in the world, I took éclairs at the bakery on my way back!”

“Aw, you’re adorable, thank you!”

I kissed her on the cheek to thank her, and we eat the snack while she tells me about her afternoon. Later on, she proposes to order pizza, which I gladly accept, and we spend the night laughing and complaining about our dreadful families while thanking heaven for knowing each other.

*-*

The day after, I find the perfect place, and announced on the company’s website the date and place of the gala on the 31st of May. Then it’s time to pick the caterer. The one my mother usually chooses is excellent, but to mess with her, I’m gonna pick another one. After one hour of research and phone calls, I find one who’s price is a bit high but with a very good reputation. I go the “communication floor” to talk about the invitations, and I find Sabrina, a pretty brunette entering her forties, waiting for me. We quickly agree on everything, and I give total freedom, as before I arrived, she was the one taking care of the invitations and was doing a fantastic job. She shows me the article she wrote to announce the date and place for the gala, and I approve it immediately. After I leave, I wonder if I should see my mother to tell her the organization is going well, but she’ll send me just send me to hell. Two hours later, my day is done and I decide to go get groceries. I go to the supermarket and park my car when my phone starts ringing. I expect it to be Louisa, but to my surprise, it’s Sabrina.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Gabrielle, it’s me again. I’m sorry to bother you…”

“No, it’s more than fine,” I assure her.

“I got a call about the next gala,” she said.

“Right…” I say, inviting her to go on.

“It’s from certain people who asked to come to the gala.”

“Who is it? Do we know them?”

“Well, more or less.”

Well, well.

“Who is it?”

“Didier Deschamps.”

“The National Football Team’s Coach?” I exclaimed.