Chapter Text
Nathalie never wanted to murder Penny.
That was a lie. A blatant lie the brunette would tell herself regularly.
She only wanted to murder her long-time girlfriend when she got home late. ‘Two in the morning’ late. ‘Two in the morning and your partner wakes up at six for work’ late.
She could survive, if she went to bed at nine, got six hours of un-interrupted sleep, and then four more hours. Too bad she was an adult with responsibilities, including a teenager and an ornery boss.
Penny slipped into bed, and Nathalie rolled over, wrapping an arm around her short, squishy girlfriend. “I hate you.” She murmured.
Nathalie’s girlfriend was already asleep however, which was rather unfair. Nathalie took ages to fall asleep, and Penny was a deadweight before her head hit the pillow.
“Are you sure you want me to live with you?” Penny asked her, several days later, over Nathalie’s rare lunch break.
She frowned, “We discussed this. I’m sure.”
Her eyebrows arched. “That’s the thing about communicative relationships. I’m checking in, here.”
That got an eye roll out of the executive assistant. “Yes. I’m sure. Yes, I want to continue seeing you. Yes, my schedule doesn’t really allow for a relationship. Yes, it would be easier to date you if we were living together.”
Penny glared at her, biting back a smile as Nathalie adopted a smirk behind the day’s third cup of coffee.
“No, I don’t regret coming to that conclusion, and no, the change in my sleeping schedule doesn’t bother me.” She added.
The woman crossed her arms and leaned back. “I’m not that predictable.” Penny told her in a dignified huff.
Nathalie hummed. “How’s the studio today?”
“Jagged is still trying to find himself.”
XXX
“I’ll fetch coffee.” Nathalie stood, glancing down at Jagged Stone and his new assistant. She knew her boss’s order, she knew Jagged’s order, she knew Jagged’s mother’s order, but Penny was a wildcard. “What would you like, Ms. Rolling?”
When Jagged’s mother assisted the rising star, it had been easier on Nathalie’s nerves. Eleanor had easily bent to Gabriel Agreste’s assistant, Eleanor found her charming, somehow. Hell, Eleanor Stone had sent Nathalie holiday cards.
Penny Rolling did not balk at the sight of Nathalie, who was incredibly tall, and as icy as her boss. She was a nice woman wrapped up in a layer of barbed wire. She did not conceal her good heart well enough to fool anyone.
“An Americano would be fantastic, thank you.” Penny had looked up, making a point to meet Nathalie with her golden-brown eyes.
She made sure to keep her expression beyond bored.
An Americano would be fantastic, thank you. Nathalie felt herself internally mocking her, and then shock as she turned. Why was she automatically inclined to disliking Penny Rolling? Her thoughts turned to horror, because she had no true reason to dislike everything about her. Smothering her feelings down into the deep pit of Tartarus where they belonged, Nathalie strolled into the kitchen of the mansion to make drink.
She was good at that. Somehow, she landed a job as a barista in a local café in her teens, between a patisserie and a Chinese massage parlor. Making coffee had continued to be second nature. Nathalie’s first act as Gabriel’s assistant was to throw out all of the coffee beans in the house, in favor of superior ones.
Nathalie carried back a small tray of coffees, fully expecting to have to put the three of them back on track. Gabriel, as professional as he was, indulged with Jagged, as they had known each other for decades. Eleanor had encouraged it, as she had taught Mrs. Agreste piano when she was a teenager. They were family. It was all very bittersweet, and Nathalie always had to get them to refocus on whatever task they had decided to tackle that day.
Strolling back into Gabriel’s office, she had found them still discussing the costuming of one of Jagged’s music videos. It was not a big shock, but Nathalie could only stare at the back of Penny’s head and wonder how she tackled the two creatives.
Then she questioned why she was so impressed to begin with. Doing one’s job wasn’t anything to write home. Penny Rolling was not—had not proven to be—exemplarily.
XXX
“You took down her contact information, Nathalie?” Gabriel turned to her, as soon as Jagged Stone and his assistant.
Nathalie kept her voice cool. “I had not, sir. I assumed you had taken her business card.”
He glanced away, back at the door. “Ms. Rolling commented that she had not had the time to get business cards printed.”
She exhaled, and did her best to gracefully run towards the front door, down the steps, and meet the pair on the street.
In a swarm of paparazzi. Fantastic.
“Ms Rolling!” Nathalie easily brushed aside reporters (they were threatened by her years ago). “I never took down your contact information.”
She let out a breathy sigh, as Jagged stepped into the car, Penny turned back to the assistant, ignoring the cameras around them. They wouldn’t end up in the paper anyway. “Of course.” She took Nathalie’s phone, shooting her a wry look, “You could’ve just e-mailed me, however.”
Nathalie felt the blood drain from her face. Bonehead. “Yes, of course.”
“Heat of the moment?” The purple-haired woman quipped, “Your boss made you panic about not having my information?”
“Something along those lines.” She glanced away, clasping her hands behind her back.
“Or you wanted my number.” Penny’s eyes sparkled, trying to meet the shallow blue pools behind Nathalie’s glasses.
Mustering up her coldest glare, she took her phone back from the short girl, relishing in the height difference. “Have a lovely day, Ms. Rolling.”
She could not help but slam the mansion door behind her, and let out a huff. This was on the assumption that she was alone. The boy was off at some lesson and the boy’s father was supposed to be in the office working.
Instead, Gabriel had remained in the foyer, and now, he watched her collected herself. She stared at the ground for a moment, so she would resist the urge to lob her phone at his stupid smirk, his stupid raised eyebrow.
She glanced up, and exhaled. Adjusting the hem of her blazer so that she would not ball her fists, her mouth formed a thin, inscrutable line. “Everything should be in order, sir.”