This was going to be fun. Fun for Caesar at least.
Yvette Balan. Miss Controversy. His favourite little plaything. Not that she was his, but ever since she became a model she has been more and more fun to irritate. Especially since he's been in her life since diapers. So now that his best friend, Michael Balan, had hired him to be her publicist, this would be the most fun he'd ever had.
Despite that fact that he is the PR guy, Caesar Alves desperately needed a PR guy- good thing he wasn't famous- but that's probably what made him so good at his job, he could understand where his clients were coming from and he was awfully good at fixing his own and other people's issues. Some of the biggest challenges in a person's career would be fixed easily by the snap of his fingers. What could he say? He was that good at his job.
So here it is. Yvette's penthouse. Smaller than he'd imagined. With all her wealth and tendency to show off, it really surprised him that the apartment was just like any he had ever seen. White marble counters, sleek and smooth appliances, the pinnacle of boring. He expected better from her. Her, who sat right across from her with the most annoyed scowl he'd seen since childhood. At least he could always expect that from her, hell would freeze over before she ever shot him a warm look.
"Miss Balan." He drawled, voice smoothed and honeyed.
"Prick-face." Such a lovely little nickname, wasn't it?
"Come now, can't you treat me with an ounce of respect?" Even though it sounded like a question, he already knew the answer. It wasn't really a question, he just knew asking it would piss her off. Which, by the deepening of her scowl, told him it worked.
"Caesar, Stop antagonising my sister." Michael chimed in, dryly. Caesar almost forgot this was a business meeting. Of sorts. "It's like neither of you can be professional."
"Isn't that the reason we're all sitting here? Because someone can't be professional?" Caesar's joke was met with more deadly glare and major disinterest. The awkwardness making him suck a breath in through his teeth. "Tough crowd." He muttered to himself. This comment was met with an eye roll from Yvette.
"Dipshit," Her voice was somewhat imperative.
"'Vette, don't call me that."
"Can you tell this prick that you so,'graciously' brought into my home to fuck off?" How Caesar loved their relationship. He snickered to himself, entertained by her prolonged eye contact and witty remarks.
Michael sighed heavily, he truly did not want to be here but he's the one who put himself in this spot. "Yvette, please. Can you behave for a second?"
"Yeah, 'Vette. Just like you did on that yacht." He could feel her eyes burn into him.
"Get out."
"Yvette." Her eye twitched as her brother spoke."Alright you too, I have a meeting in around an hour, so play nice and please let's get this over with." The dark bags under Michaels eyes said enough.
Yvette's jaw tightened. Her smooth, olive toned skin developing stress lines which couldn't be great for her job. "Fine." She managed, her jaw still clenched as the words escaped her lips.
The meeting went by pretty quick, especially with Caesar and Michael doing all the work whilst Yvette sulked in the corner. Once everything was settled, Yvette had promptly kicked both her brother and newly hired publicist out of her house, not even being kind enough to offer tea. What ever happened to hospitality?
Caesar had arrived home to his villa, and as he exited his uber (tipping the driver £20 for the speed) he couldn't help but recall Yvette's pout. The way her soft, glossy lips pulled downwards in displeasure. It was gorgeous. Caesar smirked to himself. He'd always liked Yvette. Her beauty, her attitude, the way she'd quip back when he teased.
Like he already thought; This was going to be fun.