Shay Inc. Towers

Out of the lobby and into the elevator. Victoire tapped her foot and crossed her arms. Why was she here? Her mother had phoned her. But bringing her to America on such short notice... What was up? The elevator doors opened and she stepped out into a hallway. The office doors lay ahead of her. She checked up on her make up before she even attempted to enter.

Victoire closed her eyes and ground her teeth for a second before turning and smiling. She snapped her compact shut and grinned. "Chris Shay! Long time no see! How are you?" she asked, her eyes sweeping over him. She adjusted the sleeve of her shirt and flipped her blonde hair again.

Victoire laughed. She twirled her hair in her fingers and didn't care if he noticed her eyes roving over him. "Bad boys are usually seen as hot. And you look well yourself. Have you been working out, Chris? Or done something with your hair? You look... a little different."

Victoire sent him her best smile and flipped her hair again, still unhappy with how it looked. "So what's the deal? Why're we here?"

Victoire laughed again and stepped inside. Then she immediately stopped to compose herself again. Up ahead, her parents stood with Mrs Shay. Her father smiled fondly at Victoire and opened his arms. For a moment, Victoire forgot herself and ran to her father, hugging him. "DADDY!" she yelled as she ran to him.

"Hello, princess," Mr Capulet greeted his daughter. Mrs Capulet cleared her throat and the man let his daughter go, kissing his daughter on the forehead.

"You go to camp?" Victoire asked, raising an eyebrow. Inside, she had a million mocking quips ready to burst out. "I didn't know that."

She put her hair behind her ears and cocked her head at him curiously. Then she turned to the adults, wondering what this was about. "So... What's up? Is there financial troubles? I won't have to back up on my shopping will I? Lilian just bought this amazing dress and I need to outshine her at this party tomorrow."

Mrs Capulet raised an eyebrow. "Party? Where?"

"Oh not far from home. It's in central London," Victoire shrugged.

"Sit down," Mr Capulet gestured and his daughter did as she was told.

Mrs Capulet sent the other woman a look. "No. No, I think since this was all your idea, you should," said the British lady.

Mr Capulet rolled his eyes at his wife. "Chris, please sit down. You might need the chair. We've decided you two need to date."

Victoire's eyes widened. One word and she instantly hated Chris. She stood up. "WHAT?! WHAT?! I'D RATHER GIVE UP SHOPPING! I'D RATHER LIVE ON THE STREETS OF LONDON LIKE SOME POOR COMMON BEGGAR!"

"Victoire," Mr Capulet said warningly. "Sit. Down. Apologize."

"S'rry," she muttered and crossed her arms.

"Both of our companies have gotten some bad press lately. It seems the media thinks that for some odd reason, we are at wars with one another. So for publicity, Victoire, sweetie, meet your new boyfriend," said Mrs Capulet.

Victoire refused to look anywhere but the floor. OK. Stop. Think. You like this guy. You get along when you meet. He's hot. Insanely hot. OK... So he's really, really hot. Shut up, Brain. Get back to it. Right, so... Think how many girls would kill to be in your place. Millions! Do it. You don't have to be happy about it, Victoire. Not on the outside when the cameras and press aren't around.

This peaked Victoire's interest. "Cynder?" she asked, moving her hair behind her ear again. "Girlfriend? Girl who is a friend?"

Her parents ignored her. "OK. Well... Victoire, you may go to the party tomorrow. Oh wait. No. The party is in London. You can't go there yet... The press here need to see you first."

"And here I was thinking that my loving parents would let me go to the social event of the year," Victoire said dryly.

"Uhuh. Well... It seems I've got nothing to do tomorrow... Or today... I planned to shop for the perfect dress then take the jet home," Victoire sighed and stood up. She hugged her mother and father before heading toward the door.

"Oh, and Victoire? Don't dump him," Mr Capulet called after her.

Victoire sent him a look which read as "you can leave me alone now" and then started twirling her hair again. "Daddy... Why are we doing this if there isn't anything we can even pretend at?"

"That would be the purpose of the press outside," chirped Mrs Capulet before ushering her daughter out of the room.

"British guys are like the American ones without the cute accents you guys have," Victoire shrugged and stepped inside. She started playing with her hair absent mindedly. "And actually, it seems like more Germanic guys like me. With the odd rise and fall of the Australians... The guys over there seem so temperamental..."

Then she realized what her mother had said and closed her eyes. She cussed quietly and sighed. "My mother said something about the press?"

Victoire saw the flashing cameras and instantly smiled. She relaxed, used to the routine by now. "Aw. I guess we got told on," said the Brit and pouted. She sighed and shrugged. Victoire waved a little at the cameras and waited for Chris to make a move to leave or something. Oh never mind... She took his hand and started to move through the crowd. If he wanted to stop for an interview, he'd have to stop her by yanking on her hand.

Only Victoire's eyes told how alarmed she was. "I don't know. I kinda just want to get out of here," Victoire told him. He's cute when he's like this... He's cute anyway.

Victoire stopped moving for a moment, the entrance stuffed with cameras and reporters. "And I don't know what to do now..."

Oh wow... Oh wow... Oh wow... Her mind was on loop as she kissed him back. She loved it. She enjoyed it. Heck, she wanted more. Don't stop this moment...