The Devil Disguised - ✦ A Robert Downey Jr Fan Fiction ✦

Chapter Seventeen - Christmas Ball

Author's note

Hi guys! Just a heads up, this chapter gets a little...spicy...if you know what I mean. *wink* *wink*. Let me know what you think, I'm a little rusty so I hope you enjoy it!👀

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"Well done everybody, that's a wrap!" Robert announces, followed by a chorus of cheers and party poppers. The Winter Edition has been published, printed and sent out to suppliers. It's officially Christmas break, and we don't have to be back in the office until January 2nd 2020. Dozens of corks begin erupting from the necks of Laurent-Perrier bottles, and the fizzy champagne fills a hundred glasses before anybody can say the words Merry Christmas. Will was never really one to shed festive spirit, so it's pretty alien to us all—though it seems to have been a well-adopted stance by Runway employees. Robert appears to have earned everyone's respect now, even though everyone still, like I did, believes Will is returning at some point. Still, here we all are at work on a Saturday, only four days before Christmas. I can't say I've ever enjoyed working on a Saturday before, but in fairness it's a rare occurrence. Today though, with the thirty-ninth floor of the Elias Clark building sprinkled with Christmas decorations and smiles all around, it's hard to call this 'working'.

Casper approaches me clutching one champagne flute in each hand. "Merry Christmas darling," he says, handing me one of the flutes brimming with Laurent-Perrier.

"Merry Christmas Casper, and a hopefully Happy New Year!" I reply, clinking the glass that's now in my hand against the glass that's in his.

"Are you excited for later?" Casper wiggles his eyebrows excitedly above the small round spectacles, with a huge grin adding to the joy plastered across his face.

"For the ball? Of course I am!" I take a sip of the champagne, feeling the fizz against my lips and tongue.

"There's going to be so much celebrity attendance, I might even try and seduce somebody," he mutters with his hand placed next to his mouth, as if to protect his words from on-listeners. I chuckle.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine, just be sure to choose wisely."

"As long as they're rich and famous, I'm—good afternoon, Robert!" Casper exclaims, suddenly noticing his presence just behind my right shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Casper. Enjoying the champers?" Robert replies in a casual tone, one hand stuffed into his jacket pocket and the other clasping a glass flute of his own.

"Certainly. A fabulous choice." After pretending to hear someone call his name, Casper scuttles off, leaving Robert and I in each other's company amongst the room full of people.

"You okay?" Robert asks, edging a little closer and standing at a lesser distance than you'd expect an editor-in-chief and his assistant to stand. I nod my head and smile while gazing up into his eyes.

"Yup, you?"

"Yup." Robert scuffs his smart shoes against the marble floor and looks down at the ground. I know what he's thinking. He's thinking that it's hard to act professional, pretend our relationship is no more than work-related. He's thinking of what to say when our only conversation should be about work. I know what he's thinking, because I'm thinking the exact same thing. When he lifts his head back up to look me in the eye, I feel an urge to just leap at him. It's so easy to lose yourself in those great, big, chocolate pools. "Oh, I—" he stutters as though suddenly remembering something. He pats his suit jacket before reaching into the inside pocket. When he pulls his hand back out, in it lies a long, thin box. "It's nothing major, but I figured I may as well give it to you while we're still here." I place my glass of champagne on a table a couple meters away as hands me the box, allowing me to use both hands to carefully unwrap it. It's a fountain pen. Despite all that waffle he gave me in his office, he still paid attention. I can't help but giggle, while Robert stands with the glass of champagne in one hand and the other buried in his pocket once again. Maybe he's worried he'll try and touch me; I kinda wish I had pockets to hold me back. I take the well-weighted, silver fountain pen out of the box to read the engraved text on the side of it: