Devils Don't Fly

“How did I know I’d find you here, Mister Stark?” I ask as I walk into the very bar I met him a couple nights prior. “Do you plan to drink yourself into another stupor?”

“Does it really matter?” He asks, looking at me briefly before returning his gaze to his Scotch. “Why do you care so much about me drinking myself into a stupor?”

“If you drink yourself to death, who would sign my paychecks?” I question him, earning a humorless chuckle. “Does it matter why I care? Is it such a crazy idea that a girl, who doesn’t want to sleep with you, could care about your well being?”

Silence falls between us. Howard downs the rest of his Scotch and the bartender promptly walks over, preparing to refill the glass. He stops when I put my hand over the glass, “I highly suggest you walk away. I’m cutting Mister Stark off seeing as though you won’t.”

“Don’t listen to her,” he scoffs, pushing my hand away, “give me another drink.”

The bartender looks at me then at Howard before going to pour the drink. I grab his arm, yanking him forward; causing the bottle of aged Scotch to fall on the ground, smashing into tiny shards of glass. “I said he’s done. I’m sure you are gonna want to walk away now before things get even uglier.”

The bar is silent and I can feel all eyes on me, including Howards. I turn towards him and smile sweetly before guiding him off the barstool. “Where are we going?” He asks as I hold onto his elbow, escorting him out of the bar; eyes watching us as we do.

“We’re going home, darling.” I smile, “we’ve got to have a serious chat about your drinking habits…”

**

“Why are you so worried about my drinking habits?” Howard asks as we walk into his townhome. He kicks off his shoes and stumbles to the bar, pulling out a glass and some Bourbon.

“Because,” I begin as I walk over and take the glass and bottle from him, “I feel it is my mission as your assistant to make sure you are alive.”

“I could always fire you, assistants are easy to replace.” He shrugs, walking away from the wet bar; knowing I don’t let him touch a drink. I think he’s too tired to fight back.

“But you won’t.” I confidently say, a smirk on my lips. “You find me intriguing. I’m not like all the other girls in the office that are willing to sleep with you. You like that I’m not throwing myself at you. You like the challenge.”

“So confident,” he smirks as he swaggers over to me, stopping right in front of me. Our faces are mere inches away from each other.

“Confidence is the key to everything, especially in the business word; am I right Mister Stark?”

“You can still be easily replaced,” he smirks, looking down at my lips before returning his gaze to my eyes.

“I’m not going to sleep with you, not now nor ever.” I smirk before backing away, “you can fire me all you want Mister Stark, it really is your call.”

“Do you have a man back home, Miss Marx?” He asks, causing my heart to stop before skipping a beat.

“Something like that,” I reply, “he’s a lot like you, you know? Which is probably why I worry about you and your drinking habits. Self-destructive behavior isn’t attractive.”

“And you’d know about that, wouldn’t you?” He asks.

“Apparently.” I shrug, “since I can’t keep him safe, you know damn well I’m going to keep you safe.”

“Again, why do you care?”

“Because, Mister Stark,” I smile, “you sign my paycheck. I take it you can handle yourself for the rest of the evening?”

“You have no point in staying, do you?” He asks, “you’re not going to sleep with me anyway.”

“I guess you’re right.” I smile. “Goodnight Mister Stark.” Just as I turn to walk away,

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, right?” I hear Howard call to me.

“Of course, Mister Stark.” I look over my shoulder, smiling at him...