Disclaimer- This story and characters are mine, any resemblance to real life is purely coincidential.

Please let me know what you think of this story. )

Chapter One

Mr Jared. Mr I'm – so- sexy – and – happen – to – be- the- boss-of -a -multi-million-pound- business- Jared. His father was the CEO of "Russ Enterprises" and when the old man passed away, Mr Jared inherited it. With his sea blue eyes, black hair that just brushed the top of his collar and bronzed skin, he looked like a Greek God (the bastard). He was one of the biggest banes of my existence. Why, I hear you ask? Well, he expects everything to be done in a certain way, for example: main designs to be completed on A3 layout paper only, using black fine liners and coloured magic markers, to give the client a better feeling for the design.

Time consuming and stupidly tedious? Yes, but hey, that's the design world for you. He thinks that because we are one of those big "top" design companies that everything has to be done perfectly, heaven forbid you use cheap felt tip pens from W H Smith. He complains that it looks tacky and streaky. If you don't mind I happen to prefer those pens, they're not as bulky in the hand.

So here I am sat at my desk re-doing my sketches for the esteemed Law firm "Leon Molivo", when he saunters out of his office in his grey Armani suit. I'm praying that he doesn't stop by my desk, but God never listened to me during my 22 years of life, why would he start now?

He slithers his way over to my desk, smiling at the particularly attractive young woman sat behind her desk opposite his office. He practically oozes arrogance. Prick.

"Mr Arbarca, I hope the designs for "Leon's" are well on the way," he says with his stupidly cultured English accent. By the by, not all of us speak like we have something wrong with our vocal chords, in fact I'd say most of the English public don't pronounce half of the syllables they're supposed to.

I resisted the urge to role my eyes and smiled sweetly.

"Just one moment please." I rummaged through the countless piles of paper work thrown about my desk until I came across a manila folder with the heading "Leon Molivo" across the 

top. "Here you are sir," I attempted to keep the contempt from my voice while saying "sir", but alas some of my dislike must have been present, as he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Anything the matter Mr Arbarca?" he queried with a false sense of interest.

I re-attached my smile and replied, "Of course not, Sir. I was just wondering whether the project designer for the new hospital ward had been appointed yet." Rule one -stick to a safe topic; after all I figured I knew the answer (and what the fuck I was doing with the Molivo project? Not a clue).

Anyway, the new hospital ward at St.George's for children who suffer from heart conditions was scheduled to be opened within a few months, halfway through the project the chief designer had decided to up and leave without a word and the project grinded to a halt. Everyone had been frantically searching for someone suitable and I had heard on the grapevine that they'd finally struck gold.

Mr Jared smiled, his blue eyes lighting up. It would've made me swoon except I knew he was a total man whore. I mean c'mon, even I've got more class.

"Yes, we have. He comes highly recommended, recently moved from the States. He has a reference list the length of my arm. We're lucky to have him." I hummed in a way that hopefully showed I gave a damn, and casually checked my watch to see how long I had before the end of the day. Two hours? You've gotta be kidding me. I mentally groaned.

"That's great, Sir." I relayed with false enthusiasm.

"Yes, you'll be meeting him on Monday, to go over the general concepts of the design." Oh crap, is he still going on? Bugger off already.

I try to hold back rolling my eyes.

"That's great, Sir. I can't wait to finally get this project rolling again," He smiled and nodded, turning away so he could saunter back into his office. I bet he just came out to piss me off.

One hour and thirty minutes later, and about 10 re-sketches for the "Molivo" project, I was well and truly ready to go home. Half an hour left, and then the weekend truly kicks in. Oh 

weekend, how I love thee! Friday night is the best time for me. My best friend Tony and I hit the clubs every Friday, in hopes of trying to find someone to hook up with.

I bet you're thinking "I thought he said he had class?" Well, I lied. I just dislike Mr Jared so much that I would rather shove my dick into a vacuum cleaner than so much as throw a lewd look his way.

Finally 5 o'clock rolls round and I hastily leave my desk, nearly knocking over my chair in my pure need to get the fuck out of there. The lift down 10 floors seems to last forever but finally I'm out onto the wet, busy streets of central London. Ah, summer in England- it's much like the winter, apart from a tiny bit warmer…just as wet though.

I squelched my way through the streets until I finally ended up at my modest apartment block, a short bus ride away from Hyde Park. Great for when gigs are on. It's only 6 floors high and I live on the third floor. There's an old lift that nobody ever uses because the likelihood that you'd get out of there alive is not very high and the landlord is too stingy to get it fixed. He's also on my hate list. I swear to God it gets longer every time I leave the safety of my apartment.

I climbed the stairs, which have been used so much that the concrete's almost worn away. And finally making it to the third floor, my breath heaving as I lug my sorry ass up the last two stairs. Ugh you'd think I'd be used to these after living here for 2 years, but hey, go figure.

I rummaged through my bag, while walking to apartment "325" and pulled my keys out. I shoved them into the lock and after much wriggling around finally heard the click of the lock. I kicked the door open, cursing under my breath at the stupid thing and slammed it shut. Yeah, fuck you too.

I dumped my bag near the door and hung my coat up on the rack. My apartment's surprisingly clean…for a bloke. The main room is open plan, in neutral colours; browns and creams, with a pine floor. When you get past the door, the kitchen's on the right and the lounge on your left. There's a small hallway at the back of the room where the bedroom and bathroom are. My bathroom is spotless, honestly! There's nothing worse than having a filthy room where you go to get clean and do your business, puts you right off.

I wandered through the lounge and saw that my answer machine's flashing. I punched the "play" button. My best friend's voice rings through the silent apartment.

"Yo José. Hope you're ready to part-hey! I so wanna find me some ass tonight! I saw this fit guy the other day gave him my number and was like "call me". Hopefully we're gonna meet up tonight. Anyway, I'm off topic. This new guy moved into the apartment next door to mine, he's not from around here and doesn't know anyone. So I invited him out with us, hope you don't mind! See ya later. Oh! You better be ready on time, or I'm leaving your sorry ass to walk to "George's"" The tinny beep that signalled the end of the message barked out of the machine. I stifled a laugh. Tony really does blabber on.

I made myself a quick dinner of mac and cheese, then showered and changed making sure I checked the clock. One hour…record time. I'd decided to wear tight jeans that clung to my butt and flared out a bit when they reached my calves and a tight green t-shirt that matched the colour of my eyes. To complete the look I'd shoved on some old converses and a black jacket. I'd changed my glasses to contacts; Tony says I look better without them.

The door bell drilled its annoying sound into my head; I'm gonna smash it one day. I grabbed my phone, wallet and keys from the table near the door and went to answer it. Tony was stood there wearing this huge cheeky grin. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked good. Tight jeans encased his legs and a black button up was left half way undone, showing off his chest…fucks his abs are tighter than his ass! I tried not to drool.

"C'mon man, get a move on," he whined. "Awan's waiting in the car."

I scowled, Awan? Who the hell's he? I voiced my thoughts causing Tony to chuckle.

"Man, do you ever pay attention to the messages I leave you?" I gave him a blank look. "He's the guy that moved in next door to me, I offered to show him around since he's not from around here."

Ahhh, so that's who it was.

We stalked down the stairs chatting animatedly about our week, when I stopped dead. In Tony's beat up ford fiesta was the most stunning man I had ever laid eyes on.

Long dark black hair, so dark that it almost looked blue, tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had high cheek bones and full lips. His skin had a gorgeous tan. His eyes were…wow: a dark brown, full of warmth and could pierce you with one calculating gaze.

I was currently on the receiving end of said gaze. It made my knees go weak. Tony stopped at the driver's side and turned around when he realised I'd stopped.

"Yo José! Stop spacing out and get your ass into the car!" I fought down the blush that threatened to overtake my features and hurriedly jumped into the passenger seat.

"José, this is Awan. Awan meet my best friend José," I chanced a look into the back of the car and found myself capture in his gaze again.

A small smile found his lovely lips, "Nice to meet you José."

Oh my god, he's American, I think I just died and went to heaven.