Edited and reposted Jan 2007

Hey everyone. I know I know, I'm starting another story once again leaving my other ones unfinished. But don't worry if you've read any of my other stories. I'll get them done eventually, I've just hit another roadblock is all and unfortunately it is about 20ft high. But like I said all of my stories will be finished at one point or another and I hope that you all stick with me.

Sailor Moon does not belong to me however this story line is completely mine. It is completely AU so don't expect any spectacular transformations unless I get hit by a wall and decide to change my mind.

Anyway, on to the story and I hope that you all like it. DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!!

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Prologue: The Meeting

Darien Shields was the president and CEO of the largest Advertising and Law firm in London, Red Rose Enterprises. At seventeen, Darien became one of the youngest students to graduate from Oxford University. At twenty-one, he breezed into the business world by merging the advertising and law corporations into one large conglomerate. And instantly became a hit with the tabloids as a rags-to-riches kind of guy. His ideas were radical and refreshing, his work ethic, impeccable. Never had his firm lost a valid case, nor do an ad campaign and all due to their boss, who swept into steal the glory from his competitors, and the hearts of adoring young women when he rose to the top of the most eligible bachelor list at twenty-five. Now, at twenty-nine, Darien had made a name for himself. His steely exterior, tenacity and ability to convince even a bull into adoring the color red made him one of the most respected and highly regarded men in Europe.

The young entrepreneur woke early that Monday morning to the sound of his alarm ringing loudly. He grumbled and turned over in his large queen-sized bed. He pulled a pillow around his head in order to block the barrage of noise emanating from the irritating alarm clock. He turned on his side once more and smacked the metal object, attempting to stop its incessant ringing.

A timid knock came from the door on the far side of the large room. Darien, trying in vain to beat his alarm clock into submission, mumbled an almost inaudible response to the person beyond the large oak doors that creaked open to reveal an elderly man in a smoke-gray suit carrying a silver tray.

"Good morning Mr. Shields." The man said cheerfully as he entered the room and placed the tray on a large desk by the door. Darien mumbled a response, finally giving up his battle with the clock. Frustrated, he lay back down, allowing his head to sink comfortably into the large white pillow, his hands came up around his ears as he tried to ignore the clock's shrill cry. Suddenly the beeping stopped and Darien opened his eyes to see if his mental capabilities had grown so vast that he could render the clock mute.

"Thank you, Eldon." Darien said gratefully as he realized his butler had saved him from the ringing monster. Darien looked over to Eldon who was now in the process of opening the heavy drapes covering the floor to ceiling windows.

The butler chuckled at his employer's antics. While he was one of the brightest minds in Europe, at times he was your average non-morning twenty-eight-year-old. "You know sir, that there is a button to stop that alarm." Eldon walked over to the large table and fetched a hot cup of coffee form the tray, which he handed to the now propped-up Darien Shields.

"Yeah…well that bloody button always hides from me in the morning." Darien took a long sip from the cup. The hot black liquid burned as it slid down, but the feeling was most refreshing. He returned the cup to its saucer as he began to rise from his bed.

"So obviously, beating the thing was the best solution at the time?" Eldon said jokingly in a sarcastic way.

"Isn't it always?"

Darien stood; the large covers tossed aside as his feet touched the cold marble, instantly cooling his warm body as he yawned and slowly trudged over to his large bathroom.

"I take it that last night went well." Eldon was clearing up the coffee tray: Darien's head popped out from the bathroom, his nightshirt un-buttoned, draped upon his shoulders. His chest exposed to a cool morning breeze that blew in through the window.

"Why?"

Darien was on the defensive. He'd spent the night with a 'lady friend' and returned late. But he'd convinced himself no one had heard him return. "Now how can you assume that last night went well? For all you or anyone else knows, I could have had a terrible time." He was definitely getting worried. He knew he'd had a good time, but the whole population of London didn't need to know. He'd come home late the night before and he thought he'd been careful not to attract any attention from his staff. True, they were loyal to him, but money does have a habit of changing a person's loyalty and he didn't need any more tabloid slander right now.

"Don't worry sir. No one knows exactly how much fun you had. Besides, it's just an observation. I mean, you did return late last night." 'With your hair messed up and shirt un-tucked.' Eldon chuckled to himself. His employer had seemingly embarked upon another late night jaunt. But it was nothing surprising, late nights were a norm in the Shields house. The only difference was that last night Darien had returned unkempt as opposed to his normal neat fashion regardless of the hour.

He sighed, he loved Darien like a son, but if this young man didn't change his habits soon, he'd be a single man all his life. While Darien was probably, the most dedicated person he'd ever had the privilege to know; this only seemed to apply to his work. Women were a completely different story. They were all attracted to his money and his looks. Granted he reveled in it, using the power he had over women to his advantage, but one day, Eldon was sure his cockiness would come around and bite him on the ass. And secretly, he hoped it would.

Fifteen minutes later, Darien emerged from his bathroom; steam spilling out onto the floor. He walked to his closet with a towel wrapped around his waist showing off his well-toned muscles while drying his dark hair with another. The moment he entered his walk-in closet, he disappeared behind rows and rows of suits. The only hint that he was immersed within the maze of stylish clothing was a slightly muffled voice calling out to his butler, "Eldon, could you please read me my plans for the day?"

"Certainly sir…." Eldon then approached the silver platter on the large desk and picked up a black organizer. "9am -- Breakfast meeting with Mr. Worthington in La Rue Café. Then at eleven you have to be in your office…"

"What am I needed for in the office?" Darien hollered out.

"Not sure, sir, it just says 'office, meetings, and secretary -- Sue.'" Eldon read out the cryptic message and hoped Darien would figure it out on his own.

Darien groaned, "That means only Sue knows what I'm going to be needed for today. Very well, continue."

"At 3pm you will need to head over to the Broadcasting offices for a meeting with the CEO of the company in one of the conference rooms. It says here that the receptionist will tell you where to go. At 6pm, you have a dinner meeting with the head of the cancer community in regards to your funding for the gala, and at eight-thirty, you have a date with a Ms. Graster? What an interesting last name." Darien finally emerged from the closet, finishing off his tie as he exited. "She says she's Brazilian, but that name does sound strange doesn't it?"

He stood to his full height and gazed into the full-length mirror to his right, making sure everything was in order. "How do I look, Eldon?"

"Wonderful as always, sir; now you should get going, it takes 20 minutes to get to La Rue Café and it is already eight-forty."

"Right, see you later then." And with that, Darien breezed out of the house and into his silver Aston Martin waiting for him in the driveway. He started the ignition and easily maneuvered his car into traffic.

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One free breakfast and several office meetings later, the tall Darien Shields with his ebony hair walked into a cool air-conditioned office complex. The glass doors slid open as a soft voice rang high above the throng, the automated speaker welcoming its guests into the building. He walked casually towards the front desk. It was a sweltering ninety degrees outside and he was thankful for the invention of electricity and manmade temperature control, his shoes making -- soft clacking sounds -- as he approached the reception desk.

"Hello, could you tell me what floor the conferences are held in?" He asked politely, removing his dark sunglasses revealing deep dark-blue eyes, his suit jacket long forgotten in the back of his car. He waited patiently for the receptionist to get of the phone.

"I'm sorry, sir, could you repeat that?" A lady with honey-blond hair tied back in a ponytail questioned in a very strong American accent, her mouth taught, as she stared -- not at him, but at her computer.

"I was just wondering where the conference rooms are located." He gave her the once-over as he waited for her answer. She was a fair looking woman. Her blonde hair straight and smooth and her thin waist made her look more like a model than a receptionist. Her reply was taking so long that he began to doubt if she had heard his question and was frustrated when she began typing away furiously on the keyboard instead of responding to him.

He was about to repeat his question once again when he heard her voice ring out, "It depends on who you are here to meet." The girl moved her right hand to the mouse and began to click and double click all over the place. He wondered briefly if she was playing a game.

"Well, I'm here to meet with the CEO, Mr. Sanders." Her eyes lifted from the computer screen and she stared straight at him. Eyebrows raised, a look of disbelief evident on her face. She narrowed her eyes as if waiting for him to own up to his lie, or say something that would undermine his first statement. She looked as if she highly doubted someone as young as he would be having a meeting with the CEO. Finally, she straightened, continuing to glare at him, her eyes questioning his words. "I can assure you, I have an appointment with Mr. Sanders if that's what you are worried about."

He sighed; he obviously wasn't going to make his appointment early as he had hoped. It seemed as if this vixen was trying to make his life difficult. "Aren't you a little bit young to have a meeting with the CEO?" She looked him over. He was dressed nicely, in black dress pants that fit him too well to be store bought. The white button down shirt he wore neatly pressed and the black silk tie knotted perfectly around his neck completed the outfit. He scoffed at her remark. He didn't have to explain his age to anyone, especially not some receptionist.

"Aren't you a bit American to be working at the British Broadcasting Company?"

She scoffed and ignored his question, returning her gaze to the computer screen as her fingers flew over the keyboard "What is your name?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering her. "Shields, Darien Shields." He watched her type away on her keyboard as she hummed lightly to herself. He briefly noted that her voice was easy on the ear, once again wondering what was taking her so long and if she was doing anything productive. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me." He waited for her reply. "Excuse me." He was beginning to become impatient with the blonde, who had yet to give him any help.

"You're excused." She finally replied in an extremely calm voice. She tossed her hair and pushed her wheelie chair back. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked up at Darien. She let her eyes wander over him for a few moments noting how the shirt clung slightly to his broad shoulders. She cleared her throat and smiled. "You never answered my question. Aren't you a bit young to be meeting with the CEO?" Darien growled -- the nerve of this receptionist. Not only did she probably play games all day, she was no help and she was questioning his motives.

"Do you know who I am?" Anger was quickly rising within and it was beginning to show in his voice as well. He wanted to get to that meeting and here he was, stuck speaking to an American receptionist, who had no manners and obviously didn't know who he was.

"Sure I do, you're Darien Shields." She had a smug look on her face. She knew she was getting to this very handsome man standing in front of her and she loved it. She enjoyed the look on his face. "Don't you remember, you just told me?" She chuckled inwardly -- not exactly, the answer he wanted. But in truth, taunting him was starting to get fun.

Darien stared open-mouthed at her. He couldn't believe the nerve of this woman. She was obviously toying with him and he hated being toyed with. "Look, seeing as you probably don't know who I am, I'm just going to ask again for you to tell me where the conference room I need to be is." He attempted to keep his cool. He couldn't understand why he was so utterly angry with this blonde. People didn't get to him. People just did not get to Darien Shields. He thought her beautiful, but her attitude was a completely different story.

"Hey man, you still have fifteen minutes until you need to be in that conference so chill, talk."

"'Man...?' 'Chill...'what is that -- some kind of floozy American talk…?" Now she was beginning to get irritated. All she'd wanted to know was why some one who looked no older than herself was heading to a meeting with the CEO and here he was insulting the way she talked. "Excuse me, floozy? I am no floozy and there is nothing wrong with the way I talk. God, some of you Brits are such asses. I mean, what's so great about saying 'bloody' all the time."

"At least bloody doesn't imply sending some one to go sit on a block of ice and cool down!"

The blonde was now standing up and leaning over her desk in order to get closer to Darien. "Oh, but its fine to imply that hell is completely full of blood…?"

"And what do you mean by that?" The two voices of the combatants were beginning to escalate with each comment and though they were no more than 2 feet apart, they were communicating as if they had miles to cover before their sentences reached the other's ears.

"I mean that you put 'bloody' in front of hell all the time. Why not just say hell."

"Oh my god, if you want to get into expressions, why don't you just call people fuckers instead of motherfuckers? Why is it so much worse to be calling someone a motherfucker as opposed to a fucker? Cause implying that hell is full of blood is nothing compared to telling someone they shag the others mother."

"It's a freaking expression!"

"Just like bloody!" The two were beginning to attract looks from passers-by. Staff were beginning to get annoyed by the two young people screaming profanities at one another.

"Fine…!" The blonde's high voice screeched out as she threw her hands up in the air in frustration.

"Fine…!" Darien's voice bellowed. How odd this situation seemed to Darien. Not for years had he lost his cool, let alone with someone, he'd only just met. The two stood there and glared at each other for several minutes, neither one speaking aloud.

"Go to your stupid meeting." She spat out before harshly flopping down into her chair.

"I would if you'd tell me where the bloody hell it is!"

She stared at him and stood back up. Through gritted teeth, she directed him. "Take that large staircase to the main floor. Walk down the hall and take the elevator up-"

"Lift." He simply corrected her.

"Excuse me."

"It's called a lift, not an elevator." He said the words with disgust.

"It's called an elevator. It elevates you to where you need to go, therefore it is called an elevator."

"It lifts you to where you wish to go, it is a lift."

The receptionist sighed in an irritated manner; she rubbed her brow before continuing, "Take the elevator up three levels and go to this room." She shoved a piece of paper into his hands with the room number then sat back down and preceded to type away on the computer with renewed vigour, her fingers banging hard on the keyboard, ignoring his stare.

Darien glared at her for one last moment before turning on his heal and heading towards the staircase. "Lift…," he muttered under his breath.

"Elevator...!" she yelled to his retreating form. He contemplated responding, but realized that not only had he made enough of a scene that day, but also if he returned to argue with her again he'd be very late.

---One Hour and One Business Meeting Later---

Darien sighed as he left the conference room. His meeting had been an excruciatingly tedious one. Firstly, the CEO was not even present, save the first two minutes. Throughout the entire meeting his assistant had spoken. Normally Darien wouldn't have minded a bit. But, seeing as this assistant wanted to be so-called – thorough -- it took him a total of one hour to explain that Darien needed to find buyers for commercial airtime during an upcoming football fundraiser. It was a simple request that could have taken no more than five minutes, but the git had found a way to drag it on for an hour while the CEO was off dealing with other "important matters."

As Darien exited the conference room, he realized that after the first fifteen minutes of the conversation, he had zoned out. Not only was that very uncharacteristic of him, but the blonde receptionist had occupied his thoughts. He recalled how infuriating she was. The nerve of the girl to tell him he was speaking incorrect English in England…he was so taken aback, she was infuriating: she was loud, obnoxious, rude, beautiful, enticing, and distracting. He could not figure out how a nameless female could cause such a shift in his personality, nor was he going to try.

Darien glanced over towards the receptionist's desk as he left the large building. The girl's eyes were once again staring intently at the monitor of her personal computer. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to linger one last time on the blonde, who had managed to destroy his solid cold exterior so easily. He scoffed. There was nothing special about her long silky blonde hair and her cute face, nothing at all. With that, he pushed open the glass doors and allowed the hot air to break upon his face and ease his thoughts concerning the blonde receptionist.

He sighed as he strode towards his car. There was no point thinking about her any longer, she was out of his life. He wouldn't bother with her again. Next time he had a meeting, he'd find out all the information before hand. He breathed another deep sigh and opened the driver's door.

In one quick motion, he started the vehicle and had soon merged into traffic and sped towards his office. He needed both a drink and a talk with his friend and vice president, Andrew before dinner later that night.

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Ok, that's my first chapter of this story. I hope that you all like it!

PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love reviews!

Tell me if it's good or bad…

NEXT TIME:
The dinner meeting, a blind date, and a chance encounter…
I'm pretty sure you all know who the blonde was, if not you'll surely find out soon!

Jing

©2007 Jing2