To Color Your Life

There is such a rule: do not frighten a stranger, you never know how he will react.

Emily has seen various videos on the Internet of some prankster wearing a zombie mask attacking passers-by on the street. Most, of course, were frightened and were just running away. But there were also those who, instead of a frightened cry, beat the unreasonable joker in the nose. That's right. With a fist, you know. Backhand.

Emily didn't know what type of person she was before. As it turned out, she belonged to the second group of people.

"And what is this cute little mouse doing here?" a threatening whisper suddenly sounded in her ear.

It is not known what the man expected when he sneaked up on the girl who was holding a phone in one hand and a container with pastries in the other. Correction: with A LOT OF pastries.

But what happened in the end, neither he nor she expected.

Emily jerked, and instead of a frightened cry from being caught eavesdropping, she sent all the cakes right into Denver's face.

Cream, whipped cream, chocolate spread - all this sweet splendor was imprinted on the shocked Christian and flopped down with a savory sound.

He looked like a deer in the headlights, with his bulging eyes, Emily froze a step away from him with her mouth open.

Holy guacamole... Someone just kill me!

The man's snow-white shirt was smeared with vanilla cream, dark blue trousers were stained with powdered sugar, and his face... it was better not to look at the face.

She wondered if he would wait until she writes the will, or maybe he would finish her right on the spot?

"Miss Hayes..."

It was the scariest "Miss Hayes" she had ever heard in her life.

"Sorry! I did not do it on purpose! I'll wipe everything off now!"

What are you going to wipe him with, stupid you?!

Emily, in a panic, fumbled in her pockets for a napkin. Her grandmother taught her to carry one with her just in case. But the girl did not expect that after twenty-seven years of life, this case would turn out to be like this!

"Now, wait a second," she pulled a crumpled cotton napkin out of her back pocket, good for cleaning her glasses, and reached for the man's face.

All her attention was focused on the stone face of Denver, so she did not notice as she stepped with her sneaker on the cream smeared on the floor and the remains of the cake.

Have you ever laughed like a kid when watching a cartoon character stepping on a banana peel?

Emily was fully aware of the brutality of this situation.

Her foot slid across the cream as if on ice. The girl waved her hands and grabbed what was closest. That's right, she grabbed Denver.

The man's reaction was faster this time. Either the accumulated experience of communicating with this lady was the reason, or he wanted to punish her himself, but Christian's strong grip saved Emily from another meeting with the floor surface.

"Are you kidding me?!" Denver exclaimed indignantly and pressed the girl to him. He was holding onto the wall with one hand, and holding Emily with the other. "Are you a child who cannot walk? Do you need to be carried in someone's arms so that you do not get injured inadvertently?"

Emily, like any girl, did not mind being carried in someone's arms. But certainly not in that context.

"Sorry," was all she could say at that moment.

Hmm, Hayes, every meeting with Denver is getting more and more shameful.

She hesitantly raised her eyes and met a hazel gaze, which was the same deep shade as the chocolate paste on the man's face.

"Let me go," Emily put her hands on the man's wide chest. With such closeness, he seemed to her quite huge. And his strange look, which she could not understand in any way, caused goosebumps.

Maybe he decided to break a couple of her ribs for such an insult? Who knows what's in the head of this stockholder with biceps like a titled boxer?

"Are you sure you won't fall again?" asked Christian, not taking his eyes off the girl's face.

Emily nodded. The man let her go. But as soon as she took a step, the traitorous sneaker slid across the floor again.

Denver exhaled heavily, muttered something under his breath (very similar to a curse), grabbed Emily by the waist, lifted her and put her on the floor on the other side of the "dangerous" spot.

"Stop and don't move! Don't even dare to breathe," he ordered in such a tone that she didn't even want to argue with the man.

Well, Emily Hayes, you are so dead.

She looked sadly at the cakes scattered on the floor. Most of them were completely ruined, of course, but a few were quite decent and did not even fall out of the container.

The phone in her pocket vibrated. She cast a sidelong glance at Denver. The man took off his stained shirt and began to wipe his face with it.

"Hello," Emily answered the call, "Are you already in the department? Ah... I'm on the top floor, picking up the cakes that Teresa passed on through your father," she replied to Justin, who was already waiting for her downstairs.

"Yes, I'll be there soon. Now I will call the elevator and be right there." Emily hung up.

"Do you address Roger Evans's wife by her first name? Wow, what a close relationship," Denver chuckled. He was already practically clean, except for the traces of cream in his hair and a few spots on his trousers.

What? What kind of intonation is that? And in general, it is indecent to eavesdrop on other people's conversations… Oh.

Emily remembered that she had overheard something she clearly shouldn't have.

"Sorry to ruin your clothes, Mr. Denver." She squatted down and lifted a container of leftover cakes that could still be eaten.

So, you need to distract him to something else and leave before he comes to his senses.

"There should be a toilet room somewhere, you can put yourself in order. You can send the dry cleaning bill to department thirty in my name. I'll pay for everything."

She turned to dash to the elevator, but Denver's reactions became suspiciously quick.

"Stay where you are!" the man grabbed her by the collar of her shirt like a naughty kitten. "Where are you in such a hurry, Miss? Do you know that fishing for corporate secrets is a criminal offense?"

Emily widened her eyes. Come on Hayes, portray holy innocence! You have a superstar granny. You can!

"What are you talking about, Mr. Denver? I'm an ordinary trainee, what secrets are we talking about?" she looked down at the Rolex on his wrist. "Oh, gods! My break is over! Sorry, sorry, I'm in a hurry!"

The girl twisted out of his grasp and walked briskly to the elevator. She pressed the call button.

"Come on, crawl faster, you damn turtle," Emily nervously bit her lip as she waited for the elevator.

Meanwhile, Denver leisurely picked up his crutch from the floor, wiped it off from the cream that had fallen in with the same shirt as his face earlier. He threw his shirt on the floor and walked towards Emily.

The elevator doors clanked solemnly. Emily jumped inside and pressed the button to close them.

Wow, she was in time, she thought with relief when they practically closed. Keyword: practically.

But someone's wooden crutch turned out to be too nimble! Oh shit!

"Ay-ay, how bad, Miss Hayes. You didn't even wait for the injured man. Why are you so?" Denver went inside the elevator.

What did Catherine say last time? Did she see her ex-husband smiling for the first time?

Emily is lucky. Well, maybe not exactly.

Now she saw Christian Denver smile for the second time. And this smile did not bode well.

Emily swallowed.

The elevator doors slammed shut and it headed downstairs.

Again.