“The clients love you, sugarcube” he commented as Amaya’s last client left, leaning against her door. They hadn’t talked since the encounter in her office last week but today, Marc wanted to see how she’s doing especially after all the compliments he heard the clients sang.
“So what? And stop calling me sugarcube, I have a name,” she didn’t bother to look at him as she goes through the list she made, “I need to sent them in tomorrow,” he heard her mumble and he huffs, “Did I do something to you? Why are you always cold to me?” his words made her stop writing and slowly, those blue-grey eyes locked with his, even with those glasses, he could see it clearly.
“Now why would you say that?” she leans back as she crosses her arms against her chest and Marc sits in front of her, copying her act
