-JT

"Get me my branch manager from South Korea. Also, get me my real estate agent. I need to know if he's found the houses yet."

"Yes Ms. Arias."

Irene, or Irena, could be seen walking down a white, pristine hallway. Slightly behind her was her assistant, Maxwell Stew Easton.

"What is my itinerary for today?" Irene asked as she walked into large office, her heels clacking against the gray, wooden, flooring. Said office was at the top of 20-story building, with a large window for a wall that overlooked New York City.

"Well," Maxwell started as he walked up to the large white desk, "You have a phone conference with Mr. Park at eight, so that's in half an hour. At one, you have a lunch with the Board of Directors to discuss some plans for the company. And the rest of the day is just more paperwork that I will most likely end up help you finish if I don't end up doing them all." Maxwell snapped his notebook shut and looked at Irene expectantly.

When Irene looked up at Maxwell as she was sitting down in her seat, she was confused. "What?" she asked.

Maxwell let out an exasperated breath and sat down in one of the seats in front of the desk and asked, "When was the last time you saw the love of your life?"

"Don't start Max. I'm really not in the mood for your counseling."

"Just please answer the question, Irene," Max pleaded.

"Two days ago."

"I meant physically."

Irene turned her seat to stare outside and softly whispered, "Four years ago."

"Then go see him Irene!" Max stood up and stood next to where Irene was seated. He looked at the way Irene was slumped in her chair, and the way her eyes was looking out, as if in her own world. "You're suffering without him!"

"I can't," Irene continued softly.

"Yes you can," Max pressed.

"Max, stop... please."

"There is noth-"

"I said stop Maxwell!" Irene exclaimed, standing up from her seat as Max stepped back from surprise. Her breath shuddered as she slowly walked towards the window and leaned against it with her hands and her head hanging down. "I'm sorry Max. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I know you mean only the best."

She slowly turned around and leaned against the window once more with her head back and eyes closed, "We were almost caught you know."

"What?" Max asked softly.

Irene chuckled, almost sarcastically, and said, "Yeah. There's already been rumours circulating and some news reporter almost caught us. Since then, there's been more paparazzi people on us than usual, waiting for even a little breadcrumb. Taekwoon and I decided to stay away from each other for a while, just until the cameras tone down. That little while, turned into the past four years."

"Irene, you're crying."

Irene looked at Max in surprise before softly tapping her cheeks and feeling her tears. "It looks like I am."

Max took his handkerchief from his suit pocket and dried up Irene's tears. "We'll figure this out Irene, I promise." Max finished drying up Irene's tears and put away his handkerchief. "But first, you have a video conference that starts in less than ten minutes and you need to be ready for it. Luckily you don't normally wear makeup, so you should be fine."

Irene chuckled and sat in her seat once more. "What would I do without you Max?"

"What you always did before meeting me," he replied as he was walking out.

"Survive."
*********
Irene closed the door behind her. It was a hard day today. Her shoulders sagged and the floor
seemed to make love to her feet. Leaning against the door of her New York penthouse, she took off her heels and carried it in the hand that wasn't carrying her briefcase.

Walking into the main living room, she saw the body of a three-year-old coloring on the table, and cooed, "Hi Lara."

Putting her bag and heels down, she picked up the toddler that ran towards her. Throwing Lara up with a grunt and placing the young girl on her lap, Irene said, "You seem to be getting bigger and bigger everyday princesa*." Lara giggled. "Where's your madre, princesa**?" Lara pointed towards a small office that was connected to the living room

Walking into the office, she saw Ana and the computer screen on with a new article. "What's it about this time?" Irene asked. She walked behind the chair.

"You," Ana replied, "And your boyfriend."

Irene froze. Wetting her chapped lips, Irene mumbled, "I see that rumor is still going around huh." Shaking her head, she said, "Damn vultures. What do they have this time?"

"They're saying that it's suspicious that once the rumors have started, you stopped going to South Korea all of a sudden when you used to go all the time. I'm sorry," Ana apologized, turning her seat around, "But my managers wanted me to write something about you. I would've said no, but I can't risk losing my job. And they would've never let me say no in the first place."

"Damn bastards," Irene said, happy that she closed the door to the office so that Lara wouldn't have to hear her say that. "What happened to them saying that you had free reign to write about whatever you want? What happened to that Ana?"

"Times have changed, you know that."

"Yeah. But I also know that they haven't."

Silence. Ana stayed in her chair and Irene was sitting on the desk, both staring out the night sky.

"If I could leave then I would. Bu-"

"Then do it."

"What?" Ana snapped her head toward Irene.

"You heard me. Leave them. Come work for me. I have a new position available. Head editor of the whole company. The only person you would have to report to is me. My old person retired."

Getting down from the desk, she said, "I wouldn't demand of you anything. Suggestions, yes. But never demand. And you've seen me with my people. You know it's true."

"I don't know Irene. It would be a huge change."

"And the times have changed, just like you said. These people don't respect the work you do. You deserve something better. How about this, we eat dinner and we relax. And you can tell me sometime this week. I can't have that position open all the time."

"Ok," Ana nodded softly. Then much stronger, she said, "Ok."

*Princess
**mother, princess?

Notes

*Princess
**mother, princess?