Author's Note: I have written a lot of of fanfiction in my day, but this is my first time ever putting one of my own stories out into the world. I hope you enjoy it and I hope this is the first of many!

isabel

The rain that morning came as soon as I walked out of the door and ruined my effortless looking beach waves that realistically took about half an hour to do. It also splattered big splotches across my sensible white button down, revealing a lacy black bra underneath.

Needless to say, I was less than thrilled at how the first morning of my new internship was going.

I was trying to ignore it to the best of my ability as maintaining a positive mindset had never been my strong suit, but I didn't want to walk into the foyer of Bradshaw co. with a negative attitude. I supposed I should save that for an actual paying job.

The only person saving me from an emotional breakdown was my cousin and best friend, Vanessa Curtis. She was the most positive person I knew, which was only slightly grating at times. Given the unfortunate circumstances we grew up in, it was mostly just inspiring to me.

"Isabel, it's not like they expected you to magically stay dry," she reasoned in my ear. "They know it's raining so don't you dare feel self-conscious about not looking perfect."

"I always look perfect, that's my niche," I countered.

That was true. It was a very prominent staple of my personality. Perfectly pressed skirt or pants, always appropriately neutral or pastel in color. I despised bright colors or flashy designs. I liked practical fashion, and my professional outfit was especially important to me. I had chosen a pastel pink blazer and pant duo for the day, so I seemed responsible yet not boring at the same time. My closed-toed nude pumps had the same idea, only about two inches opposed to what I would usually wear, since I expected to be retrieving a lot of coffee in my time there.

"I know this ruined the seamless plan you had envisioned in your head," Vanessa said, "But that was never going to happen anyway Iz, I hate to break it to you."

I sighed in resignation. She was probably right. I was disappointed at almost every turn in life because I would get too caught up with a version in my head. I didn't even have my first kiss until I was eighteen because I expected it to be someone who was overwhelmingly crazy about me. And he had been, for a while at least.

"Thanks for talking me down as usual, I love you," The dread was slowly lessening, even though I still vaguely felt like I was inching towards my execution.

"Anytime, I love you too." We hung up at the same time and I finally took in the sights of the main foyer.

I had been chosen as the intern for the CEO of Bradshaw co., Jeremy Bradshaw. The company sold sport's equipment across the world, and had been a worthy competitor of Nike and Underarmour for quite some time. Jeremy had played college football, but had ultimately decided that he cared more about manufacturing for sports than playing one.

His son, Emmett Bradshaw, had been the obvious choice for the job. He was my age, a business major like me, and had the advantage of being the CEO's son. But sadly he had fallen off the wagon, spending most of his final semester drunk -- yet still managing to graduate, and had been in rehab since the beginning of last summer. I had been the next choice.

It did kind of sting to be the default hire because the first would rather be drowning in booze, but I was overly aware of the fact that I had to forgo pride for the sake of opportunity as a woman. Especially in business, I had to be aware that most of my colleagues doubted I could do it. Instead of complaining, I was just overly determined to prove my worth and not give anyone, especially Jeremy, a reason to think I was unqualified for the position.

I checked my watch, seeing that I had ten minutes until I actually had to be here, which was soon enough that I felt like I should check in now to make a good impression. A pretty redhead was seated at the front desk, typing away on a computer. "Excuse me," I peered down at her name-tag, "Hi Helene, I'm Isabel Monroe. I'm Mr. Bradshaw's new intern."

She smiled at me warmly, and reached out to shake my hand. "It's so nice to meet you, I can lead you up there now, I'm sure he will appreciate the fact that you're early."

I certainly hoped he did because my sorority sisters did not. One had passed out on the breakfast table the night before, sheets of homework fanned out under her face, and my presence had woken her up and invoked a breakdown. I had to give up my freshly brewed coffee to her just so she would stop crying.

I followed Helene to the elevator, with a new coffee cup purchased from Starbucks, taking in the classy white tiled floors, and the all glass windows. Helene had a resting happy face, although part of me wondered if the fact that she was wearing flats instead of heels was at all contributing to her bright mood. I was well practiced in heels but still felt the faint pinch on my toes that I knew would grow more apparent the longer I walked around.

She led me all the way to a large office at the end of the hallway, where I heard two very distinct male voices talking loudly through the door. I turned to find Helene wincing. "Is he in a meeting, should I wait outside?" I asked, a sinking feeling growing in my stomach.

"Not a meeting," Helene corrected with a tight smile. "It seems as though Emmett Bradshaw has just discovered that you will be the intern for his father instead of him."

I felt the color drain from my face. "He didn't know?" The sense of dread grew as she thought about what the father and son could be negotiating. He might just be convincing enough that he forgot about me altogether, and I'd be back to square one hunting for a way in the business.

Helene looked apologetically at me, but it did little to suppress my nerves. I checked my watch and discovered that I had officially crossed over into "on-time" territory and that I'd rather be turned away because of his son than because I was tardy. After a pep talk with myself, I knocked on the door.

I turned to thank Helene, but she had already retreated back to her desk. The voices abruptly halted and I composed my face into a look of casual professionalism.

A haggard-looking Mr.Bradshaw opened the door and I wondered if he and Emmett had raced to open it. I peeked a look at the latter over his father's shoulder, his face also giving very little of his emotions away. He was extremely handsome I was dismayed to admit, with neatly styled sandy brown hair and a chiseled face. I wondered if he ever smiled or if his face was permanently stuck in an emotionless state.

"Good morning Isabel," Jeremy offered a smile that I could see right through. "Come in and ignore my scowling son, I'll get you started on what you can do today."

I listened to both orders, doing my best not to glance at the overwhelming presence of the angry young man in the corner of the office. Jeremy Bradshaw's office was stunning; he clearly had not skimped on an interior designer. The spacious room was filled with chic white furniture, a glass desk with a computer and papers scattered across it, and a window that expanded over an entire wall with a magnificent view of the beach that was only a short walk away. Even the most stuffy businessmen who worked in San Francisco, California likely couldn't resist showing off scenery such as that.

I mostly didn't care much for having the best view, I figured the best workers spent 90% of their day looking at a computer anyway.

I tried to ignore Emmett's eyes trying to burn a hole through my scalp as I watched Jeremy look for something I could do. I didn't mind the lack of preparation, I knew this job was mostly about networking anyway.

"I would love to get you introduced to everyone in the first day," Jeremy said smiling at me, clearly hoping to set me more at ease. "I have no doubt that you'll fit right in."

Emmett scoffed. I turned to him sharply, raising my eyebrow as an invitation to say whatever was on his mind.

"Father, you know as well as I do that women for Miss Monroe to socialize with make up about 2% of the building, including the assistants."

His voice was a lovely deep sound that felt like honey to my eardrums, contrasting his words that felt like knives. It's no secret that there was a shortage of women in the field, but if he thought that I'd be put off by him rubbing it in my face, he had another thing coming.

emmett

I had hoped that when my dad had informed me of the fact that he hired a sorority girl, it would have been a girl so unqualified that he'd immediately fire her and I could take my job back, a clear lesson that my dad had wanted me to learn about anyone being replaceable. But I was sorely mistaken when I had looked at Isabel Monroe's resume. She was smart, with a GPA just under a 4.0, and glowing recommendations from her professors.

I thought my dad had just wanted to bruise my ego, but he had chosen someone who deserved this job just as much as me. It infuriated me.

I had spent the better part of my life knowing I wanted to be just like him when I grew up so the fact that he was serious about this hire felt like a slap in the face.

When she knocked on the door with carefully practiced knocks so she wouldn't appear too eager or unenthused, I tried to beat my dad to the door.

Unfortunately, he was already closer and greeted the girl with a much friendlier face than I would have.

She appeared unbothered by my less than subtle glare, and when she stepped into the room I used the opportunity to study her.

Isabel Monroe was attractive, there was no denying it. Even rain-soaked her clothes oozed elegance and I wondered if she would be angry if she had so much as a flipped collar out of place in her outfit.

She had a cute, round face and big, expressive brown eyes framed by dark chocolate brown hair that reached just above her shoulders. It was a friendly, girl-next-door kind of appearance that didn't really match the rest of her.

Her stance was so professional I wondered why she even joined a sorority because it didn't look like she got out much.

I stopped focusing on her looks just in time to catch my dad saying something ludicrous about Isabel fitting right in.

"Father, you know as well as I do that women for Miss Monroe to socialize with make up about 2% of the building, including the assistants," It felt like a mean thing to say but I also didn't want to get the girl's hopes up. The gender ratio was ridiculously imbalanced in business, especially at a sportswear company whose targeted audience was mostly male.

Most men figured the imbalance was because women were too emotionally fragile to do the dirtier parts of the business, but I had met many strong willed women that had left because the men in the building did such a spectacular job of making them feel unwelcome.

My father had never shared their sentiment and was always pissed when qualified women were driven to another company. The company also sold sportswear equipment for women after all, it wasn't like we couldn't use a female eye.

As I would have predicted, Isabel looked annoyed at my words. "I can assure you Emmett, gossiping is not all I had been expecting to accomplish here, I'm sure I can contribute some form of conversation to the other 98% of the staff," Her tone was extremely sarcastic. "Thanks for your concern though."

Her smile was biting, contorting her pretty, soft features into harsh angles. I hadn't wanted to make her feel like I thought she was only capable of gossiping, but I was too proud to apologize so instead I just inclined my head in acknowledgement of her words.

Despite my regret over my choice of words, I still desperately wanted her gone, so I figured I had better get started on the sabotage sooner rather than later.

"Miss Monroe, it would be an honor to show you around the company myself considering my father is hard at work," We both looked towards the man in question, whom was busy trying to seem as though he was in control of the situation.

"Of course, I trust you will make her feel welcome."

Isabel looked at my father as though he just agreed to feed her to the wolves and I stifled a self-satisfied smirk. I held out my arm for her to take, and not wanting to come across as rude, she linked her own through it.

"I'm excited to show you all we have to offer."