Axiom Ch. 01

"Quite right, quite right," he agreed, nodding seriously. "Thanks for the tip. Otherwise, I would've been boggled."

"No sweat. Sometimes, one needs to step out of the circle to see that it is round," she added sagely.

"You're just making it up as you go along, aren't you?" She could see his eyes dancing in amusement.

"Alright, you caught me," she shrugged in good humor. "It was worth a try. I'd like to think that I'm good at fobbing my way through these things."

"You're doing an excellent job." He lifted his glass to clink with hers. "A master of disguise, a chameleon of sorts. Very impressive."

"Thanks," she hid a smile by taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes fell on a familiar face nearby and she blinked in mild astonishment. "Is that Michiko Kakutani?"

He turned to look in the direction where her eyes were indicating. "Yeah, that is," he looked back at her. "Would you like to say hi?"

"You know her personally?" she gaped in admiration.

He leaned forward with a confidential air, a twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to my world," he murmured.

Aidan couldn't help but admire her. She was very bright, very well read and keen with just the right proportion of earthiness. Despite her brains, she was neither pretentious nor snobby, and was capable of self-deprecating jokes on several occasions. As pretty as she was, she was so much more fun, so easy to talk to and the chemistry between them was palpable.

He was the picture of charm that night, politely introducing her to everyone who bumped into them as his colleague and never leaving her alone in a new social group. It was a stellar night, one that she would remember for life -- filled with art, endless glasses of prosecco and meeting people she'd only read about and heard of. They drifted from circle to circle until the crowd trickled to a handful and she felt her stomach churning, demanding to be fed.

"Well," she looked at him, not really wanting to say goodbye, "I guess I'll be off now. Thanks again, for the tickets. It's been a wonderful night."

"Don't mention it. Besides, you've been such great company tonight. Thanks for sticking around with the old berg." Her eyes widened at the mentioned of the name, but his lips curved into a small smile and she just stared at her heels, feeling sheepish.

"Alright then, I --"

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like some dinner? If you don't already have plans, of course."

She only hesitated for a heartbeat before saying yes.

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As she looked through the menu at Asakuma, she could barely believe the prices she saw. This was a place well out of her budget range, and the prices of a few dishes easily surpassed the cost of a week's meals for her. Her eyes widened as she noticed that the restaurant offered otoro - premium tuna belly - one of her favorite dishes in the whole world. Holy cow, was that how much they charged for a serving? She stared blankly at the menu, a little daunted by the sheer expensiveness of it all. As much as she loved otoro, there was no way in the world she was going to -

"Should we go somewhere else? Japanese isn't exactly everyone's favorite food." He sounded concerned - he must have noticed her discomfort and interpreted it wrongly.

"No, no, not at all," she reassured him. "I love Japanese. The place looks great, by the way."

"I hope you'll like it as much as I do. Have you decided what you want?"

"I think I'll have the-"

Before she could finish her sentence, she heard it. A familiar voice, calling out her name in a foreign language...she scanned the room for the source and found it. Her distant aunt, clad in a chic black sheath and pearls was making a beeline towards her with outstretched arms. Not wanting to be rude, she stood up and greeted her with a hug "Gwyneth! It's been so long since I last saw you!"

Aidan watched in fascination as Gwyneth Kenner began conversing with an elderly Asian woman in fluent Japanese. From the looks of it, she was a family member, an aunt perhaps. He watched carefully as the tone of her voice transformed to bend with the smooth syllables of the Japanese language. She spoke Japanese in a different voice -- one that was more gentle, feminine and subdued. Even though they talked at a rapid pace, the words flowed so elegantly, and Aidan was very impressed. Soon, they began to bid each other goodbye and hugged again, then she settled back into her chair.

Aidan leaned back, looking very amused. "I think I've been hustled."

She shook her head in mild embarrassment. "It's nothing. I'm part Japanese, and everyone in my family is fluent."

"And here I am, bringing you to a Japanese restaurant. You probably know much more than I do about the culture and cuisine than I do."

"I wouldn't say that," she added kindly.

He snapped his menu shut and placed it on the table. "Let's do this -- you call the shots for tonight and show me what being Japanese is like. Show me how the Japanese really have their dinner. Sounds good?"

She grinned, looked him in the eye and leaned forward. "Are you familiar with sake?"

The meal seemed to go on all night. The food was delicious, and the sake was getting to their heads, but they kept talking and talking and talking, the atmosphere becoming increasingly lighter as the night went on.

"Which law school did you attend?"

She cocked her head to one side, feeling coy. "Let's make this a little more challenging. How about you guess which law school I graduated from?" She bit her lip and smiled. "Do I exude Yale snobbery? Or UChicago's earthiness? Perhaps Duke's party maniac aura?" She ran her finger around the edge of her glass. "You're smart, you should be able to figure this out. Three guesses."

Interest sufficiently piqued, he leaned forward to scrutinize her better. "You're not from Yale," he said confidently, fixing her eyes on his. "I would've known if you were."

"Oh? What makes you so sure?"

"My alma mater. I make it a point to stay updated." He tapped his nose knowingly. "Do your homework next time, Ms. Kenner. How disappointing."

"Ah, well - my bad," she conceded. "So I'm not from Yale. Anything else you've gleaned so far?"

"Bits and pieces, but it's grossly insufficient. Here's what I'm proposing - I'll ask you three questions and that's it - after that's done, I'll make my three guesses. Nothing pertaining to details about your academics, I promise. Just to allow a little insight into your profile, that's all. Does that sound fair?"

She mulled it over for a moment. "Deal," she nodded with a growing smile on her face. "But only if you answer the questions as well - I'd like a little quid pro quo from all this."

There was no disguising the amusement on his face. "Fair enough, I accept your conditions. You're not an easy bargain, lady."

"Isn't that why I got a job at LSA? You should see me negotiating privity clauses on refinancing contracts." She grinned. "Well then, let the questions begin."

His eyes flashed in enthusiasm. "Alright, here we go. First up: three favorite bands?"

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I'm going to go with...Radiohead, The Rolling Stones and The Velvet Underground."

"Oh, honey, you're perfection in a bundle." The words sounded wry but there was a look of mischief on his face. "Such an eclectic mix of alternative and classic rock. I'm guessing Led Zeppelin almost made the cut?"

She clapped a hand over her heart. "Jimmy Page restores my faith in humanity," she intoned dramatically, enticing a warm smile from him. "I suppose you're into similar kinds of music, then?"

"Absolutely. My music library is quite the kaleidoscope, though. Top three would be The Beatles, Nine Inch Nails and The Smashing Pumpkins. Radiohead would've been my fourth - it's a very close call."

"Well," she raised her glass of sake. "To Thom Yorke and his sheer brilliance. My youth would have been very different if it weren't for him."

"Hear, hear," he clinked his glass with hers. "So, Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails. We were a bunch of happy kids, weren't we?"

"Mm," she shook her head ruefully. "You know what they say about geniuses and angst. Being miserable is a prerequisite to being smart."

"Can't argue with you on that one. Moving on: if you hadn't been a lawyer, what would you have been? Name two possible careers. Just two will do."

She eyed him warily, trying to suppress a smile. "You're trying to psychoanalyze me, aren't you?" She snuffled with laughter and shook her head. "Well you're not going to get to me so easily." She leaned back in her chair and thought about the question for a few seconds. "Neurobiologist or photographer, I suppose."

Aidan's eyes widened in surprise and she giggled at his expression. "Neurobiologist, photographer and lawyer?" He sounded so stumped, she wanted to burst into riotous laughter. "Highly unusual combination...very interesting indeed. How did you end up with such varied interests?"

"My family's very diverse," she emphasized on the 'very'. "I had a great childhood - ever since I could talk, mom and dad introduced me to a million and ten hobbies and interests. Grew up as a jack of all trades and master of none, so you can imagine how I agonized on choosing my major in college. God, that was an absolute headache."

"Calligraphy lectures immediately after Biology lab practicals?"

"Almost, but more like Classical Studies tutorials after Chem lab sessions. And then French in the evenings."

"Overachieving curve-wrecker," he retorted.

"That's rich, coming from you," she shot back with a smile. "Your turn."

"Spy," he deadpanned, looking totally serious.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a look. "Oh come on, be serious."

He gave a mock-stern look. "Espionage is no laughing matter, Gwyneth."

"Yes, double O seven, no one's making fun of the spy trade. What I am making fun of is the notion of you being a spy."

"Why? Am I not an ideal candidate for some cold-blooded killing? Can I not coax and charm tightly-guarded secrets out of a Venezuelan vixen?"

She bit back a smile and raised her eyebrows at him. "Says the man who is paying for an answer with an answer. You'd reveal military launch codes before your suspect tells you where Osama is hiding."

"That's what you think," he leaned forward with a glint in his eye. "My final answer is spy, and I'm afraid that you'll just have to work with that." He winked at her. "So, enough with that. Here's my final question: how many languages do you speak? Dialects included."

She frowned in slight confusion. "How many languages? That's a weird question."

He smiled smugly back at her. "Just answer it. We're almost at the denouement now."

He could see her eyes dart to the upper right corner as she tried to make a mental tally of how many languages she spoke. As he expected, she was a polyglot - blessed with one of those minds that picked up languages like sailors picked up diseases. "Seven," she admitted, somehow sounding both pleased and embarrassed at the same time.

"Wow," he was genuinely awed at her answer. Fuck, she was brilliant - and it made her all the more attractive to him. "That is utterly phenomenal. Seriously, Gwyneth - I do hope that you realize how precious a gift that is. I admire that very deeply."

"Thanks," she blushed. "Well don't go throwing any parades now. Besides, I'm not that fluent in all of them. My Spanish is a little worse for the wear." She shrugged. "So, time for you to guess. Oh, I'm looking forward to this." She rubbed her hands in glee.

His face was completely serious save for the tiny curve of his lips. He just stared at her in silence for a few moments, as if he was studying her face for the correct answer. The heat of his gaze made her heart race - there was something about the intensity of his look that thrilled and drew her in, sent her heart hammering in her chest and her lips go dry.

"Columbia." The verdict tumbled out of his lips in a deadpan voice.

Her jaw fell open. "How did you - how? Is it really that obvious?"

"I just know these things," he answered vaguely, a smug smile on his face.

She shook her head in disbelief. "No. No, no. There has to be - oh, I know. You have my employment records, don't you? You must have pulled it from HR. And here I thought..." she rolled her eyes.

The grin on his face told her everything she needed to know. He didn't say a thing in response and only shrugged nonchalantly.

"You sneak. Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself now - it was a lot more impressive when I thought you could tell which law school I was from just from those three questions."

"Oh, believe me, I can."

"I highly doubt that." She smirked in return.

The smug smile on her face disappeared when she saw that his gaze was fixed on her and for a moment, she felt like she was totally naked in front of him. He was looking at her with an intensity that made her wonder if he could look past every single layer and observe her true nature in a blink. "Believe what you want, Gwyneth, but you know I would have made an excellent spy," his voice was low and silky with intent. For a moment they just looked at each other in silence, as beheld my some magical, unseen force that had them spellbound.

"So," Aidan broke the reverie, the easy warmth returning to his voice as they snapped back to their senses, "what is the usual Japanese desert?" He took a sip of sake.

"Well the norm would be daifuku, maybe a jelly, but here's the thing," she twirled a loop of hair around her finger "dessert isn't really a Japanese habit."

He nodded in understanding, never taking his eyes off hers. The lively chatter was quieting down now, and a waiter began to clear their table.

"Right," he said, breaking the silence. "Perhaps we should be leaving now."

He got up on his feet and offered her his hand, and pulled her up from the chair. As they walked out, hands still locked together, she could feel her heart throbbing, her heartbeat escalating at the contact, his skin deliciously warm and dry on hers. Outside, he fished out his phone and called for a car, and then turned to face her.

"So...thanks for dinner," her voice sounded so small. "I...I had a great time."

"So did I." He reached for her other hand. "I had a really good time."

She couldn't believe this. Here she was, by a street, holding hands with Aidan Scodelario like a teenage girl on her first date. Her better judgment was compelling her to leave immediately before she risked doing anything stupid with her employer, but she couldn't peel her hands away from his. Couldn't refuse his serious gaze as he looked at her intently. As he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, she didn't move away, instead she leaned into his hand, craving his touch. And that's when he leaned in and kissed her, placing his lips firmly over hers, his other arm snaking around her waist to pull her close.

Alarms were beginning to sound in her head, warning her about the dangers of getting into things with Aidan, especially considering how influential he was at work. But as the kiss deepened, she found herself powerless to fight it, kissing him back with abandon, her conscious worries gradually fading into nothing more than a mere whisper. His mouth was warm and gentle on hers, and as his lips parted hers she felt her breath catch in her throat. She curled an arm around his neck, pulling him in for a final press on the lips before she let go and pulled away. His pale eyes were fixed on hers, traces of lust evident in his irises. The voice of reason, however, found the upper hand.

"I...I'm sorry. I can't do this," she stammered, her voice weak. "We work together, and you're my superior, and I just...I-"

He exhaled sharply. "I understand," he agreed in civil tones. "You're probably right."

The car pulled up a few feet away from them and Aidan turned to move towards it. Gwyneth felt the unease fizz inside her, expanding into a mounting load that she could no longer suppress. Her head felt strangely floaty, an odd mix of hazy bliss and bold courage thanks to the copious amount of alcohol she'd downed.

"Or maybe..." she spluttered, surprised at the sound of her own voice saying those words. Aidan looked back at her quizzically. Where was this courage coming from? Was she really going to do this?

"...Or maybe, if we could...I don't know, keep it physical. Purely physical. No strings attached. Just two people doing that thing that adults do." She was appalled at what she was saying, completely taken aback at the thought that she herself was suggesting this to her boss. Aidan stood there silently, just staring at her strangely.

There was a tightness in her chest that made it hard for her to breathe, the tension of the moment suffocating and oppressive. She felt completely wrong-footed, angry with herself for being this tipsy in front of Aidan. This was it. She'd completely jeopardized her career and her professional image over a few drinks and a nice dinner with a man. She closed her eyes, wanting to pretend that it was all a dream.

But as she opened them again, she saw him walking towards her, his lips pressed tightly into a wry smile, and suddenly she was in his arms, wrapped tightly in an embrace while his lips found hers, capturing her in another of his unworldly kisses. This time, however, he was more confident, lacking the vacillation of the previous kiss, and as his tongue found its way to hers, her hands were in his hair, tugging at it with small, urgent fists. For what seemed like an eternity, they were locked together with abandon. Finally he pulled away, his eyes darkening with pleasure. "My place?" he asked gruffly. She nodded wordlessly as he seized her hand and helped her into the car.