Being the gentleman he was, Zayn simply had to save every damsel in distress who crossed his line of sight. This time, lounging at the bar in the club with a beer in hand, he spotted a young woman at close range being harassed by men who were bound to have the worst hangovers in the morning.
Setting his beer on the counter, he hopped off the barstool, making his way to the scene of the commotion. "A problem here, gentlemen?" he asked in the smooth, velvety voice he possessed.
They all immediately stepped away from the girl, intimidated by Zayn's dangerously calm demeanor. "Not at all, sir," one of the men said. Even in his drunken state, he could recognize Zayn and realize that he was not to be messed with.
"Very well," Zayn said. "I suggest that you stay away from this young lady for the rest of the night."
"Yes, sir." They all dispersed, leaving Zayn alone with the doe-eyed girl.
"Are you here alone?" he asked her softly.
"Well, I came with a friend. She's somewhere around here." She frowned, a crease forming between her naturally perfect eyebrows.
"Can I get you a drink?" Zayn asked impulsively. He mentally slapped himself when she hesitated. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
"No, it's fine." She cut him off. "It's just...I've never really had alcohol."
Zayn let out a sigh of relief. "That's quite alright," he said. "Come with me." He led her to the bar. "A beer, mate," he told the bartender.
"Bottle or glass, sir?" the bartender asked.
Zayn looked at the girl. "Bottle," she said. She was then presented with a beer bottle.
"Go ahead," Zayn told her, smirking as she made a face at the smell. It was quite cute, really. She took a deep breath and took a tentative sip and shuddered.
"What do you think?" Zayn asked.
"It isn't as bad as I thought," she said, this time taking a larger sip. Zayn and the girl drank from their respective bottles in a comfortable silence, something that normally doesn't occur between two complete strangers.
"I found you!" another girl slurred, kissing Zayn's newfound drinking companion on the cheek.
"Ugh, Jess, how much did you drink?"
"I don't know." Jess giggled before she passed out. The other girl was barely able to hold her weight.
"Here, let me," Zayn volunteered, lifting Jess over his shoulder. "Did you bring a car?" The nameless girl shook her head. "I'll drive you both home then?"
"That's quite alright. We can take a cab."
"No, I insist," Zayn argued. "I doubt you'll be able to take care of her alone." The girl finally gave in and allowed Zayn to drive her to the apartment she and Jess shared. He put the drunk girl to bed and bade the other a quick farewell.
He only realized after he was halfway home that he forgot to get her name.
An obnoxiously loud noise interrupted Xylia from her much needed sleep after she spent the whole night taking care of an extremely drunk Jessica. It took her a few seconds to realize that it was only the phone and pick it up.
"This is she. May I know who I'm speaking with?"
"This is Miranda Stevenson. I was calling to let you know that Mr. Malik was very pleased with your phone interview and has hired you as his PA. If you choose to accept the job, you will begin work here at Dragon two days from now, Monday."
"Thank you very much, Ms. Stevenson. I'll see you on Monday."
Xylia squealed with delight as Miranda hung up. "Oh, Jessica," she sang as she ran into her best friend's room.
"What?" Jess growled, burying her head in her pillow.
"I got the job!"
Monday finally came and with it, a sense of excitement for Xylia.
"Jess? Do you think it'd be odd if I pulled up in my pick up wearing this?" She gestured at her slacks and blouse.
"What? No, of course not," her friend answered, rolling her eyes at Xylia's incessant worrying. "But you should still take my BMW just in case."
"Thanks." Xylia grabbed the car keys and her satchel before running out the door.
Her fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel during the drive to Dragon Publishing. She was officially the personal assistant for the CEO, Zayn Malik, a man whom she had never met before, having only spoken to him during a phone interview.
She finally pulled up to the intimidating building at seven thirty, a half hour earlier than she should have been. She spotted a man get out of the only other car parked in the lot that early. He turned around as her car entered a lot. Xylia let out a gasp as she made eye contact with the man.
It was the one she'd seen at the bar.
Another car pulled into the lot as Zayn was getting out of his. He jogged over to see who it was; he doubted anyone else would want to show up at work this early. A girl got out of the driver's side as he approached the vehicle and gave him quite a shock. She was the same girl he'd driven home from the club the other night. "Um, hi," he breathed in greeting. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Likewise," she responded, shyly.
"Your name, love?" he asked, glad that he got his chance to ask.
"Xylia Perdue." That was the name of his new assistant. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for selecting her for the position. It couldn't have been a coincidence, could it?
"I suppose we'll be seeing a lot of each other, then," he remarked. Xylia looked up at him in confusion. "My name is Malik. Zayn Malik." She gasped and then composed herself immediately after.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Malik." She extended a hand.
"Please, call me Zayn," he said, shaking her hand. She had a firm grip; he liked that. "Come on up with me. I'll show you where you'll be working."
"Alright. Just a moment. I'll get my bag." He waited as she reached over the center console to the passenger seat to retrieve a brown leather satchel.
"We're up at the top floor and our elevator is out of order," he told her as he unlocked the front doors to the building. Xylia's lips parted as she looked up at the building. The structure could very well be considered a skyscraper. Her legs ached already from the anticipation of climbing God knows how many flights of stairs.
"I'm only joking, love," he told her as he opened the door.
"Oh." Xylia let out a shaky breath. The elevator that they would be taking was at the end of a hallway that led out of the huge lobby. It was a rather spacious elevator with padded hazelnut colored walls. "What floor, sir?" she asked her boss.
"Seventy-fifth and don't call me sir," he said as she pressed the button. "It makes me feel old." Xylia smiled. Her boss seemed nice. They got off the elevator after about five minutes and walked past the secretary's desk toward Zayn and Xylia's office rooms. "That's Mrs. Stevenson's desk. I assume you've spoken to her?"
"Yes. Over the telephone," Xylia answered.
"Wonderful. You'll get to meet her in person shortly." He then proceeded to show her her office room, which had a door connecting it to Zayn's. She caught the "new paint smell" as she entered the room and asked Zayn about it. "This was empty before. You're my first ever assistant." She couldn't help but wonder why.