The CEO's Little Stripteuse

"My mother got flowers today--the loveliest she's ever got. Too bad she wont be able to see them this time. She'd smile at them and rest them on the lounge table as a reminder that she was loved."

To everyone else, the speech was lovely, but to Abigail, she knew there was nothing but fervent mockery of the whole situation. She eyed the closed box with nothing but contempt. How could one woman be so foolish? So implicitly blind?

"I placed them beside her casket, because that's where she would want them. Open and bold for everyone to see, so that she could have a reason to love him." She said 'him' with so much venom, but the congregation only nodded in blind sympathy, as they knew not what was really in Abigail's heart.

Ever since her mother met Mark four years ago, no one but her had ever known what truly happened within the walls off the Jenison's house. To the outside world, Mark was the perfect husband, and her mother's never ending glee of marriage was never seen by the public as something she was suffering from.

She had only been six months into the marriage when Mark first laid his hands on her, and Abigail had called the police in pure fear for her mother's life.

To Abigail's surprise, the woman dismissed the accusations to the police, and scolded her about interfering in what wasn't 'her business'.

Abigail knew from then that this wouldn't be the marriage she had hoped for her mother after her father passed. Her loving dad would've been so disappointed in what her mother's love life had become.

The worst part was, that wasn't the only time.

But Mark with his charming smile, his endless money and his soothing, conniving tongue always found his way back on her mother's good side. When it became too much, he started bringing her flowers, jewels and diamonds every time they had a 'disagreement'. She would love the flowers the most, as she was always a florist by heart.

Mark never hesitated to make Abigail's mom 'happy' with the scented symbols of pain and wholly, being shadowed as an apology for whatever crime he had done to her the night before. They were all forgiven, in her mother's eyes at least, and after four years of begging, pleading and bawling to her mother to leave him, she never listened until she ultimately left forever.

Abi had found the flowers on the porch this morning before the funeral, at the house now void of all screams, shattering glass and Mark's presence since he vanished.

'I really did love your mother Abigail. I wish you could see that.'

She had flung the note in the fireplace, and was about to throw the flowers after them too. But then, she knew her mother would've kept them, until they withered away and died, just like her love for her, and ultimately her life.

"Nice aren't they?" Her humorless chuckle echoed in the small mic as all eyes flickered to the rested roses. "She would've loved them indeed. They were her hope after all, for a happy life one day." Expect, that day never came, she wanted to add, but decided against it when she realized that a hundred people's view on her mother would've been tarnished.

Let the dead be the dead. There was nothing she could do about it anymore.

Countless times, despite her mother's requests, she had reported the homely affair to the police. Nobody helped. Nobody looked. Nobody cared.

Now it was all too late, and for the mere peace of her own conscience, she had reported it one last time to the police, telling them that Mark had killed her mother. But Mark's lawyer pointed out that her mother had a 'failing heart', which was the cause of her death.

The saddest part was, she wasn't even lying.

"My mother got flowers today. And I hope she continues to smile at them as if they were her redemption. Surely, there isn't any force in this world greater than love," Abigail ended softly with her heart in a contradicting mess.

She didn't believe it one bit. She only said it for the sake of everyone, and her aunt who had asked her to share a few words of her 'mother's life'. Or lack of rather. She only did it out of respect for the mother she once knew, but lost four years ago.

There isn't any love in this world. It's greed, lust, submission and pleasure. Maybe in some perfect world, people are actually out there who knew about it, or better yet, felt it. But as for her, there was no love in her life after her father, and none to come ever again.

She was sure of it.

Abi placed the mic back in its holder as she made her leave from the pulpit. She didn't give the casket that much of a glance as she walked passed it, her heels clicking against the tiled church floor as she headed for her seat in the very back.

She kept her head straight, appreciating the gloom that the dark clouds provided, along with its showering downpour to wash away her past. Eyes lingered on her as she stepped passed each row, maybe in a scrutinizing, sympathetic or confused way. She wouldn't know though. She kept her head straight all the way to her empty bench, where she returned with her cold, stoic expression.

She pulled on her black dress as she listened to another lie of friends talking about what an 'open minded', and 'loving' person her mother used to be. Yet, it didn't matter anymore. There was no need for her bitterness on such a day.

So, for the rest of the day, Abigail accepted condolences, smiled where she was required, bid farewells and ultimately said goodbye to her mother and her past.

She strolled down the street with a single suitcase rolling behind her, and an image of a new life far away from where her darkest days were spent, and where her worst memories sat.

She vowed never to step foot into that's man's house again, and she burnt the money Mark had sent her out of pity. Guilt maybe?

She didn't care. She didn't want anything to do with him or his belongings, and she especially didn't want anything of her mother's to remind her of the dread she had to witness.

Hence, with all the clothes and belongings she had bought herself from her own money, along with her few belongings and her recently achieved degree in Marketing, she flagged a bus and set off to a new life she hoped she could find. Somewhere in the city, maybe?

She had no clue what she'd find or what she'd become, but she knew for certain that she was going to write her own story.

Surely, Mark was an evil, monstrous sorry excuse of a human being, but her mother was and always will be a coward who chose her abusive husband over her only life and daughter.

Let them bury her. Let her stay there in a box condemned to the earth forever. She placed her own self there.

At least she'll surely leave with her prized flowers.

"From the top again, Jerry. Tell me the issue." Theodore pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt the hint of a familiar friend coming to visit. His headache.

Jerry, Theodore's COO and oldest friend, held the document firmly in his hand that Theodore refused to take.

"I just finished processing the reports from the Italian winery. Apparently, the reason why the production has been so slow, is because 2000 acres of the vineyard is infected with Grapevine Trunk Disease," Jerry explained as he glanced over the report.

It had been appalling news to him too when he first read over the file only an hour ago. But it surely explained the production, or lack of, rather, with the Italian vineyard.

This upset Theodore even more. In the wine business, that was probably one of the worst things that could've happened. "For how long?"

Jerry gulped as he eyed the file again, even though he knew. "Uh-six months, sir." The only time Jerry addressed him this formally, was when he knew Theodore was upset.

Indeed, Theodore threw his hands down on the desk, causing Jerry to flinch. "Six f**king months? And I wasn't informed?"

Surely, the manager for the branch in Italy was in for an earful from Theodore. One of the biggest rules that Theodore set in place, was to report anything that may threaten his business, immediately when it occurred.

Living in a day and age with cell phones, they had no reason to wait until their reports were due to send this type of information across. The success of Vintage Wines thus far was the reliance on incredible skills of communication.

With vineyards and wineries all over the world, with a single CEO monitoring it all, Theodore trusted his managers of each branch with this very success of his business. They had grown a lot over the 8 years since he took over the family business. Even at a young age, Theodore knew that once it was his time to take over his father's business, he wouldn't limit it to one single location in California any longer.

He had grand plans of expanding, making Vintage Wines a worldwide operation. Not to be mistaken, the Californian vineyard and winery was the largest and most successful, as that was where the business was born.

He would always appreciate and cherish it. However, his investment in the expansion wasn't in vain. He worked endlessly to get them where they are now, purchasing and expanding vineyards and wineries in Italy, Spain, Australia and Brazil too.

He had flung his entire trust fund into it, with no one but his father's momentarily pat on the back, and existing employees who thought he was too young at twenty-two to take over a successful business like this. But he didn't mind the criticism.

Since a child, Theodore had always been a successful man at heart. He was always looking to do better, and when he reached each goal, he made a new one.

That was the key to his success. Slowly, he either re-staffed or kept the ones who started to appreciate his leadership, and he took his business to high places.

After the third vineyard was finalized in Spain, he moved to New York, bought his head office and worked from there ever since. When his final location was finalized in Brazil, his enterprise was already the most known in the city.

Theodore had gotten nominated as the youngest successful man three years in a row, which he always won. Still, he wasn't the one to boast and get comfortable in his wealth. Instead, he was always looking to expand and improve.

So, such a report was troubling to him. The Italian vineyard was only 4000 acres. If 2000 was infected, that was far too much. He knew that if they had done their job and reported it immediately, he would've gotten it under control.

But Sam, his general manager of the Italian branch, had always been an egoistic bastard. He would've wanted to fix it on his own, Theodore knew for sure. Those Italians and their pride.

Now, that very pride and ego were threatening his work. The only reason why Theodore kept Sam, was because he knew how to do his job.

However, he was having second thoughts about that assumption.

With a deep sigh and a hell of a long day on his shoulders, Theodore closed his laptop and rose from his chair. It was far too late for this.

"Tell you what, tomorrow I'll have my assistant arrange a flight to Italy. But now, I think it's time to go home, Jerry."

Jerry agreed. The usually busy streets of New York were almost empty, and the clock that filled the silence of Theodore's office whenever he was alone ticked towards midnight.

Late nights like these were rare, but they weren't strange to Theodore nor Jerry. It was nights like these where Theodore had signed his final contract for a new vineyard. He didn't mind them at all.

"I'll see you in the morning then." Jerry bid him farewell, as Theodore gathered his belongings.

With a simple nod, he ensured everything was where they were meant to be before he headed down the empty and dimly lit hallway. He checked his phone for messages from the day as he stood in the elevator, waiting to move from the fifteenth to the final floor.

He saw a text from his sister, Jessica, telling him that her wedding date was set. Theodore couldn't help but smile at the thought. He loved his baby sister dearly, and he was happy she finally found love.

Theodore grew up in witness of love between his parents dearly, so he knew it was real. He, however, has never found it. He thought he had five years ago with his secretary. However, it turned out that she was actually in it for a raise, and she had been secretly dating his computer engineer all along.

Theodore swore to himself that he wasn't hurt, just foolish. With successful men like himself, true love would've had to be in his life before he became the man he was today. But now, all women saw him as a money bag.

Of course, he dated from time to time, and he recently 'settled down' with someone he could marry one day when he should need a child, but it was more of a mutual agreement than love.

Still, Theodore never envied his sister. She deserved happiness, especially after growing up in his shadow. He also approved of this lover for his sister, compared to the multiple she'd bring home in the past.

It was a tough thing for Jessica to do because she knew that the very gaze of her elder brother and father was enough to tell her if they approved or not. And most of the time, when they didn't approve, she later found that the man she thought she 'loved' was really out for her money, or simply a player.

In her 27 years, she had endured a lot of heartbreak. So Theodore adored the experience for his dear sister Jessica.

He quickly sent her a text as the elevator doors beeped opened. Just like the rest of the building, only the dim lights for overnight illuminated the lobby as he made for the exit.

He didn't feel like driving, so he had phoned his driver twenty minutes ago to take him home. Just like expected, he found the car already waiting out front.

"Good night, Chris. Sorry to have you out so late," Theodore greeted as Chris held the door open for him.

"No problem, sir. Straight home I presume?"

Theodore suddenly felt the fatigue gnawing away at him. "Indeed."

Chris chuckled lightly as he made for the twenty-minute drive to his boss' penthouse.

Theodore couldn't wait to get home, take a hot shower, fall in bed and get whatever five or so hours of sleep he could until another day tomorrow.

He rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, trying to soothe the throb in it. But he soon learnt that nothing could've been done to help the wretched thing. Still, he found himself drifting off as Chris drove him home.

"What the hell..." The sound of Chris' confused voice snapped Theodore from his touch of slumber, as he also felt that the car was slowing down.

The streets of the city were practically bare of human life and form, but as he gazed out the window he couldn't comprehend what he saw.

A man, about forty years or so, was running at full speed, with nothing with venom in his eyes. But that hadn't been what was confusing. It was the small form of a female body a couple of feet ahead, with the highest heels gripped between her fingers as she sped down the sidewalk away from the man.

The way she momentarily looked over her shoulders with fear in her eyes told Theodore that the man had been chasing her.

"Help!" she cried, and something in Theodore's chest tugged as he gripped the edge of Chris' chair.

"Chris, stop!" But he didn't have to tell Chris, because he was already pulling over at the woman's side before Theodore gave the order. "Get it!" Theodore shouted swiftly, and the woman made no hesitation in getting in the stranger's car. She was just certain that it had to be safer than the man she'd angered.

"I'll get you bitch!" The obviously drunken man screeched as Chris sped off.

Theodore watched in confusion as the woman gazed through the back windshield at the man who got tinier the farther Chris drove.

He couldn't help but notice how much she was trembling. She could've been cold, he thought. Her minimum clothing and the cool November night was enough to make her cold indeed. But he could tell that that wasn't the cause of her trembling. He knew a scared woman when he saw one, and she definitely was.

She slouched against the leather seats when she was certain that the man was gone. She still looked tense, but much more relaxed.

"Are you okay?" Theodore managed to ask, but he then noticed that her eyes had been drooping.

Was she that tired? Or was she drugged? He wanted to know. Because the last thing she did was mumbled 'hhmm' before deep slumber took her whole.

Theodore couldn't sleep all night. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was a tiny woman running own the bare streets of Queens, with fear filled eyes and the tiniest piece of clothing a woman could ever wear.

The sun had barely risen, and he was already in his kitchen, sipping coffee and skipping through yesterday's paper, even though his mind couldn't focus on what he had been reading.

Theodore positioned himself directly where he knew he would see when she should appear from the stairs, but he had no clue what he'd say or do.

How would she even react? Will she think he took advantage of her? Maybe.

After she fell asleep last night in Chris' car, there was no waking her. He tried to wake her to ask for an address, but she was out cold. It was then that he knew she'd been drugged for sure, especially after walking from the car to his penthouse door, and she still didn't even flinch in his arms.

She felt so small and frail, even cold. The way her eyebrows were set in a permanent knot made him see that she didn't smile much. Theodore acknowledged that a woman so young ought to be at her happiest.

She didn't look older than twenty-five, yet she was being chased down the street by creepy men, and looking like she had carried the whole world on her shoulders all her life.

Theodore cursed under his breath when he remembered that he was supposed to get the Italian vineyard under control today, but he didn't feel fit to do any such thing. He'd barely caught two hours of sleep.

Grabbing his phone, he decided to call his assistant, just in case Jerry had already told her that he would like to arrange a trip to leave.

"Good morning, sir. I trust you slept well?" Amy, his assistant, asked as she tried her best to stifle a yawn. Amy knew damn well that the only time Theodore called this early, was when he didn't sleep well.

"Yes. Sorry to wake you, Amy. I just wanted to know if Jerry had spoken to you about a flight arrangement."

"No, sir," Amy mumbled, trying desperately not to sound rude. However, 5:30 was an awfully early time to make a business call.

"I will tell you more about it later on. I won't be coming in today either, so will you communicate this to Jerry-I mean, Mr. Smith?"

He sometimes forgot that his friendship with Jerry was only between the two of them, and he also knew that there was no way Jerry could've told Amy about the flight just yet. He only wanted an excuse to distract himself from the woman upstairs. A work call was exactly what he needed to do just that.

"Will do. Is there anything else, sir?"

"That will be all, Amy. Have yourself a great day." His head quickly whipped around when the small patter of feet filled his ears, and he didn't even wait for Amy's reply as he ended the call.

He immediately rose to his feet as a very confused woman stumbled down the stairs, rubbing her sleepy eyes and hugging one arm around her waist.

The pull of the chair against the tiled floor caught her attention, and she yelped in shock as she quickly spun around to Theodore's direction.

She involuntarily dressed back as Theodore slowly walked through the kitchen exit that led directly towards the base of the stairs and into the lounge area, and a familiar glint of fear in her eyes had him stopping promptly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly as he raised his hands defenselessly. It oddly pained him to watch how she eyed him carefully, as if anticipating his attack.

"Who-who are you? Where am I?" Her eyes searched frantically for something familiar, but she only grew more scared when she found none.

Theodore studied her, seeing that she was uneasy. It was obvious that she had been through quite a lot. He didn't like it.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" He asked, but regretted it immediately when her eyes widened in horror.

"Did you- did you touch me?" She started trembling, and this only made Theodore more aware of the woman. What had happened to her?

"No," he said quickly. "I didn't touch you like...that. My helper dressed you and all."

It was then when she realized she had been wearing someone's clothes that wasn't hers. In fact, she didn't have her clothes at all. She had no time to grab them last night when-

"Oh my gosh I was drugged!" It all came rushing back to her, and Theodore blew out a breath of relief when her fear wasn't directed at him any longer.

"You were running down the street," he provided, hoping to drag her memory completely.

She nodded. "I know. After I realized what was going to happen, I ran." Her hands flew to her head as she gripped it, and an involuntary shiver ran through her body. She looked sick, as if she was about you hurl every meal she's had since birth. "I had no clue how I didn't pass out before you saw me." She gulped. "Th-thank you."

Silence sat between them as Theodore studied her longer. He was intrigued. He felt like he needed to know more about this woman. There was so much he could see behind her dark eyes.

"What is your name?" He finally spoke, and she met his eyes again after thinking about how to dismiss the moment and go home.

She was grateful that he saved her from what could've been the worst night of her life. But she couldn't say she wasn't shaken up by waking up in an obviously rich man's house.

Just the exquisiteness of the tiles alone could explain it completely. It must've been an angel who sent him last night, but she also knew she needed to leave. She kept people in her life at a minimum for a reason, and the way this man eyed her showed her just enough that he wasn't through with her just yet.

"A-Abigail," she finally said, trying desperately to soothe her nerves.

Theodore nodded, accepting that much as he moved forward and outstretched his hand. "Theodore."

But she didn't take his hand. Instead, she flinched back as if he had a spider on his finger, taking Theodore completely by surprise and offense.

"Forgive me," she mumbled. "But I don't allow men to touch me."

"It's a harmless handshake."

"That it is. But believe me, I just can't. Don't take my action too offensive, Theodore. I simply cannot help it."

Despite his offense, he appreciated the way his name sounded on her tongue, and this very phobia of hers intrigued him even more.

"Would you care to join me for coffee then? I promise I won't bite." His lips tilted up in a small smile as he tried to lighten the air with humour.

Abigail was skeptical, as she only wanted to thank this man and be on her way, never crossing paths with him again, as he didn't belong in her world, or she in his.

But she already offended him once, and she didn't want to offend him further by refusing something as simple as coffee.

So, Abigail nodded once and followed him into the kitchen, where he set another cup to brew.

Theodore ensured he kept a good five feet between them at all times seeing that his proximity unsettled her.

"I must say, you have a lovely home. If I hadn't been so confused and scared out of my mind when I woke up, I would've appreciated the exquisite view below. We are far high up, aren't we?" She chuckled nervously at her attempts to make things less awkward.

The least she could do was have a decent conversation over coffee with the man who helped her, hoping he didn't have any ill intentions himself and had been honest about not touching her last night.

"Indeed we are," he mumbled, not even realizing that he had his eyes narrowed.

But the way she talked shocked him even more. It was obvious that there were a lot of layers beneath what he could see, but there definitely was an educated brain in there too.

"Tell me, Abigail, what do you do?"

"Oh." She gulped, nervous. "I'm in my final year of graduate school. Six years of college finally coming to an end." She chuckled again, hoping he wouldn't press more.

But indeed, he did.

His eyebrows shot up in shock, but he was impressed. "You're obtaining your Master's Degree? In what major?"

"Marketing and finance. I've always been a sucker for it."

"And your plans after you graduate?"

"I would like to visit my aunt for a year back home, but then I'd like to attain a permanent spot at the firm I currently work at part time. It's quite nice," she explained, hoping to end soon. But what harm can come from a harmless conversation?

"You work part time while pursuing a Master's Degree?"

"I have to," she said. "I couldn't be pursuing the degree if I hadn't."

"Do you live alone?"

"I have a roommate. She helps me with rent."

"Were you with her last night?" Theodore asked, simply wanting desperately to know what the hell happened last night.

Abigail gulped as she grew uncomfortable. She swallowed the rest of the coffee before peering at him.

"No," came her simple reply. But Theodore wasn't letting up. She knew it would've come up eventually, still she wished it hadn't.

"May I ask. What happened last night?"

'No you may not,' she wanted to say, but she didn't. After all, he seemed nice and she didn't know what he'd be like if should be pissed off.

She gulped again, as nerves rose in her. Would she tell him? Could she?

"I-I don't only work a day job," she said, fingering the rim of her cup. "Let's just say, sometimes things get unsettling."

"There is no shame in your grind, Abigail. You can be open with me," he said, but winced at his choice of words.

Still, how does she tell him that he didn't need to know anything else about her? They will go their separate ways after this casual morning, and never see each other again. So why must she tell him her life story?

She didn't have to, and she knew it. But something in his voice and something about the way he spoke told her that he was used to receiving a reply after a question, or in her case, an inquiry that he would require an answer for.

What could it hurt? He did save her after all. And once she collects her clothes from him or his maid, she could be on her way.

Hopefully he would empathize and send her on a cab, since she left all her belongings at the club last night. Maybe she could walk, but she had no idea how far he lived from her.

Abigail knew she'd have to go get her stuff from the club too later, seeing that she had no money to buy a new phone, and she needed her purse from her dressing room. She also had a class at 11 today, which she simply could not miss.

So the faster she answered his questions, the sooner she'd be free to go.

'There's no shame in what you do Abi,' she told herself as she prepared to start.

"I work as a stripper at Vanx Club. My day job alone can't pay my bills and my tuition. A year ago, someone introduced me to it and I work three nights a week to manage well, just until I graduate. Living in the city is not cheap."

That explained why she'd been half naked with high heels dashing down the street.

Theodore gasped when Abigail pulled the blonde hair that he thought was her, from her head, revealing a dark brown curly mane beneath the wig instead.

He hadn't even realized that she was wearing a blonde wig, but he couldn't help but appreciate how her natural hair complimented her smooth, olive skin.

He took a minute to really appreciate her dazzling beauty. Though her eyes were lost and far-off, their brown was almost golden with small visible specks of green, and her cheeks were plump, complementing her round face. And her lips... How did she manage to get them so naturally pink? She was a beauty indeed, a beauty that should be happy always.

"I see," was all he said, though he wanted to say much more. However, another session of silence sat between them as six a.m. struck to existence.

There was so much more that he wanted to ask--wanted to know about her. He suddenly wanted to know why that creep of a man was chasing her, and oddly wanted to protect her from him or anyone similar.

But nothing else came. He simply processed the few he knew about her, thinking about what to do next.

"This has been lovely and I thank you once again for your kindness. But I must go." Abigail's voice cut sharply through his thoughts and through the silence, and he nodded in agreement, seeing that he couldn't bring himself to ask anything else of her.

But Abigail had taken it wrongly. She thought he was probably wondering why he brought her into his home, and gave her one of his rooms. It hadn't been the first time someone looked down on her for what she did. It was why she wore her disguise when stripping.

Being 'Kitten' was never being 'Abigail' in her world. Kitten, her stage personality and name, was a naughty blonde who did the most exquisite striptease dance that always earned her a lot of tips and admirers.

What made her stand out, was her personal rule of no physical contact whatsoever whenever she did a personal dance with a man. It somehow aroused them even more, as they would WANT desperately to touch her and feel her curves against their hands. But the minute Kitten inches close, she steps away as soon as their hand reaches out for her.

Little did they know that it wasn't a part of the act, but she simply didn't want them to touch her. When or if a man touches her, her whole body feels like it had been submerged in lava, and her heart feels like it would jump from her chest.

Abigail only discovered this 'phobia' of men's touch when she settled in New York two years ago. A small part of it had to do with her mother and Mark's relationship, and a lot to do with her and Nicholas'...

Despite it all, Abigail accepted her life and did what she had to do. If people like Theodore looked down on her, then so be it. At the end of the day, it will only be her and herself. If someone should make her feel bad about stripping, then she ends up leaving, what will she do then? Suffer on her own?

No. She can't succumb to societal shame. She simply cannot.

"Of course." Theodore nodded in agreement as he rose from his seat. "I'll drop you home."

This was his invisible plan to know where she lived, as he was sure he wasn't through with her just yet.

"You don't have to," she replied quickly.

"Oh but I must. What kind of a man would I be if I didn't? I insist." The tone of his voice and his stance alone told her that there was no going back, so she reluctantly agreed.

He collected her things and handed her a small drawstring bag with them as he led her through the door.

"I'm sorry I couldn't provide a proper breakfast for you. I didn't expect you to be up so early, and my helper doesn't rise until 7, there about. I'd be happy to take you to breakfast, if you'd like," he offered out of pure courtesy.

"Thank you but you've already done so much. I will make breakfast once I'm home. I appreciate your offer though."

He nodded at her response, a little disappointed but respected her decision nonetheless.

Theodore remained careful throughout his journey through the building, seeing how she would flinch away whenever they both would reach for a door at the same time.

He wanted to show her the mere courtesy of being a gentleman, but it seemed foreign to her.

His mind couldn't get a rest all the way to her apartment, as she directed him.

She lived pretty close to Vintage Wines' head office, which he could recall was a few blocks away from Vanx Club.

Fate. That had to be it. Theodore was convinced that she was meant to run into his life last night. Literally.

He just knew that he couldn't let her slip away.