Their Little Helper

by Nichole Riley

  "Wow, congratulations Victoria that is an amazing accomplishment." She nods in thanks before continuing.

  "We are very excited for this new chapter, but more to the point of why I dragged you in here today. I think you have an eye for talent that is different than what we currently have, and I want to see what you can do."

  Holy shit that compliments—but wait she is offering me a promotion. Breathe Lia. Do not squeal. I repeat, act professionally. Even as I go over this manta in my head, I cannot stop the tingly feeling that zips through my body. I desperately need a way to release this pent-up energy.

  I cross my legs hoping that it will help suppress it. Nope. That is just uncomfortable at the moment, so I uncross my legs and try just to sit still; only to discover the heel of my foot starts bouncing the moment it is left to its own accord. I need to know more about what Victoria is saying.

  "Wow thank you that means the world coming from you. I would be honored being considered for this position. How do I demonstrate to you that I want and am willing to do whatever it takes?"

  "In truth, I have something in mind." I swear there is a spark that blinks in her eyes before she continues, " Klaudia was originally in charge of artist interviews and exhibit pitches. But since she is relocating back to Chicago next week, she is no longer able to do it. Do you feel up to the challenge, Lia?"

  Wait what--

  "You want me to pick a headlining exhibit at the Spring Show? I don't think I am qualified for that." Like seriously I do not think I am qualified.

  She laughs, but it's in this ‘do not be ridiculous' not in an ‘I'm laughing at you' sort of way, "Amelia, I wouldn't be proposing this to you if I didn't think you could handle it. Plus, I want to behold just what you can undertake and if you are ready for that consultant position. The group of artists have already been chosen by Klaudia so all I am asking is for you to conduct the interviews and pitch the most legitimate options to me.”

  I sit in a stunned silence before I kick myself into gear and assume the task.

  That same office door being open rips me out of that flashback. How did I forget this is the worst time to be zoning out. Has it seriously only been two weeks since that meeting?

  "Amelia, should I ask why you are standing in front of my office barefoot?" Victoria's face morphs into a look between confusions and trying not to break a smile. Hey, at least she sees the humor in this situation instead of what I was distressed about.

  "A simple mishap to start the day." I shrug quickly and feel a bit of heat creeping into my cheeks.

  She looks down at her watch, and I just know she is calculating how much time I have to put myself back together until the interviews start.

  "I was just about to run out to get a replacement cup of coffee to get my head together. I am prepared for today even though it doesn't look like it at the moment."

  She is outright laughing at me right now, "We have all had those mornings, so go collect your coffee and just relax. You will do great."

  "Yes, Ma'am," my head nods in a vague understanding before my cold feet begin their journey to my office.

  "Oh and Amelia, Baking Soda and a few drops of water gets the coffee residue off of Louis like a godsend. Here," she turns; walks back into her office, and then produces a small little orange cardboard box out of thin air. She hands me the box and is already walking down the hall before I can get a word out.

  "Oh my god. Thank you, Victoria, that's just what I needed to turn my morning around," I call to her retreating figure. I could seriously cry happy tears. That woman just saved my in debt ass; she has to be a freaking angel.

  Chapter Three

  After my run in with my boss I make it to my office with my feet secured inside with my flats in record time. Within a few seconds, I have a baking soda paste smeared on my almost ruined shoes and place them on the opened window sill by my desk. Okay, one crisis averted.

  Now I just have to set up the meeting room, get everything ready, and wow my boss with an artist choice—nope. I need coffee first.

  My door swings shut on my way out and before I know it I am standing outside of the main entrance of the gallery. I inhale the chilly October morning. There is just something relaxing about a late Fall day. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's just the autumn feel and the upcoming holidays that just make a person love October.

  As I begin walking south on Fourth Ave. towards Austin's Bistro. I can already feel my feet protesting for being forced into no support ballet flats especially after being barefoot for over an hour.

  Even though I am trying desperately to keep my head cleared, at least until my daily caffeine intake, I can't help everything I need to accomplish overwhelms me while I walk. Kind of takes away from the downtown scenery.

  It takes me just under ten minutes before I can smell heavenly aroma filling the air. The bell charms when I push the door open and the comfort of safety engulf me the second I step inside. I'd say something poetic like it's like being seduced by a lover on a winter's night, but come on let's be honest, this is so much better than any lover can compare.

  Either I've just had shitty lovers, or this stuff is just that good.

  Possibly it's both?

  The sound of giggling snaps me out of my haze of thoughts. I pause just inside the door and finally notice that almost every table is filled with nothing but pre-teen girls and their mothers.

  Ah, they must be in town for that popular boy band concert I heard about on the radio this morning. Was it something like Liot Dive? No wait it’s Riot Five. That’s right. Now thinking about it I hate to admit some of their songs are pretty catchy. How sweet all these little girls are taking up my refuge. Do I sound as sarcastic as I feel?

  "Lia? Didn't you already get your coffee today?" the cute little brunette behind the counter comments before I even have a chance to tell her anything.

  "Well, Jane, thanks to a not so coordinated intern I am here to replace my first cup. Your dad doesn’t by any chance have a shoe store in the back because I could use a replacement of those too." I joke and plaster on a smile to hind my pain of almost losing my babies. Should I start to be concerned over my shoe obsession?

  Nah, silly of me for even having that brain lapse.

  Jane laughs along with me none the wiser. I kind of want to hate her for it but I know from years of coming here that the owner's daughter is not one to care about high heels. It's just not her thing; which I respect since her obsession is gorgeous classic guitars and smoking sinfully gorgeous rock stars. So see we all have our little bits of heaven we allow ourselves.

  "I'm guessing you just want another one of your regulars?"

  "Oh yes, please. I need it more than you would know today." I catch myself a split second before I allowed a moan slip out. Yes, the coffee is just that good. You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.

  The muffled gruff laugh coming from behind me catches my attention and I turn my head to see who else is laughing at me this morning.

  Well, holy go—

  Before I can stop myself my eyes travel slowly down a body, I can only describe as ‘holy Jesus piece of god.”

  I take in a face made for Hollywood. He looks so familiar. It's like I've seen every inch of him on the silver screen staring provocatively into my soul.

  I hear irritating giggling and look over my shoulder to see the little girls snapping photos of the handsome stranger with their phones. Really, are they even old enough to have their own phone? And apparently I'm not the only one thinking I'm staring at a celebrity. The name is on the tip of my tongue.

  I look back towards the stranger and see him smiling at the girls. That just sets off another round of giggles. I decided since he was preoccupied I would take a minute to observe him closer.

  Not only does this man have the most mesmerizing shade of blue-green eyes I've ever seen. Almost the exact color of the Caribbean Sea. But add to those eyes, cheekbones that should be carved from stone, and a jaw line that I've only e
ver see in a GQ magazine article with that perfect amount of stubble. I crawl my eyes down this throat that is calling to have my tongue run along it tasting every inch. I cacth a chest that has to be double the size of my own—

  A throat clearing drags my ashamed eyes back up to his sea-like depths.

  "Would you mind finishing your order, Lovely?"

  Shit that voice does some naughty things to my lower region. Wait, Lovely?

  "Sorry, you just looked familiar I was trying to place where I know you from." Words stumble out of my mouth and I turn back around to pay Jane for my drink. Why doesn’t she look at all effected by this man? Am I the only one having issues with coherent thoughts? She almost looks like she knows him.

  "I think I'd remember someone like you." I can almost hear the smirk in his voice, "I mean I do get that I look like an Eastwood a lot."

  Oh, so he is an arrogant one. Great. But on the other hand that's it! That's exactly who he looks like. Damn it.

  "That's five dollars and seventy-two cents, Lia" Jane's voice drags me out of yet another internal debate.

  "Jane, I'll pick up Miss Lia's coffee today."

  Well, shit for a whole different reason. I do not have time today to invade being picked up in a coffee shop, even when the guy looks like this. His looks mean one thing, he is used to having women falling all over that pretty as all sin face or more explicitly falling right onto of that beautiful as all sin mouth. And probably enjoying every single second of that fu—nope don’t go there.

  "Look Bubby; I don't like people buying me coffee. I seriously hate having to owe a stranger. Plus I have a boyfriend so you won't be scoring with that charming smile and a few extra dollars." That little lie usually works every time right? Oh my god I really just called this guy ‘bubby’ instead of ‘buddy.’ Someone kill me. Like seriously just right here would be perfect.

  This overly arrogant sex god creeps his eyes down my body before ending up back at my eye all before saying "Sweetheart, while I'm sure your boyfriend has his hands full with all that is wrapped up in small little frame of yours. I wasn't coming onto you; it just looks like you could really use a free cup of coffee."

  He drags out the really probably just to rub in the fact that I really do look like a hot mess in need of a lot more then just caffeine. Great. This man is looking all Eastwood like, and I'm over here looking like train-wreck. "So take the coffee or don't. I don't care. I was just trying to help out, and while I'd enjoy nothing more than to be stereotyped as your basic horny asshole; I have a meeting to catch so it was a pleasure. Really." I just catch his eyes rolling as he throws a twenty on the counter and turns away to grab his coffee order being called out by the overly flushed young barista.

  Huh? He was standing in line, but they already had his order ready? I have never seen him before, but apparently, he's regular, like myself. The only logical choice now is to find a new favorite coffee. Damn it nope, can’t do that. Guess I will just have to deal with possibly facing that man again.

  Without so much as a look back to see if I am taking his offer he walks through the door and out of the shop into the early afternoon overcast light. The only thing left is the sound of the bell hitting the glass.

  Yay and now I feel like a shitty human being just the freaking cherry on top of my day. Okay, new self-rule; do not talk to anyone until I have at least one full cup of caffeine into my system.

  Jane takes the money off the counter and hands me my black medium roast steaming cup giving me a look between apologetic and ‘what the hell girl.'

  Yeah, what the hell indeed, Lia.

  By the time I've walked the ten blocks back to the gallery, I was running seriously behind. So the rest of the early afternoon was a whirlwind of finally getting caffeine into my system and preparing everything for these interviews. The only thing that was finally going my way was my shoes were perfect when I got back from Austin's. Praise the all mighty shoe goddess.

  I take a second to check the time and see it is already one fifteen. Shit. My first interview was at one.

  I speedily make my way to the front of the gallery in the hope of not having pissed off my very first interview. As I round the last corner, I nearly trip over my newly revived death traps.

  Guess I already did piss one of the artist’s off, but at least it's not because I was running late though. I just can't win today, can I?

  It looks like my day just got a whole lot more sexual frustrating because sitting in one of the front gallery benches with an art portfolio resting on the seat next to him is none other than the god look alike from the coffee shop. Just wonderful—

  Check out the rest of Lia and Nolan’s story in Facade.

  https://www.nrnkauthors.com/the-sculpted-illusions-saga

  Sin’s Mistress Blurb

  Revelations are upon us and

  Redemption is for the Wicked

  Legends are written by those who come out on top.

  And the storytellers tend to write themselves as the Heroes.

  So you can’t believe the lore told by the gods.

  You see contrary to what you’ve been told

  not all demons are “evil”

  and not all angels are the “good guys.”

  The truth is those labels mean nothing more than a race.

  That being said though, I might still fit some of my demonic stereotypes.

  Redemption is for the Wicked.

  My story is dark.

  My tastes are demoralizing.

  My lovers are sinful.

  And my life is not for the easily offended.

  Revelations are upon us

  I may be known as the Antichrist,

  but sweetie that’s is just a name.

  I have had hundreds of them.

  Let me tempt you to hear my story.

  It is not one you have heard before.

  So, come play my game and let’s see who wins.

  Turn the page to read the first chapter of Noire’s story…

  Chapter One:

  When Wicked Wakes

  The bedroom door closing behind my back stirs me from my late afternoon slumber, and when I crack my eyes open, I am met with my fifth favorite view; Times Square during sunset. I always find myself enamored by the rays of the sun bouncing off the glass paned buildings, and the crowds of tourist scurrying about that look like ants so far below. The view from my thirteenth-floor penthouse floor to ceiling windows could not be more spectacular if I had been pulled the image from my dreams.

  I regretfully pull my eyes from the view when my ears register the sound of footsteps behind me. I slowly turn over in the bed during which I take note of each and every sore spot along my inner thighs. I relish in the tender aching feel as I trace my long midnight black nails over them. When the culprit of my discomfort comes into my line of sight, I am met with my third favorite view.

  The bastard strolls towards me stark ass naked, his monstrous dick swinging with every thunderous step. The lines and divots that define every single muscle in his sinful body on full glorious display. I instantly feel the heat igniting in my core. I am women enough to admit that I am all but salivating at the way his muscles bulge; their strength being exhibited as if they were carved from the most exotic of stone.

  The smirk that shadows Zendred’s lips screams that he is fully aware of the effect he has on me. Although the cocky bastard knows full well of just how potent his appearance is, if the reception he gets from almost every other creature throughout the eight realms has anything to say about it.

  We have played this game so many times over the centuries that he is a master at knowing every ache he can leave in my body. When I say he’s a master, I do not use the term lightly. I mean he is the only one who has ever had the balls to push me past the boundaries I never thought existed in my subconscious. Zen’s smirk added to the dangerous mirth shining in his paler than sky eyes is an expression I know all too well.

  I am about to be fucked.

  Ag
ain.

  Until I can barely move and until I forget my own existence.

  Well bring it on bitch. We both know I can win this game.

  “Well my little she-demon is that challenge I spy deep in your unholy eye?” The thick rumble of his voice clenches every muscle south of my belly button, but lord knows I don’t bend that easy. It is just not my style. That’s what makes this little cat and mouse routine all the more entertaining.

  “My, my are we rhyming now to spice things up? Has our fun grown dull so soon?” my fake pout is perfectly convincing, I make a show of scanning my eyes slowly down the length of his entire being while running my delicate fingers through my sex tousled crimson hair. I catch a matted curl in my delicate fingers and give it just the slightest tug towards my red stained lips. One motion I know sends his blood racings south; since he constantly desires to have my hair wrapped firmly in his grasp.

  Zen’s slow stalking ends when his shins hit the edge of my mattress. A dangerous spark flashing quickly in his irises, and I know the real game is about to begin. “A mere coincidence. But I do enjoy the new script though. It might bring something new to this old play?” I watch as he emphasizes each word with a deliberate movement of his legs. His knee lands onto the bed and I feel the vibrations of it through the mattress from my spot on the far-left side.

  I leisurely scrape my nails from my neck and down my body as I taunt him with my words. His eyes are trained on the motion. “Oh dear, oh my, if our fire has fizzled we will need something stronger than simple words.”

  One perfect eyebrow arches in question on his face as he brings his eyes back up to meet mine. I love watching his body grow hot and bothered all over again. Nothing is swinging any longer. No, my strong and tempting demon is standing at full attention now.