by Emma Dean
“Well, that’s everything then,” Jay says, his voice grumbly.
“Did we really need a meeting for this?” the new guy asks quietly, and everyone turns, wide-eyed, to look at him in alarm. Poor little human. So new, and now he’s already doomed to suffer for eternity, or at least for his tenure here.
Jay looks at him like a cat that’s just caught a mouse, and I know he wants to play with his kill.
“What do you mean, Gideon?” he asks. I high-five myself in my head. I knew his name was Gideon!
“Um, I just meant that, um, wouldn’t an email have… We just have so much backlog at the moment… I don’t…” He finally allows his nervous explanation to trail off. Jay stalks around the table to stand behind him. It’s intimidating as shit to have your obviously pissed-off boss standing right behind you, and Jay knows it.
“Are you the team manager now, Gideon? Would you like to go sit in my seat over there? Do you want to make the decisions on which directives need to be given in person, and which over the group email? Do you want to make the decision about which new employee isn’t working out? Because I make those fucking decisions,” he shouts, slamming his hand down. All of us cringe in our seats. Other than Darren, that is. He looks pretty relaxed as he leans back, tapping away on his phone, just ignoring the situation completely. Jay wouldn’t dare tell him off for it, though. He’s way too scared of the bulky shifter. The dominance Darren lets off is enough to scare most people, even dumb humans.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about what you meant, newbie. Get the fuck out of here,” Jay says, cutting Gideon off. The new hire looks about ready to sink to the floor in a messy puddle of melted human. Shit, he can’t seriously be telling him to leave-leave, right? Surely he only means out of the glass room... “What are you doing just sitting there? Go pack up your shit and leave,” he adds angrily, and my eyes widen when I realise he’s deadly serious. What a prick. He really can’t stand anyone correcting his bullshit.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” I ask, the words flying out of my mouth before I can crush the fuckers with sense. He turns his glare on me.
“Everyone except Miss Harlow, get the hell out of the glass room,” he growls, and they all hastily get to their feet. The new guy is the first to the door, in a rush to escape the embarrassment of being sacked in his first week at a company I doubt he even wanted to work for in the first place. “Newbie, go sit by my desk. We’ll discuss this in a minute, once I’m done with Kayla,” he adds. Gideon’s gaze flies to me from the doorway, and he gives me a small nod of appreciation. I gave Jay’s anger a new target—me. He may not get fired today, but I might. I sigh, watching everyone else file out of the room. Lizzy shoots me a worried look over her shoulder as she exits, the last to leave.
I watch as Jay crosses the room and slowly pulls down all of the blinds, cutting off the rest of the office to give us complete privacy. Once they’re all closed, I hear the deafening turn of the lock on the door and gulp anxiously. This really can’t be good. He strides back across the room, strutting like a fucking peacock, before climbing up and sitting on the table close to me.
I push my chair back a bit to give myself some more space. I don’t like how he’s looking down at me, so I tug my shirt up a little, paranoid he can see too much.
Having a curvy frame sucks sometimes. Clothes that cover and look modest on mannequins almost always end up looking a little provocative on me, thanks to my chest, hips, and ass. The rest of the world never lets you forget that when you’re a curvy girl, either.
“While I’m shouting at the newbie for questioning my management, you decide that that is the opportune moment to do the very same?” he asks, scooting a little closer. Why do men have to sit with their damn legs apart? I am way too close to his crotch for comfort right now.
“I didn’t mean to question your management, it’s just that he’s new. Can’t you cut him some slack?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even and stay calm. My grandma always said you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and Jay reminds me so much of a fly. Small, annoying, and pesky, they always fly around when you don’t want them near.
“And what about you, Harlow? Should I cut you some slack too?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, and I shudder at the sound of it. Creep.
“Well, I don’t think I deserve to be sacked for sticking up for Gideon. He’s new. He’ll get the memo to keep his mouth shut and fall in line like the rest of the robots that work here,” I respond, cringing at the robot comment, worried I may get in trouble for that one, but he laughs.
“I’m not going to fire you, Kayla,” he says, and I let out a relieved breath. “I mean, without you and Lizzy here, what else would I beat myself off to when I get home?” he adds, and I suck that breath right back in. He did not just say that. I choke on the air and he laughs, like it’s all just a joke to him. Maybe it is.
“You really did not just say that,” I whisper in shock. He’s been crude before, but nothing so direct, so blatant. Other than at the work Christmas party, anyway. Jay continues speaking, as if he didn’t hear me.
“If you really want me to give you a break, we could continue our fun from the Christmas party?” he suggests, and I instantly feel sick to my stomach. I’d assumed he was too drunk to fully remember exactly what happened, other than me turning him down. I’m suddenly right back there, like it’s happening all over again. I can feel his hands grabbing my ass roughly as he tries to shove his slimy tongue into my mouth. I shove him off the desk, just like I shoved him off me that night. I’d grabbed Lizzy and left straight after, not in the mood to get drunk and be merry after that invasion of space. I look down, seeing his eyes blazing with anger from where he sits on the floor.
“Screw you, asshole,” I bite out, turning on my heel as I head for the door. His hand grabs my shoulder as I reach for the lock, trying to pull me back. I use my magic to unlock the door and pull it open as I shove him away with my hands. “Keep your fucking hands off me!” I snap, storming out of the room. I realise just how loudly I’d shouted as I walk through the office, and my cheeks flame. Everyone is staring at me as I walk across the busy floor. I make my way to my desk, feeling like I’m doing a damn walk of shame as I grab my leather tote bag and coat.
“I’m leaving early,” I mumble to Lizzy, feeling my fingers itch, my magic wanting to slip out. I have to get out of here now, before it’s too late to hide it. The trouble I’d get in with the High Coven is much worse than the trouble I’ll get in for leaving work early. So much worse. Lizzy nods her head and goes to say something, but I’m already walking away, heading for the exit.
Every single pair of eyes watches me as I push the lift call button and wait for the doors to open. I feel a small sense of relief when they finally do. Stepping inside, I keep my eyes down as I push the button for the ground floor. It isn’t until the doors shut, leaving me alone and unwatched, that I look up, catching my own eyes in the mirrored walls of the lift. A couple of stray tears work their way down my cheeks. They’re not from sadness, but from anger. Fuck, I hate being an angry crier; nobody takes you seriously when you start crying. Swallowing thickly, I straighten my shoulders and quickly wipe away those damned tears rolling down my face. I don’t want any weakness to show once those lift doors open again.
Screw that asshole. I’m done with his shit. I’m a witch, damn it, and I’ll be damned if I let a puny, annoying, creep of a human treat me this way. He won’t get away with this again. It’s every witch for herself now.
Chapter Two – Good Friends & Bad Advice
Trying to answer the phone while stirring both my pasta for dinner and a hair removal potion proves more difficult than anticipated. I drop the spoons onto the kitchen counter, giving up the balancing act, and hit the answer button.
“What’s up?” I ask, as I put the phone to my ear.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You left in such a
rush, and you looked so upset,” Lizzy’s voice comes through the line, and I cringe.
“I’m sorry for storming off like that without an explanation. Jay is an asshole,” I reply, looking down and trying to remember which spoon went in which pot. I feel like avoiding this rookie mistake is something they’d teach you in How to Be a Witch 101: Don’t cook dinner while also cooking up revenge hair removal potions. I’m going to have to grab another spoon. I can’t risk all my hair falling out. It’s a bitch to make a potion that makes it grow back, but the remover potion is basic level stuff. Whoever came up with this crap had a wicked sense of humour.
“It’s fine, Kay. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright. What did he do?” she asks, probing for more information. I think about how to respond as I pull open my cutlery drawer in search of a replacement spoon for my pasta.
“It was a total repeat of the Christmas party,” I finally answer, grabbing a spoon and shoving it into the pasta pan before I can forget which spoon is which again. Which spoon is the witch spoon? I giggle at the thought.
“He didn’t really try it on again? Are you crying?” she asks, sounding concerned.
“No, laughing actually. I’m mixing up a nice hair removal potion. I’m gonna add it to the bastard’s coffee.” I take turns stirring the pasta and the potion, making sure to leave the spoons resting against their respective pan. No more rookie mistakes today.
“Hair loss? Do you really think that’s good enough? His hair line is already receding, you’d only be speeding up the process by a year or so,” Lizzy jokes, and I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s not like there’s anything else I can actually do. If I try and go above his head, it’s me who will get the sack, not him. They’ll find one reason or another to sack me before I can make any headway with a complaint. And I can’t use anything stronger than a hair loss potion or someone might report me for using magic carelessly in the presence of a human,” I mutter bitterly. Stupid laws. Stupid work. Stupid fucking pervert of a manager.
“Well, maybe you can’t do anything, but maybe your grandma can?” she suggests.
“My grandmother’s dead, she died a few months ago. You know that. You helped me move into her old house,” I say hesitantly, not knowing where she is going with this. Grandma’s house has been in the family for years. With housing prices being so insane in the area, no one would let this home leave the family. When she’d given it to me in her will, I’d moved straight out of my tiny apartment and into her old space. The extra room is welcome. Living in a cramped city is killer sometimes.
“I meant her grimoire,” she says in exasperation, like it should have been obvious, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Her grimoire?”
“Yeah, you did inherit the thing along with everything else, right?”
“I did, but my grandma was…” I trail off, biting my lip.
“Powerful? Eccentric? Surely a woman like that would have something worth using in that little black book of hers,” Lizzy continues for me.
“It’s brown.”
“Not the point and you know it, Kay.” I can hear her sigh. “You can’t let him get away with this. It’s an affront to women everywhere. Feminism has to start at home, Kayla. If he just keeps getting away with it, who knows how bad he could get? Really, this is the right thing to do. Not just for you and me, but for witches and wo—”
“Goddess, Lizzy, I get the freaking point. I’ll check the damn grimoire. I don’t know if I’ll find anything in there, though. I mean, whenever I’ve flicked through it, things seemed a little… err… on the dark side.” I bite my lip nervously, before quickly continuing in a rush. “Don’t get me wrong, my grandma wasn’t a black witch or anything, but she liked to study all kinds of magic, even those she wouldn’t practice.”
I glance down, and my eyes bulge wide as I notice the potion spilling over the edges of the pan, having turned into a sickly, dark-green bubbling mess while I was chatting. “Shit! I’ve got to go, Liz. I’ll update you tomorrow!” I shout, grabbing for a towel, or oven gloves, anything to try and stop this mess.
“Fine, but promise me this—do something. Don’t let yourself chicken out. Drink some vodka if that helps. Just freaking do something, girl. You can’t let yourself get walked all over by that asshole anymore,” Lizzy demands firmly.
“Fine!” I snap, finally finding a towel and quickly wrapping it over my free hand before grabbing the panhandle.
“Promise?” she prods.
“I promise,” I agree, hanging up the phone before anything else can go wrong. As if tempted by sod’s law, the fire alarm starts singing its anthem. Probably loud enough for the whole street to hear. Ughhhh.
I drop the pan with the potion into the sink, grabbing the salt I keep beside it and throwing the whole lot over the mixture. I turn around and see the smoke coming off my chicken pasta. My burning chicken pasta. I pull that off the hob too, throwing it into the damn sink as well. I use my magic to cut off the alarm, focusing all of my measly energy there to shut it up.
I eye the bottle of vodka in my kitchen cabinet longingly, the glass cabinet door giving me the tempting view. Lizzy, your wish is my command. I grab the vodka and a glass, and I head upstairs in search of my grandma’s grimoire.
No good story starts with pasta anyway.
* * *
…You can continue reading Kayla’s story by following this link!
Other Books by Emma Dean
Blue Mountain Wolf Pack (M/F)
Alpha Wolf
Broken Wolf
Wolf Moon
Reverse Harem Shifter Romance*
Spotted Her First
For Fox Sake
All Foxed Up
The Draga Court Series (Polyam/RH)
Princess of Draga
Crown of Draga
Jasmine of Draga
Heir of Draga
Queen of Draga
Fate of Draga
Prequel Novella – Royal Guard of Draga*
Christmas Epilogue Novella - Winter Solstice in Draga
*Can be read as a standalone before or after Princess of Draga, but in the timeline takes place before Princess.
*All paranormal stories are in the same world - the Council of Paranormals.
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About the Author
Emma Dean lives and works in California with her husband and son. She loves romance but needed something different so Draga Court was born. Council of Paranormals was soon to follow when shifters came to life.
With too many stories to write the schedule has been filled through 2019.
When she’s not writing she’s reading, or spending time with her family.
At least now that she’s publishing she has an excuse for not folding the laundry ;-)
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www.emmadeanromance.com