Chapter Three: Alaric Night

A splendid panoramic view was visible from the waiting room. In a span of half an hour, I watched the sunset. The world got swallowed up by a cloak of darkness, spotted by millions of stars and city lights.

It was breathtaking but brutal to admire when my heart was lodged inside my throat. In this half-hour, I've come up with dozens of ways I could persuade Mr. Night to let me stay—that was if he didn't lose the company. None of them was promising or guaranteed.

I didn't have a badass degree or some highly prolific background. I was simply an intern trying to start a life and afford my art studies.

I settled back into the plush, buttery-leather seat and closed my eyes. It felt like I was enveloped by a soft cloud and momentarily, and wishfully, dreamed of the day I would be able to buy decent furniture that didn't batter my limbs or leave me in physical despair the next day. Heck, I'd settle for a cheap bed that didn't have stiff, sharp-edged springs cutting through the mattress like the one I currently have to sleep on at night.

It was part of my bedtime routine to fold layers of old towels under the mattress cover, but my efforts were proven fruitless. I'd still wake up with nicks and cuts across my body.

I reopened my eyes, immediately finding a fresh cut on the inside of my forearm. It wasn't big, but it was enough to draw questions.

The secretary who resembled Malibu Barbie from the front entrance strutted past, swaying her hips with intent and passing me an unsurprised look.

She drew a loud, purposeful sigh, stopped, stared, then turned away. She took a few steps, paused once again, her shoulders sagging.

"For heaven's sake," she muttered, then twisted around and headed straight toward me.

My eyes widened as she approached, anxiety rearing its ugly head with a vengeance. What did I do wrong now?

"You left your files unattended, didn't you?" She crossed her arms, narrowing an icy gaze down on me.

I shifted in my seat. "What do you mean? I was at my desk the whole time."

"Did you use the ladies' room?"

My face scrunched up. "Yes."

"Then you left your file unattended," she clipped. "I should have probably warned you, but the competition is stiff around here. Everyone has a friend or relative trying to get a position here at Night & Hathaway Inc, and in order to do that, someone has to go. You're an easy target. That, and…" her eyes narrowed down my body, then worked their way back up again. "You're pretty. Young. Naive, even. The women around here want all the attention from Mr. Night that they can get, and you're taking it from them."

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. "What on earth are you even on about? I'm not into Mr. Night. I'm just here to make a living."

Malibu Barbie sighed, shaking her head before turning and strutting away. "You'll be, soon enough."

I snorted, sinking back into the comfy chair and watching her disappear around the corner. I knew someone purposefully set me up, but for such a dumb reason as to over winning attention from my boss? How ridiculous was that? I never even met him!

I barely had a chance to stew over what had just been said to me when the wide, golden doors clicked open, and a secretary—at least, that's what I assumed she was— appeared through the doorway and headed straight for me.

Unlike the rest of the unfriendly staff I've encountered this far, her cherry-painted lips were set in a sweet smile. "Miss O'Donnell?"

I nodded, quickly springing up to my feet. "Yes, that's me."

"Delighted to make your acquaintance. I'm Feronia James, Mr. Night's personal assistant." She lifted a hand and motioned toward the partially-open golden doors. "Mr. Night is ready to see you."

My stomach twisted into a knot, and I forced myself to return a smile. However, I was pretty confident it was more of a grimace. "Thank you."

My legs felt heavy and unsteady at the same time as I ambled toward Mr. Night's office, my heart frantic inside my chest. I took a deep, steady breath in order to clear my thoughts, deciding I would take a stand no matter what. I would plead my case and hopefully, though I knew it was a far-fetched-hopefully, that Mr. Night wouldn't react the same way as Cruella did.

If not worse.

A low groan emanated from my throat as I stepped through the doorway to find Mr. Night sitting by his desk. His dark gaze immediately lifted to meet mine, and I stopped breathing.

Holy shit. To say he was handsome would be an insult as much as it was an understatement.

I gulped, trying to keep my posture confident as I approached the adonis scrutinizing me with an unreadable look.

I immediately forgot what I was going to say.

I could only acknowledge that I was in so much trouble.