02. One Night Stand

"I'm speechless!" My best friend, Elisa Rhodes, screamed at the top of her lungs while a silver glint filled her doe eyes. If crazy had a look, she was the definition of it. Her blue hair was teased to the sky and her lips were covered in soft black lipstick, looking like Wednesday Addams if she liked color. "I'm really speechless!"

"If you were really speechless," I smoothed my hands down the black pencil skirt that fell just above my knees. I borrowed it from her for the interview. She was all too happy to give me a makeover— even though I only asked for something to wear. That's the kind of girl she was. Loving but always seeming to suffer from an identity crisis. "You wouldn't be talking right now."

"There's a difference between using sass and being an ass." She laughed, snapping her fingers in my face. They were covered in the same cherry red nail polish that mine were. It was on the verge of being trashy and classy all at the same time— I loved it. "Learn it before you hurt my feelings!"

I rolled my eyes, sliding on a pair of red three inch heels.

They really didn't deserve to be called heels, but I couldn't walk in anything else. I was too much of a klutz for that. Besides I really didn't need the extra height anyway. I was only four inches away from being six foot. I could do without the extra oomph. I didn't need the extra inches like some people.

Cough... cough.

I threw on a white tank top while Elisa poked and prodded my auburn hair. She said she was putting it in a bun, but it didn't take twenty minutes to put your hair in a freaking bun! It was called the lazy girl hairstyle for a reason.

"What are you doing to me?" I groaned as she yanked my head back with a strong force. God, she was pulling it too hard. I probably wasn't going to have any hair left by the time she was done with it. "Is this what Daniel meant when he said that you like it rough?"

"Oh, my God! He said that?" Her hands dropped down to her sides instantly and I was relieved of the pain. If only it could stay like this. "I thought he liked the handcuffs and the whips. I thought he liked the way I—"

"Don't even finish that sentence." I laughed, shaking my head in embarrassment and revulsion. She was too much sometimes. "I don't want to hear about your sex life before I go in for a job interview, okay?"

"Does that mean you want to hear about it later?" She double winked at me, failing to be even remotely sexy. It just looked like she had something in her eye. That's probably what I looked like when I was trying to flirt with someone. No wonder I was single. I mean, my last boyfriend was murdered inside of a rock club, but that was besides the point.

"No, Elisa!" I squealed, grabbing my small messenger bag from my closet. I threw it over my shoulder quickly, but it came back around and slapped me in the face. That was the kind of luck I had, ladies and gentleman. "I don't want to hear about how you listen to Barney's theme song while you do it! That's so weird."

"He told you that too?" She creased her eyebrows while her mouth hit the floor. "Looks like I'm going to be extra rough tonight. Would you turn me into the police if I murdered somebody?"

Only if there was a huge reward. You know, like ten thousand dollars. I wonder if that makes me a bad friend.

"Of course not." I draped my arm around her playfully, pulling her into a hug. "I would help you bury the body and hide the evidence."

"Stop trying to distract me!" She swooped out from underneath my hug. Damn— she was seeing right through me, like I was Casper the friendly ghost. "I'm going to finish doing your hair if it kills me!"

Well, honey, it's going to kill me first.

I sighed as she started pulling at my hair again. This was so not worth the pain. I would've rather walked into my interview with sex hair. Crazy, ruffled up sex hair that seemed to stick out way too much.

"Why do I have to get all dolled up?" I groaned, folding my arms across my large chest. "Margo is a woman! She isn't going to care about how my hair's done up or if I'm showing any cleavage."

"Well, you're not showing any cleavage." Elisa chuckled, seeming way too amused by my pain. "So, that's why the main focus is the hair! You have to give someone something to look at. That's the only way you're going to get ahead in this world."

"You're so vain." I muttered underneath my breath, letting a low sigh escape my parted lips.

"Correction—" She tapped my nose. "I'm so honest."

Yeah, that she was. She never failed to tell me when I looked horrible or when I was being too bitchy. She leveled me out, like adding a mixer into alcohol. I guess that's why we had been friends for so long.

Another fifteen minutes passed and my hair was finally finished. I looked into the mirror quickly, expecting to see a knotted up bird's nest, but there was only an intricate bun that had french braids wrapped around it.

So, that's what she was doing? Well, it was a lot better than what I expected. I thought it was going to look like something in between a bird's nest and bird shit.

My glance wavered on my hair for a while before falling onto the rest of my body. Yeah, I was tall, but even then I was still pretty curvy. My hips were rounded and my chest was on the bigger side to my dismay.

Sometimes it felt like I was carrying two heavy watermelons on my chest. It was a struggle and Elisa always made fun of me for it. She called me bazooka boobs.

FML.

I glanced down at my watch to check the time. It was half past eight. My interview was at nine, so I needed to get a move on if I wanted to make it to Salem's Court on time. I probably should've shown up a few minutes early. Time was of the essence, but I was lazy as hell. No one seemed to understand that.

"I love it, but I have to go." I said to Elisa, searching for my car keys. I found them thrown underneath my bed. God, I was too messy for my own good. No wonder my mom was always hounding me to clean my room.

I needed to stop being so lazy or hire a maid. The second option was really appealing honestly, but I didn't have the funds to do that. I should've made a gofundme account, since everyone else was doing it.

Lazy ass girl needs a housekeeper because she's lazy! Duh!

Yeah, I doubt anyone would've donated to that. I know I would've have.

Elisa gave me a quick embrace and a piece of advice to take with me on the road.

"Be polite, read the fine print before signing any contracts, and tell me if any hot guys go there!" She let out a soft chuckle. "If you get this internship, I just might apply as a student. I want to know what fish are on the market before I make my final decision."

"You have a boyfriend." I gave her a weak smile. "You shouldn't be worried about who's hot and who's not."

"My lips are in a relationship!" She shouted, stifling another laugh. "My eyes are not! I can check out boys, like I check out at the grocery store!"

I shook my head in bemusement, sliding into my small black car. It was eight forty-five now. I had fifteen minutes to make it to the interview, if I wanted to be there on time. I crossed my fingers as I started the car, praying that I wouldn't be late.

Too bad I couldn't miss the interview altogether— things would've been a lot easier if I had.

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Salem's Court was colossal to the point where you needed a map to find your way throughout the multiple buildings. Each building was several stories high, but fortunately they were all close to one another.

All of the buildings shared the same Gothic architecture with the stone walls and high, pointy towers.

I wondered if Rapunzel was locked up in one of those dark towers. One thing was for sure—there was a lot of secrets hidden in this place and I wanted to find them all out.

Locking my car doors quickly, I ran towards the office building, hoping that I wouldn't twist my ankle in the process. I was really that uncoordinated. I was the kind of girl that could trip over nothing and then trip while getting up.

I pushed my way past the glass doors, slowing my pace once I stepped foot inside of the place. Running in the hallways was a complete no-no— even I knew that. I didn't want to make them hate me before I even got the chance to be interviewed.

Stepping inside, I was bombarded with the smell of cigarette smoke and what smelled like marijuana.

Is someone blazing up? It's not even 4/20 yet!

I stepped towards the front desk apprehensively, scrunching my nose up at the strange scent. I wondered if this is what Wiz Khalifa smelled like...

A girl with caramel colored hair sat in a leather seat, typing away at an Apple computer. Her lips were coated in a thick coat of matte red lipstick. I envied the color because it really brought out the green in her eyes. The green in my eyes only liked to come out when the sun did.

Before I even got the chance to say a word, she looked up to me and said, "Lilith James?"

I was waiting for her to say some shít like; Mr. Grey will see you now.

"Yeah." I mumbled, wondering how she knew it was me from the get go. "That's me."

"I'm Margo!" She extended her hand and even her nails were painted red. This girl had good taste. "We've been expecting you."

"What do you mean by we?" I raised my eyebrows. Was I going to be interviewed by two people? The thought of two people judging me at the same time made my stomach churn.

"Elliot Wolfe— the son of the man who built Salem's Court." She offered me a polite smile that seemed to lack emotion. "He's going to be the one interviewing you this morning."

You don't say?

"Wait—" I pursed my lips together, feeling uneasiness wash over me. "I thought you were going to be the one interviewing me. You're the one who sent me the information."

"I just organize the interviews and set them up." Her smile didn't waver one bit. "Elliot makes the final choice in all of the decisions. His father put him in charge for a reason."

"How old is Elliot?" I blurted out on accident. I needed to learn to keep my pie hole shut especially when there was actual pie in front of my face. My thighs hated me for always having a sweet tooth.

"He just turned twenty at the beginning of this month." She bit down on her bottom lip, like she was uncomfortable talking about it. "Don't let his age fool you. He's very experienced."

It seemed like she was talking about more than his business experience, but I didn't make the mistake of asking. Being too curious can get you in a world of hurt. I mean, curiosity killed the cat for a reason.

"You can take the elevator up to the sixth floor." She pointed to a couple of silver doors that had wolves emblems carved into them. "His office is the only room there. You won't be able to miss it."

"You're not coming with me?" I looked back at her with hopeful eyes. I really didn't want to do this alone. It felt like I was about to make a deal with the devil.

"He doesn't bite... that hard!" She offered me an awry smile. "He likes redheads, so you're already off to a great start!"

There was a sarcastic tone to her voice and I stifled a laugh. That's something Elisa would've said. Thinking about that made my nerves calm down a little bit.

I wasn't sure why I was so nervous to begin with. He was just going to ask me some basic questions and all I had to do was reply with some basic answers... or so I thought.

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Margo was right. There was only one room on the sixth floor and it was locked shut. Whoever was inside, they didn't want anyone getting in, which made me even more anxious.

Maybe this place is a torture factory for axe-murderers and people who like to tickle other people. Yes, being ticked is freaking torture!

I kept looking down at the watch across my wrist, awaiting the moment the sleek door wound fling open. It didn't open at nine and it didn't open at nine thirty. It didn't even open at ten. With my back rested against the wall, I was beginning to wonder if there was even anyone inside of that room.

Maybe Elliot Wolfe was running late, or maybe he needed punched in the face for making someone wait. It was so unprofessional.

Just as I was about to leave, the door opened slowly, revealing a girl with long blonde hair.

Elliot Wolfe is a girl?

She carried a jacket in front of her, but you could see the back of her dress riding up, showing the bottom of her silky black underwear. It was like the dress had just been tossed over her body and it probably had.

Her cheeks reddened when she saw me standing there. It was like she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her eyes stayed on me as if she were frozen in place. She didn't move an inch.

"Why haven't you left yet?" A deep, baritone voice said from behind her. The huskiness of the voice shattered the silence, causing goose bumps to rise on skin. The man had a foreign accent and it was deep— like the shít I was getting myself into. Was it too late to turn around and head home? You betcha! "I told you to skit-skit skedaddle, so why the fück are you still standing here?"

The blonde girl turned around quickly to be greeted by a man with disheveled black hair and bright blue eyes that were framed in thick, sooty eyelashes. Damn. His looks about knocked me on my flat áss. He was a looker that's for sure.

His jawline was rigid and sculpted while his cheekbones were high and noticeable. There was a lightness in his eyes, but they held no emotion. His glare was icy and undying.

The man was shirtless, making it possible for me to see the rifts and ridges of his abdomen muscles. They looked like they were cut from marble. So toned and so tight. My eyes glanced down further, until I saw his dark happy trail start. It ended at the hem of his black boxers that were sticking out underneath his jeans.

"So, this is what God looks like?" I thought to myself, urging myself to look away, but it was easier said than done.

He looked like a freaking angel and he was my future boss! You know, if I got the job, which probably wasn't going to happen. Most prospective employees don't meet their employer when they're half naked. This had to be the worst way to make a first impression.

"There's this girl standing here—" The blonde began to explain, but he put his fingers to her mouth, literally telling her to shush.

"Do you not see me standing here looking right at her?" The man growled, seeming exasperated. "You don't have to play the fücking narrator! Now, go! Don't make me tell you again. I hate repeating myself."

"Okay, babe." The girl muttered underneath her breath. She didn't seem surprised by the man's sudden anger, but it was rattling me to my core. I wondered what she did to piss him off so much. "I'll call you later tonight."

"Don't... just don't." He groaned, crossing his arms. "Talking to you isn't worth adding money to my phone bill. It's called a hit it and quit it for a reason. I know you're not the brightest, but the definition is literally in the name, puttana."

Her mouth hit the floor while my cheeks reddened with embarrassment. He wasn't even talking to me and I felt a little piece of me die inside.

The girl didn't say another word to him. She just ran down the hall, like a little kid running away from someone who had cooties.

"See something you like?" His smoldering gaze moved to me, reminding me that my eyes were still on his muscular chest. "Or do you just have a staring problem?"

I didn't even get the chance to come up with a good comeback before he sauntered back off into his office, leaving the door wide open.

I was just about to follow him in there; when I stopped underneath the threshold. There was something dark about this room and this man. Something told me to turn away; but there was also something telling me to stay.

"Are you going to come into my lair, fiorella?" His husky voice echoed through the room. "Or do you want me to drag you in here? I'm game. I mean, we're already off to such a rough start. We might as well have some fun before you leave."

This was literally turning into an interview from hell.

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