CHAPTER 3
Emma
Iwalked away from where the overly-handsome orc had stopped to talk to Lin.
You’re such an idiot, Emma.
Of course he hadn’t been interested in me. Lin was a tall, statuesque beauty who would be the perfect match for someone like him. I’d thought on more than one occasion that she was wasted working at the Magickal Bureau when she should have been gracing the pages of magazines.
If the assholes weren’t speciesist against avians.
It was truly unfair that most clothes and fashion was aimed toward humans, who were the majority species. And most other human-like species took the forefront for modelling.
“There’s no place on any billboard for feathers,” Lin had once laughed, much more accepting of the deficiency than I would have been in her place.
And while I understood that the male would have definitely been looking at Lin the entire time, a little pang of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy filled my heart.
Which I had no right to feel. I was not going to be jealous of my friend—the only one I’d made in the Bureau since I started a year ago.
I wheeled the cart that I was pushing around the corner, back toward where Lin was, and froze in my tracks. The male was still there. He was scribbling on a notepad while my friend spoke to him and I frowned.
Is he interviewing her or something?
More likely, he was writing down all the ways he could contact her for a date. Pushing down the nagging sadness and traces of envy that were bubbling up inside of me, I rolled my cart toward the service elevator, refusing to look at them again.
I’d catch up with Lin another time, and I might even be able to work up the courage to ask her if she’d accepted a date with the big, handsome male.
The churning in my gut told me that it wasn’t likely I’d be able to, but as the doors to the elevator slid open and I rolled the cart inside, I promised myself that I would at least try.
Lin was an amazing female and she deserved a better friend than someone who wished they could be dating the male who had caught her eye.
I looked up from where the doors were closing and was startled to see that while Lin was still talking to the male, he had stopped scribbling and was staring straight at me instead.
I turned, pressing my back against the reflective wall, my heart thundering in my chest. He had no right—no right—to be looking at me while talking to my friend. Especially not the way he had. With a focused intensity that was the exact opposite of uninterested.
My breath escaped me in a slight wheeze as I remembered how those eyes had tracked me across the room. I shook my head, trying to remind myself that I was likely never going to see him again, so I had nothing to worry about.
I was still pressed against the wall when the doors slid open again and one of the males from the accounting department came through.
He froze, seeing me pressed up against the wall, trying to be invisible, and I cleared my throat, sending a winning smile his way as I wheeled the cart out of the elevator.
The fake smile remained on my face until I turned the corner and a breath whooshed out of me. I pressed hard against where my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. Why the hell was I feeling this way about a random male that I hadn’t even met?
Shaking my head and trying to get myself to focus, I wheeled the cart around another corner, making my way over to where the cubicles on the floor started. I cringed as I peeked over the tops, noticing that the office in the back corner was occupied.
Maybe he doesn’t have anything that needs to go to him.
Telling myself not to worry, I fanned through the mail, dread filled me as I saw the name scrawled across one of the envelopes.
Shit.
James Berard was the type of male that made you want to crawl out of your skin when you were in his presence. It was in the way that he spoke only to my breasts—and in the way that he found reasons to touch me no matter what I did to avoid it.
I’d become suspicious about the envelopes that always made their way into the mail room and needed to be delivered to his office.
It was always the same handwriting and it was always when I was scheduled.
It wouldn’t be hard for him to get someone to mail him an empty envelope whenever I was around.
If only I had the guts to break the seal and check.
If I didn’t need the job so badly, I would have ripped the envelope to shreds in front of his stupid, smug face and killed him with a million papercuts.
But I did need the job, and I didn’t have the kind of patience that was needed to deliver a million papercuts.
So I released a deep sigh and pushed the cart through the cubicles, delivering mail as I went.
As far as part-time jobs went, this one was great. I liked working in the Bureau and seeing all the amazing things that they could do. They helped Magickal beings and creatures of every kind and I got to be a part of it—if only a small one.
This part though, I could do without.
The thought filled my mind as I wheeled the cart into Berard’s office and he leaned back in his huge leather chair, a smug smile spreading across his face. While the rest of the Bureau was sleek and modern, he’d filled this office with dark woods and leather.
His desk was a huge conquistador-style desk that I just knew would be a bitch to clean.
It was covered in little grooves and patterns that were neatly carved into the solid wood.
It would have been a bitch to get inside as well, since most of the doorways couldn’t accommodate something so large.
I was fairly certain the size of the desk was compensation for other places that were probably seriously lacking in his anatomy.
And the same went for the giant desk hutch that he had on the wall to the right. I was almost certain that his desk was supposed to be in front of it, because that was the layout of most of the other offices.
The occupants enjoyed looking out the massive windows. Instead, Berard had situated himself right in front of it, as if he was the most important thing to look at and he didn’t want the view to distract anyone from his presence. Anyone looking out the window was forced to look at him.
I hope you get gonorrhea.
Instead of saying that, I pasted a polite smile on my face and moved toward his desk with the envelope in hand. I wanted to toss it at him and get the hell out of there, but he was just the kind of prick who would report me for that kind of behavior.
“Good morning Mr. Berard,” I said to him, aiming for absolutely no tone at all. I didn’t want to sound like the way I felt—like I wanted to chop off his balls in his sleep and then rescue his poor wife from being subjected to him on a daily basis—but I also didn’t want to sound friendly.
I’d found out early on that friendly never went well when it came to Berard.
“Well, hello there, Emma,” he said, drawling my name as if he had some kind of right to it.
His wedding band gleamed on his left hand as he gripped the back of his chair.
There were pictures of his children lined up neatly on his desk, but his lascivious smile would have you believe he had neither a wife nor children.
A married male shouldn’t be giving that smarmy smile to another woman. “It’s been a while.”
He stood, and I cringed, making my way to his desk. Cursing under my breath, I got to the desk just as he moved around it, grabbing my wrist and pulling me closer. “Stay a while. I have a great scotch that I got from a golfing buddy of mine,” he said, leaning back against the desk.
His fingers were a shackle around my wrist and if I didn’t desperately need this job, I would have broken his fucking nose with one of the left hooks my grandma had taught me once I’d sprouted boobs.
We were ladies, but ladies who knew how to defend themselves.
I forced another smile, trying to free my wrist, twisting it almost painfully, but he didn’t release me.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t drink,” I told him, not completely lying. I couldn’t afford to drink even if I wanted to. Every extra penny went toward payments. And even if I could find something that didn’t taste terrible, I wasn’t going to drink it with him.
“Well I wouldn’t either if I was you, there’s nothing but trash in most bars,” he scoffed, a scowl spreading across his face as he shook his head with an air of superiority.
“Not where most of those males you date take you anyway,” he added, searching my face for some sign—any sign that what he was saying was true.
I hadn’t discussed my love life with him ever, and I had no intention to. I just stared at him, aiming for a blank expression. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes and continued.
“But this is a thirty-year-old bottle that’s smooth as silk,” he boasted, and I knew that my smile was more of a grimace now.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, my jaw so tight from having to apologize to this dickhead that I wondered if I would crack a tooth. “But as I mentioned, I don’t drink.”
His eyes were becoming stormy as his temper flared, and this was what I was worried about.
He was clearly a male who was used to getting his way and when it came to me, he didn’t.
I wasn’t sure about his history, but based on the whispers about the turnover rate for his assistants—who he always personally hired and they were always females—I had no hope that he had a clean record of giving in when a female said no.
“Well if you don’t want a drink, Emma, then I can’t force you,” he said, his words crisp and annoyed, but he kept that smarmy smile on his face that always gave me goosebumps.
Something is terribly wrong with him, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Not that I wanted my fingers anywhere near him. I twisted my wrist again, and I saw his eyes flicker down to where he held me, grim satisfaction curling his lips before he released me. I refused to rub my wrist in front of him, but it twinged with pain.
“Sorry about that,” he said with no remorse at all. “Females are so fragile. Sometimes I forget my own strength.”
I had to force my mouth to stop from not shifting to a scowl. Keeping that cool, calm smile on, I nodded and turned to walk away.
“I’ll see you next time,” he told me, his words holding a promise that I wished weren’t true. I would be seeing him next time, which I hated.
If I could afford to lose this job—because I had no doubt he or one of his many cronies would find a way to fire me—I would complain to HR.
Every other section of the Bureau was amazing and took their policies seriously.
It seemed to only be under this asshole’s section that everyone thought that rules were merely suggestions that could be ignored.
I gave a cheerful wave to the nice lakhey—a cheerful, protective breed of demon with red skin— who worked on the ninth floor.
He had always been kind to me and his astute eyes followed me before flicking to the door I’d just left.
It strangely made me feel better to know he was out here while I’d been stuck inside with that asshole.
I made my way to the elevator. If I could spend the rest of the day without any more annoying males, I’d be set. I ignored the twinge inside of me as I remembered the handsome face of the orc who’d been flirting with Lin, lifting my chin and pretending that I didn’t care.