Chapter 2 #2
“Enough!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with you?”
“Many things, Mistress. Want me to show you?” he asked in an obnoxiously suggestive fashion.
“GAH!” I growled in aggravation before stomping off to my workshop.
His smug chuckle followed me until I slammed the door behind me. I stood looking at all the work that awaited me and had been derailed by this day’s entire mess. I groaned inwardly, feeling overwhelmed. I was so close to finishing, yet still so far away.
Launching my miniature and furniture store had been a lifelong dream of mine.
I was only a couple of weeks away from the grand opening.
I deliberately scheduled it to fall only a couple of days after the massive miniatures fair which would take place next week.
I hoped to get a ton of exposure as an exhibitor over there.
Hopefully, I’d make enough sales to bring in a substantial cash influx that would help tide me over during the first few months as I established my business.
As always, I had been too ambitious. My crazy imagination was my eternal downfall.
The entire collection revolved around the fair’s “Haunted Victorian Era” theme.
I had created multiple miniature mansions, businesses, streets, parks, and even a fairground.
Each building or outdoor space was divided into rooms or areas that conveyed part of the story of the haunting.
The wide table at the back overflowed with individual props people could buy to populate or decorate their own miniature worlds, ranging from tiny Victorian furniture to characters with era-appropriate garbs and hairdos, pets, carriages, plants, and everything else in-between.
Many of these items were initially meant to be a part of my other creations but ended up not truly fitting.
But my main creations—and what I intended to build my business around—were standard size furniture with embedded miniatures.
After all, bookshelves weren’t the only ones who deserved elevating with book nook inserts.
My showstopper was my coffee table with an alchemist’s laboratory built inside.
The thick glass top allowed us to enjoy the highly detailed beauty of the room, with interactive elements like electric lights and tesla coils.
I had designed the table in a way that you could change the built-in miniature to a different theme, like a library, a mysterious alley, etc.
For the fair, the second built-in option was a haunted Victorian street.
Today’s events completely derailed my plans.
Fetching Angie’s stuff wasted my entire morning.
Now, I was dealing with a freaking demon instead of ordering the missing material and getting back to work to complete my collection in time.
With my ADHD, I couldn’t even decide what I should prioritize first.
I hated the thought of Vazul leering at Angie in any way. That he might look at her naked body the way he had done with mine just whipped my blood into a primal rage. What the fuck was wrong with me? Was he using some sort of power on me to make me want him?
I peered at my laptop sitting on my desk.
Without giving it a second thought, I headed straight for it, plopped my butt on my chair, and tried to do some research on his demonic breed.
To my dismay, nothing popped up that matched the name both Vazul and Sophia had stated for his species.
I tried different spellings for leedurts, leedirts, leederts, and even iterations with a single ‘e’ in the first syllable, to no avail.
And if I searched for sex demons, every single result would speak of an incubus, a succubus, or the human-demon hybrid offspring called a cambion.
Maybe I should try to call Angie again.
The instant ick and nearly possessive anger that thought triggered within me took me aback.
There was no question Angie would be all over him the minute she found out the egg hatched.
She just liked hoarding things and slapping a stamp of ownership on anything even remotely unique, so that she could flaunt how she had things no one else did.
But it was an even more irrational emotion that prompted such a strong response from me.
Before I could spiral into that bottomless pit of indecisiveness that would keep me paralyzed, the door opened, startling me. Totally unfazed, as if he’d just barged into his own office, Vazul started sweeping the floor. He had gone back to his default demonic appearance.
I glared at him, my conflicting emotions too rattled for me to sort them out.
“Okay, you really need clothes,” I grumbled.
He paused his sweeping to look at me, then spread his arms wide before glancing down at himself.
“And ruin this awesome view?” he asked.
I scrunched my face. “Egotistical much?”
He shrugged. “Not ego, more like confidence rooted in facts.”
I rolled my eyes, looking for a sharp comeback to take him down a peg or two. However, seeing him glance at my miniatures collection then wrinkling his nose in an unimpressed fashion instantly had my back stiffen.
“Ugh! Such a dreadful execution of a brilliant idea,” he mused aloud.
“Wow! Why don’t you just come out and say how you really feel?” I exclaimed, deeply wounded.
“I just did,” he replied in a factual manner, giving me a baffled look as if he was questioning my intelligence.
I poured my heart and soul into this project. Claiming that I had shed blood, sweat, and tears over this would not be a cliche or understatement. To have it so brutally trashed was devastating.
“Well that was unbelievably rude and hurtful,” I said in a clipped tone, floored that he should be so oblivious.
He tilted his head to the side, confused. “You want me to lie?”
I gaped at him. Was he truly this obtuse or just a douchebag?
“Get out,” I snapped.
“I haven’t cleaned—”
“GET OUT!” I shouted, pointing angrily at the door.
He made a face as if I was the most illogical creature he’d ever encountered, huffed, then exited the room. I slumped against the backrest of my chair and heaved a sigh, defeated.