✶ ☾ ✶

Delilah

Delilah's heart dropped as she approached her new workspace, still reeling from her morning disaster. A dark, coffee-colored blotch on her blouse screamed at her with every stride. She caught a glimpse of Mr. King next to the security guard, his shirt still glistening from her clumsiness.

When she saw herself in the mirror, her cheeks changed to the color of a tomato in a blender.

At that moment, a piercing voice cut through the air. "Nice outfit, Delilah," She Devil snorted, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Looks like someone needs to watch where they're going next time."

Delilah bit her lip, feeling the weight of the morning's misfortunes pressing down on her as she prepared for the inevitable taunts from her new manager.

She Devil. It was just the right nickname for the woman.

She stood under the bright, fluorescent light of the basement as Rita's sharp gaze seemed to cut right through her. Each time Delilah entered the room, the lady snarled as if she were an unwelcome draft.

"You need to start paying more attention," Rita murmured, making her feel like a tiny ant beneath a magnifying glass, small and humiliated as she returned to her desk.

The air was filled with an unspoken tension, and Rita's ignored greetings felt like little pricks, a playful reminder of the quiet conflict that began when she and Delilah crossed each other like two unsuspecting bumper cars. Delilah soon learned that the woman considered her just another fault in her perfect line of outstanding workers.

Delilah seldom met anybody who disliked her, even if she wasn't close to everyone. No one had teased her like this. Her life had always been full of smiles and pleasant words, but this company provided a stark contrast, presenting a more complex reality.

She tapped her toes on the top of her cool, damp heel to warm them. As the sun reached its peak, Delilah scanned her surroundings, but Aiden remained elusive, a ghost in the midday light.

She glanced toward his office, pulse racing at the notion of apologizing again. Her thoughts had calmed, enabling her to recollect their first encounter outside of the cemetery. With a deep breath, Delilah envisioned his laughter returning and his eyes sparkling when he smiled at her. Perhaps if she were a witch, she could heal their rift and perform a spell.

Delilah sighed, her fingertips caressing her cup of cinnamon, the warm fragrance filling her nose. A sliver of doubt crossed her mind, but she ignored it, choosing to deny her intuition about who Aiden King may be.

The sensuous fantasy of her ripping into his button-up shirt remained in her head. Buttons scattered across the floor as her fingers brushed against the firm surface of his undershirt. The steaming liquid from her cup cascaded down, saturating the smooth fabric and producing a dark mark that marred the beauty underneath.

Her erotic daydream shattered when a deluge of files rained down on her desk, causing her to gasp in shock.

What an effective way to get through the day!

Her gaze rose, and there stood Rita, towering over her. The woman peered over her horn-rimmed glasses, eyes narrowing as they locked onto her target. Her sharp features stood out more in the tight bun of her blonde hair.

Rita said, "Make copies of these and laminate them."

Delilah slipped her foot into the shoe; the slick rubber fit her arch as she adjusted the fit. It was better to suffer the discomfort of a wet shoe than to face She Devil's wrath.

"You remember where the copy room is, don't you?" Rita pressed on, her voice steady and unwavering.

Delilah smiled, her posture straightening as she willed herself to project confidence, despite her annoyance. "Of course. It's on the first floor," she remarked, pointing to the elevators with a nod. "I'm on it."

"Good, because we can't afford any laziness around here," Rita huffed, her foot tapping. "Clock's ticking."

Delilah's fingers slid over the array of files Rita had organized, her grasp strong and definite as she walked toward the hallway. A gentle squish beneath her feet with every careful step hinted that something was not quite right. Her soft footsteps on the shiny tiles created a soothing rhythm as she rode the elevator to the first floor.

The gentle hum of the copy machine soothed her as she rounded the corner. Her heart slowed as she looked down the silent hallway before leaning against the cool wall.

"I can handle She Devil," she told herself. "The pay is reasonable, and I can work indoors. I can see a path leading to a more promising position here." Delilah stood tall in the mirror, inhaled, and mumbled positive affirmations as her worries faded and her determination increased. "Travis Tucker isn't prowling about, and the weight of my parents' marital pressure has vanished. Stay strong."

As she followed the margins of the documents, her gaze focused on each line. On her first day, her manager showed growing animosity by criticizing her. But Delilah knew she needed to show Rita that her efforts were worthwhile.

She checked each page for accuracy as she gathered, printed, and laminated them. This was one of those moments she had to keep going, holding onto hope to get through the day. With half of the files done, Delilah continued down the corridor, her footsteps reverberating as she followed the familiar but uncertain route.

Silence hovered in the halls, broken only by the occasional appearance of art and antique merchants sent to acquire the items they had ordered. The company built its reputation on curating unique antiques, which attracted the attention of rich collectors looking to add to their collectibles.

Her thoughts drifted to Mr. King, his smile imprinted in her mind like sunlight piercing through a winter fog. A soothing warmth flowed down her spine, a lovely contrast to the chill of his earlier, unfriendly gaze. His gaze fired something deep inside her, and her heart raced as she rounded a tight curve. In an instant, she hit a muscular wall, jolting her back to reality.

Her hands slipped, and the objects in her grasp fell to the floor like startled leaves in a breeze.

Delilah strained hard to regain her balance, furious when the heel of her soaked shoe crumbled. Her mother always warned her, with a smile in her eye, that her wild imagination may get her into trouble.

She winced and sighed as she removed her shoe. Delilah groaned as agony raced through her ankle after the contact.

She paused, the world around her fading into silence, feeling the reassuring grip of strong arms supporting her as she balanced on one foot. Her eyes went up.

An inch away, dark, menacing eyes gazed at her. Her eyes searched Aiden's face, but all she found was worry etched in every line. Perhaps even yearning? A similar flush of desire washed over her again.

"I'm a recipe for disaster," she whispered, her gaze shifting away as if the weight of her words was too much to handle. Her cheeks flushed with warmth. "Sorry, sir."

A long pause followed as Aiden's eyes stayed on hers. His face looked like it had been through a tough workout, with hard lines and a jaw so strong and chiseled it could cut through steel─if only it had a sense of humor.

Delilah's heart raced as she inhaled his warm scent, her gaze tracing the way his smile transformed his face. Standing so close, she knew he was the man of her dreams.

"Well, Ms. Fox, it seems you have a knack for bumping into me," he said, his voice a rich, velvety rumble. "Should we swap insurance policies?" A subtle smile graced the corner of his lips.

Delilah laughed at his statement, her eyes sparkling with delight and uncertainty as she considered its brilliance. As she searched her thoughts for clarity, she shook her head and frowned. She noticed his white button-up shirt hanging like it was on vacation, revealing his silky undershirt. Water droplets trickled down his neck and shoulders, his hair streaming backward like a river in motion.

She couldn't shake the image out of her mind of him under the shower, water pouring down like a waterfall, glistening on his perfect physique as it trickled away. Aiden's cheeks turned bright red, a blush spreading across his face, like he had just caught a peek into her mind.

"You changed clothes," she said with a sense of astonishment.

"I did. Meeting my guests in stained clothes would leave a less than favorable impression, wouldn't it?"

Delilah's tongue flicked out. Her cheeks flushed, a wave of color sweeping across her face as the words tumbled out. "You have to look your best!" she exclaimed, and the words she had just spoken hit her hard. "I mean, you smelled amazing and looked stunning earlier. And now..." She stopped and looked around the room, briefly holding her breath. "Perhaps it's time for me to hold my tongue."

"Please, keep talking, Delilah. I like hearing your voice."

Her words floated through the air, a soothing whisper that engulfed her like a warm embrace. "Um. Okay?"

Her cheeks warmed, and heat radiated from her skin as more words flowed out, refusing to let her go with dignity. A deep, low moan seemed to reverberate, echoing through her flesh and beneath her fingertips. A shudder went through her, hardening her nipples.

Christ on a cracker, his charm keeps me in. I must control myself.

"Aiden, the clients are in the conference room."

A voice broke the silence, making her jump. She'd almost forgotten she was working for him. She wasn't at a fancy club with Mr. King. She decided it was the perfect time to express her charming side at the workplace.

Her gaze moved to another tall, dark figure, radiating charm like a chocolate fountain at a party─delightful, irresistible, and a bit messy. The newcomer came with confidence, his well-trimmed beard emphasizing his features and his light brown hair sparkling in the light. His hazel eyes watched her movements with a playful curiosity. A curious sensation came over her as she contemplated the possibilities of this organization employing attractive men. Perhaps she had truly encountered a fortunate turn of events. No Travis Tucker imitators in sight.

Aiden took a step back and gave a slight nod to the gentleman who had entered the hallway. "Thank you, Roman. Make sure their items are ready."

"Will do," Roman replied.

Delilah knelt, quickly grabbing the laminated papers and holding them to her chest. She lifted her eyes to connect with Mr. King, feeling like a little bird attempting to comprehend a large giraffe.

Aiden's dark eyes remained fixed on her, a hint of something indescribable sparkling in their depths. Did her mind drift through ripples of fantasies about him again? For someone unaccustomed to social interactions, bumping into this man three times within a week felt like a series of comical accidents.

"Listen, Ms. Fox. Everyone walks fast on this floor. If possible, try to avoid any accidents." His voice had dropped an octave when he looked around. "I'm not sure what your shoe preferences are, but the ladies here like flat shoes. Apply ice on your ankle when you go back to your desk. I have to go now."

Aiden then disappeared around a corner, leaving her in shock. As she reflected on the nuanced shifts in their interactions, Delilah realized that she wasn't the only one finding it challenging to understand every facet of their exchanges. His voice remained steady, every soft syllable tinged with true compassion.

Could this be a secret playbook for the Colorado elite? She found herself in a familiar dilemma, caught between Aiden's earnest expression and the mischievous sparkle in his gaze. Was he trying to charm her with his suave remarks, or was he offering her some guidance?

Her head moved from side to side. Their paths have crossed three times already. She tried to focus on something else while her thoughts kept going back to him. A spark of affection lit up her chest. Aiden may have been attempting to play the sympathetic Samaritan, but her imagination wandered into the realm of spicy interpretations of his motivations.

Delilah squatted on the hard, cold floor, rummaging through the scattered papers like a small girl seeking to complete a jigsaw puzzle. With a deep sigh, her lips curved as she flipped across each page, searching for the missing page numbers in the empty corners. Frustration festered inside her─the disordered chaos mirrored her tumultuous thoughts.

She huffed and dashed to the copy room with the disheveled bundle. While she hurried past the rows of gray cubicles, a flash of white caught her eye─there it was, the emergency exit door. A wave of relief washed over her, causing her to halt momentarily, her eyes flickering. The break room was just beyond that door, where the machines hummed with promise.

Delilah slipped the documents into the copy machine tray, her fingers sliding over the keyboard as she punched each button with care. The machine hummed as the crisp paper slipped into the slot.

She gritted her teeth at her ankle as the copies proceeded. Her heart pounded, confirming Aiden's prediction. Icing was the most effective method to relieve the discomfort. It was almost comical, considering she'd devoted the whole day to pampering her toes at work.

"Oh, Lord, please tell me there is still some coffee left!"

She flinched when a dark-haired woman walked into the breakroom, her pointed heels resonating on the tile floor while she approached the coffee machine. Delilah's gaze stayed on the other woman, captivated by every detail. Her slender strands formed a delicate braid that contrasted with Rita's tight style.

With each gentle swing, the woman's white skirt glistened under the light, and her cream blouse billowed in graceful response. The outfit accentuated her physique well.

Delilah gazed at the look she admired, a blend of elegance and confidence, yet a shadow of doubt lingered. She let out a sigh and looked down at her feet, weighing the burden of her perceived shortcomings. A whisper of Aiden's words persisted in her head, tempting her to give up the heels for something easier, something less demanding.

"That stupid cunt! She does this crap on purpose!" the tall lady shouted, eyes gleaming, nose up. She faced Delilah, her head dipping. She then lifted the lid of the coffee container in the machine, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. "How can Rita live with herself, always prioritizing her needs?"

Delilah glanced around the room, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, weighing the tension in the air against her desire to stay. Her nerves tensed as she evaluated her next move around the brunette's commanding presence. Facing Rita's insults was like confronting a charging bull, and her unfinished work was as appealing as a five-day old pizza.

This brunette put a cup under the spout and pushed the start button, watching the coffee brew and fill the room with its pleasant smell. In an instant, her expression shifted. As she breathed, a gentle wave washed over her, bringing her a sense of calm.

Her lips curved upward as she glanced at Delilah. "So, you're the newbie who has Ms. Brenda singing your praises?"

"Yes. I'm Delilah. Brenda brought me on board."

When the woman lifted her cup, the machine hissed, breaking the room's stillness. She swirled the cream into the boiling cup, dissolving the sugar crystals as she brought it to her lips and inhaled the rich scent before sipping.

She sighed and looked at Delilah again. "I apologize for my overreaction. Rita will be the death of me. The snob and I have never gotten along." With a gentle smile, she extended her hand, introducing herself. "I'm Phoebe Velasquez. I work in accounting on the twentieth floor."

"Hello. Great to meet you!" Delilah grinned, her eyes glowing with joy.

"So, if you work for Brenda, are you with RightRecruit in the dungeon?" Phoebe asked, keeping her gaze fixed on Delilah.

"Yes. Rita assigned me to make copies and laminate these papers."

Phoebe rolled her eyes at the paperwork. "The woman has a way of sizing up every new recruit that comes through the door. Since she already has so many copies of the same papers, she will just toss these in the trash. That's how she inspires everyone to get involved in productive tasks, giving her the chance to gossip about them while they are busy."

Delilah's brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her frustration simmered as she stared at the pile of unfinished work, each paper a reminder of the effort she poured in without reward.

Phoebe beamed, her eyes twinkling with playful energy. "Rita will lighten up at some point," she said with a cheerful tone. "Just keep in mind that she might not be very friendly at first. For two years, I've watched her. She insists she can't keep my hazelnut creamer in stock, yet every time I come in, there it is─the last box, just out of reach. I made it a point to bring my own."

Phoebe's emotional state upon entering the room bolstered Delilah's composure, and she hesitated to laugh. Delilah discovered that the woman had a fondness for coffee. "I like cinnamon lattes," she said. "She Devil can't play games with me."

Delilah felt a surge of warmth as Phoebe, for the first time, shined like sunlight. "I think we will become great friends." She clutched her drink. "Have you ever come across the saying, 'Pretend you're on top of the world until you are?' Just keep your nose held up high, and things will start falling into place for you," she added with a gentle smile. "Delilah Fox, I'll see you on the other side. Give it your all and make the most of your time here."

"That's some good advice, Phoebe. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," Phoebe responded with a smile.

Not long into their conversation, Delilah dove headfirst into work, a barrage of unresolved questions racing through her mind.

✶ ☾ ✶