Page 5 of Love Potions and Paperwork

The watch on my wrist beeped and I jumped, Miss Randall would be here any minute and I hadn’t evenchecked my emails yet. I quickly replaced the vacuum and freed the larger of the two cups from the tray, setting it on a coaster before collecting the cardboard and returning to my desk. I freed my coffee, tossing the tray into the small recycling bin beside my desk. I landed in my squashy desk chair hard enough to roll the wheels, my monitor glowing to life with the clack of keys. A few more clicks and I was cringing at the 57 unread emails since I left the office at nearly midnight the day before.

Like the rattle of a diamondback, the telltaleclick, click, clickof stilettos against the marble tile warned that a predator approached. I jumped up from my chair, moving to stand beside my desk. Across from me, Diane winked an amber eye, a folio tucked into their arms.

I bit back a smile, my antenna twitching as the glass doors to the lobby opened, Miss Randall breezing through the space. She removed a long houndstooth coat and handed it to me along with a ridiculous kelly green handbag that Diane eyed like a precious jewel every time it was brought into the office.

Her blouse was tucked into a tight pencil skirt that showed off her full curves, the bottoms of her stilettos lacquered a matching shade of cherry red to her mouth. Miss Randall’s dark hair had been clipped into an angular bob that framed the soft planes of her face since I’d seen her last. Gone were the long waves she had sported for the last few months I’d been in her employ. The new look was severe. Intimidating. The tips of her triangular ears, positioned on the top of her head like a cat’s—the only inclination other than her tail that she was something inhuman. A succubus on her great, great, great grandmother’s side, if the tabloids were to be believed.

I’d never met a single succubus as temperamental as my boss, but maybe some guys were into that.

“Good morning, Miss Randall.” I fought the urge to smooth my shirt.

I still had a nervous tick from my first day when I showed up with a wrinkle in my button down. Maeve wasscarybefore her coffee.

The tiny woman’s lips twisted in disgust as she brushed past my desk, hardly sparing me a glance. “Your tie is crooked, Eugine.”

“S-s-sorry, ma’am!” I made a valiant effort to right it as best as I could, looking at the offending garment upside down. Before this job, I’d only worn a tie once—to a wedding—when I was ten.

Miss Randall made an exasperated noise and crossed the smooth tile towards me, the sound of her heels against the marble the only warning I had before we were practically nose to nose. I met her kohl-rimmed eyes, narrowed with irritation.

She reached out a finely manicured hand and slapped my fingers away before righting the tie herself, tightening it to the point of cutting off my airflow.

My heart beat harder as she smoothed the tie down my front, the tips of her ears twitching at my strangled gasp.

“Figure it out, Eugine. How am I supposed to trust you if you can’t even get this right, hm? Honestly, it’sbasic.”

“Yes, Miss Randall.” I licked my lips as she studied my face.

What in the world was she thinking? I’d watched her dismiss more staff in a week than my entire professional life before working here. Why keep me around?

“Is there a reason you’re still standing there staring at me? Don’t you have work to do?”

“I—I—”Fucksakes. “Of course not, I—Please excuse me, ma’am.” I backed up quickly, banging into the corner ofthe desk hard enough to bruise my ass. I all but threw myself into my chair, hiding my wince behind my monitor.

When I peeked around the screen, chancing another look at her from behind it was to find her tail swaying with irritation. She settled into her chair, that perfect manicure tapping along the dark wood of her desk. Her green eyes met mine flatly, ears pulling back down against her head and I returned my gaze to my computer, clicking through my emails.

It was going to be a very,very, long day.

Two

Maeve

Whoever created high heels was a fucking sadist.

My arches were already killing me from the needle-thin stilettos that I’d managed to strut into the office wearing. It was a miracle I didn’t fall flat on my face, but years of practice had trained the wobble out of my ankles, even if my toes and heels would be bleeding when I finally managed to limp home at the end of the day.

I tipped myself into my chair—my range of motion limited in a stupidly tight leather pencil skirt—and crossed my ankles under the desk. The only relief I’d get from the red-bottomed death traps was sitting back all the way in the seat. My legs were so short that my feet couldn’t quite touch the floor, taking the pressure off the balls of my feet.

What Ireallywanted was to kick the stupid things off under the desk. But it simply wouldn’t do forMaeve Randall, Editor-in-Chief ofSirento admit that she hated stupid pinchy—fabulous—shoes as much as the next Sally or Susie.

Not while I was pushing seventy-five in fashion years.

In reality, I was only thirty-eight. But in the eyes of thebeauty world where young wasalwayson trend—I might as well have retired. Ordied.

So, stupid, pinchy shoes it was. And a bra that was as uncomfortable as it was fashionable. Even thoughno onewas going to see it. Not since my boyfriend and I broke up.Again.

I swear to god, I went through men faster thanHarpy Healthwent through fad diets. It was just… A lot of pressure. My job wasn’t all parties, models, and fabulous clothes. It was a fuckton of hard work, boring meetings and incompetent staff that were delusional enough to think that they could do my job. And men? Men hatedallof that. The late nights. Gorgeous colleagues. Being Mr. Maeve Randall. It was too much for them.

I reached across the desk and swiped the framed photograph of me and my most recent mistake into the bin.

---