Wicked Game (8 page)

             
There was the click of disconnection as the phone was hung up and then the constant tone of a dead line. Hazelle swallowed anxiously and put the receiver down, trying to keep her face as impassive as she could, to hide any hint of that hot, sickly panic that was squirming in her stomach and the tears she longed to cry.

             
Sophie was frowning. 

             
“Isn't Chris your ex?” she asked doubtfully. Hazelle had mentioned him once in passing, though she hadn't gone into any detail. The past wasn't something she liked to think about, let alone talk about.

             
Hazelle licked her dry lips, determined to keep her voice steady and indifferent.

             
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

             
“What did he want?”

             
“It doesn't matter.”

             
Hazelle turned and walked away from the desk, keeping her back straight, her head held high, resisting the natural urge to retreat into herself. She could hear Mr Thompson talking loudly on the phone in his office and the humming of a photocopier. Hazelle avoided everyone’s eyes, not wanting to talk to anyone right now, except perhaps Kaden, who she had no choice but to talk to, and the sooner the better.

             
She visited the staff bathroom on the floor below, locking herself in the cubical at the end, away from prying eyes, allowing herself to shudder with intense dislike. The tears wouldn't come now that she was alone and free to cry, instead she breathed heavily in distress, sickness swelling in her stomach as all her negative feelings about the world, about Chris, about herself, as everything she had tried so hard to repress came roaring back with a vengeance, making it hard to simply stand.

             
No, she wouldn't do this, not again. Those demons she had dealt with...or so she had believed. She had a new demon in her life and she had tried hard to move on, she'd changed jobs, moved house, gone to private counselling and gotten her life back in order as best she could. She couldn't regress to that frightened, timid, tormented little mouse that jumped at every phone call, every shadow, every breath, hoping and praying that it wasn't Chris.

             
The next time he contacted her she would have to be firm and to the point, leaving no room for argument and giving him nothing he could use against her. She wasn't going to let herself be blackmailed or bullied ever again.

             
Feeling more refreshed and encouraged with that in mind Hazelle made her way back to reception and set about her work, ignoring the worried glances Sophie gave her. Work was a good distraction from both Kaden and Chris, and before she knew it it was lunchtime. Feeling peckish she decided to go down to the cafeteria and pick up a sandwich, leaving Sophie to man the phones. She returned presently with her favourite, a chicken and mayo salad sub, but when she saw something sitting on the reception desk at her station, her heart gave a horrible lurch and she almost dropped her sandwich and purse.

             
“They're for you,” Sophie muttered, twisting her engagement ring awkwardly around her finger, “Brought by courier. There was no card but they gave your name.”

             
Hazelle approached the desk, reaching out tentatively to touch the silky petals of a tulip. She'd never been given flowers before, a romantic gesture that most women longed for and welcomed, yet here she was with an expensive, beautiful bouquet of yellow tulips, pink roses and white lilies, and all she wanted to do was throw them at the wall and stamp on them until her feet bled.

             
“I hope those aren't from Chris,” Sophie's voice was sympathetic as she touched Hazelle's shoulder gently.

             
Hazelle tensed and then noticed something odd, a shimmer of purple, a raven feather tucked in-between the flowers. She stroked the feather and gave a quiet laugh, muscles relaxing, a sweet sensation spreading through her stomach and dispelling the sickness.

             
“No,” she whispered in awe, utterly astonished and deeply touched, “These aren't from Chris. They are from someone else.”

             
How had Kaden been able to afford such a grand gesture? Where did he get his money from? She blanched at the thought of him robbing some poor, innocent old lady down an alley before remembering that he was magic, conjured by magic, practically made of the stuff, and the raven feather was a nod towards his origins, a pun, part of the spell that had lured him into the human realm and brought him into her life. With a blatant message like that, meant only for her comprehension, there was no need for a calling card.

             
Her heart felt lighter after that, almost as light as a feather, and she was convinced Kaden have forgiven her for their spat, that he would be waiting for at home, like the dutiful demon she had never believed him to be. That turned out to be true, though he wasn't sauntering sexily around the house, half-naked and trying to tempt her into bed, as she had anticipated. Instead he stood in the lounge, his back and shoulders straight and stiff, dressed an immaculate grey suit, his shoes shiny, his hair tamed and combed back, styled to show his fascinating face to perfection. She paused in the doorway, keys still in hand, gawking at him, awestruck.

             
He didn't just look good he smelt good too, the spicy, exotic, erotic scent of him exuding from his skin in delectable waves, his masculine musk enveloping the room, dominating the house, marking his territory. He didn't need any aftershave, his natural scent was designed to allure his prey, to make women weak at the knees, to make them powerless to his sensuous attack on all the senses. She felt an undeniable twinge, somewhere deep down below, and blushed scarlet.

             
“Why are you dressed like that?” she demanded, her voice hoarse with repressed desire.

             
He didn't answer, looking uncomfortable. Whether it was because of the suit of the situation she didn't know.

             
Her mother walked into the lounge from the kitchen. She was dressed in peach silk, her long, dark hair braided and diamond earrings twinkling in her ears. She was no doubt dressed for her date with Mr Thompson, but why was Kaden dressed like he had a date too?

             
“I thought as you didn't have a date and Kaden was here you might like to join David and I,” Mom explained, smiling, “Like a double date. Won't that be fun?”

             
Hazelle could think of deadly diseases less dangerous and more fun, or maybe dodging traffic on the free-way. She stared at her mother, aghast. She often interfered in Hazelle's social life, particularly her love life, or rather lack of one, though she had never done anything so audacious as to actually arrange a date for her. She'd even dressed the man because Hazelle hadn't bought him a suit, believing he wouldn't be around long enough to need one. It appeared he'd been here longer than he'd expected too, and she could usually tell behind his indifferent façade that he was irritated by that fact.

             
But he didn't look annoyed now. He wasn't even sulking. He looked slightly embarrassed, as if he wasn't used to so much attention. She assumed that in his line of work he didn't have many daughters introducing him to their moms. Demons didn't normally make such a decent impression, and were certainly not candidates for a boyfriend or future husband.

             
“Don't just stand there gawping,” Mom scolded Hazelle, flapping her hands at her, “Go and get changed. David booked the table for seven.”

             
Hazelle turned quickly and ran upstairs, heart pounding like a drum, palms sweaty. Thankfully Kaden didn't follow. She could hear mom talking downstairs, telling him about Hazelle's childhood, showing him trophies, and medals and baby pictures.               Hazelle cringed. Kaden wouldn't care about her past; he was only concerned with her present and getting into her pants.

             
She showered, shaved her legs and debated between dresses, unsure of which one was more appropriate. She gave an exasperated sigh, knowing she was useless at this. It was a long time since she'd had a date, or anything resembling one, and she didn't have the company of men or any close female friends to ask for advice. She glanced nervously at a dress she had bought under peer pressure during her first year of college, a slim, black figure hugging number that would show daring amounts of her flesh, maybe more than she could bear. She'd shoved the dress in the wardrobe and never inflicted such a sight upon the world but what did she have to lose? At least it might discourage Kaden from trying to coax her into bed and she might be able to retain her dignity for a little longer.

             
Nodding bracing to herself, she slipped the dress on, found a strappy pair of black heels, applied her make-up heavier than usual and left her hair down. She picked up the black sequin clutch bag, stocked with cellphone, ID, lipstick and emergency cash, should she need to make a quick exit, before she took a deep breath and turned to face the full length mirror.

             
The dress was surprisingly flattering, black material clinging to her curves and giving the illusion that she actually had a figure, enhancing her cleavage, bringing her in at the waist, the heels making her legs look slimmer and longer. She'd never be as sophisticated as her mom, or as cute as Sophie, but all in all it could have been much worse. She shrugged on a jacket and walked carefully down the stairs, taking her time, not accustomed to such high heels, trying not to trip and humiliate herself.

             
Kaden was there, stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching her slow descent, his onyx eyes following her every shaky step. She tugged the dress down bashfully and looked into this eyes, finding the pupils stretching uncommonly, inhumanly wide, like super-massive black holes, ones she could fall into if she wasn't careful.

             
“Doesn't she look beautiful?” Mom cooed, as if Hazelle were a toddler flaunting her Sunday best dress. Mom looked to Kaden for confirmation.

             
  Kaden nodded once, his face inscrutable. Where was his usual dark disdain, his  snide remarks and crude comments? Something in him must have changed during their time apart, which she still hadn't had chance to interrogate him about. That could wait till later. She'd left the flowers at work, not wanting to invite unwelcome questions from her mother, who would have undoubtedly made a big deal of it. Apparently she didn't need flowers as in an incentive to interfere in the affairs of her daughter and the demon she had invoked.

             
A horn beeped outside.

             
“That will be David,” Mom informed them, opening the front door and holding it for them.

             
Hazelle stumbled, unsteady without the bannister to rely on, dreading having to walk to the car unaided when a warm hand slipped into hers, supporting her. She smiled shyly up at Kaden, still dwarfed by his height even with the heels. His mouth was a straight, unrelenting line, his eyes glittering black with distrust. She hadn't anticipated him being so chivalrous and, from his reaction, he usually didn't believe himself to be. Chivalry was for brave knights, not for the dragons they slew.

             
David's car was parked on the curb, a shiny, snazzy car that Hazelle couldn't identify but she knew it would have cost more money than she made in a year. David was leant against it, his arms folded across his chest. When he saw them approaching he straightened his tie and opened the passenger door for Hazelle's mother.

             
“Nice to meet you, Mrs Bryce.”

             
“Call me Clarissa,” she insisted, flashing that effortless smile that enchanted any man above thirty in a heartbeat. The trick seemed to have skipped a generation, as far as Hazelle was concerned.

             
“Clarissa.”

             
She slid gratefully into the seat and he shut the door behind her.

             
“Hello Hazelle,” he greeted her politely, “I hope you don't mind. It was your mother's idea.”

             
Hazelle forced herself to smile, trying to hide her fear and doubt.

             
“It's okay, Mr Thompson,” Hazelle lied, getting better at it every time,“Really.”

             
“Please, tonight I am not your boss. Call me David.”

             
“Thank you, David.”

             
“And this must be Kaden.” David held his hand out to the demon. “Nice to meet you.”

             
Kaden took his hand without a word. Hazelle realised that despite his forays with the women that summoned him he wasn't much of a people person.

             
David drove them to the restaurant. It was overlooking the park in a swanky part of town, popular for its boutiques, bistros and beauty spots along the river. Hazelle and her mom rarely had the spare funds to dine here, and if they did it was only on very special occasions.