How to Kill an Incubus: A Rae Erickson Story (38 page)

“Andrei?” My voice was hesitant, barely a whisper. It was a voice full of hope, hope that would never recover if it was dashed.

The man stepped over the threshold, ducking slightly, until he was in the foyer. He kicked the door closed behind him with a booted foot. I was stunned into silence. Even with him looking like this, I knew. I knew it was him.

“Rainelle,” he said quietly, my name sounding strange on this stranger’s lips. Except he wasn’t a stranger. He was mine. He was here.

The gun fell to the ground, the clang of metal against linoleum doing little to drag our eyes from each other. Those eyes, they were the same. Penetrating. Stormy. Beautiful.

Tears pooled in my eyes. Furious, I chased them away with the back of my hand. There were so many things I wanted to say but they could wait. Just knowing that he managed to get away from Teddy was enough. I made my way to him, ready to throw my arms around him and welcome him back.

But his next words stopped me.

“I just need you to fuck this better,” he flatly stated as he pointed at his disfigured face, “And then I’ll be on my way.”

~to be continued~

LOOK OUT FOR BOOK #2:

HOW TO RAISE AN INCUBUS

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Prologue

He was tall.

At about six-one, he towered over my five-four height and made me feel shorter than I usually did.

I watched as yet another female walked out of his office, looking flustered and flushed with embarrassment as she readjusted her business skirt.

“Ms. Johnson?” An old lady wearing a pink plaid jacket called out, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she scanned the waiting area.

I stood up at the sound of my name and greeted her with a nervous nod and a smile that probably turned out more like a grimace.

“This way please,” the lady said, escorting me into the office that nine other girls had previously entered – and exited - before me.

I clutched tightly at the folder containing my carefully listed skills and qualifications. I had worked all week to perfect it, just for a chance at this job.

“Thank you,” I muttered. She gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before exiting the room quietly and shutting the door behind her with a soft ‘thud.’

I let out a nervous sigh before turning around to meet the man I’d only ever seen on billboards, the internet and magazines. It was the first time I would see him in person.

“Name,” he stated, a deep British accent lacing the singular, blunt word.

I cleared my throat and wiped my sweaty palms on my grey pencil skirt. “Hello,” I said, “My name is Emily Johnson.” I smiled nervously at the authority figure seated on a large leather chair behind a dark, polished marble desk so large it almost took up the entire length of the office.

He didn’t glance in my direction as I walked forward and placed my resume on his desk with shaky hands.

“Take a seat,” he muttered, still staring intently at his computer screen.

I nodded, even though I knew he wasn’t going to be paying attention to the gesture. “Thank you.” I took a seat in one of the navy coloured leather chairs that were placed in front of his desk, and gripped the arm of the chair with such force that I watched my knuckles turn white.

A few silent moments passed before his hazel green eyes flickered in my direction briefly, and then did a double take.

I felt my eyes widen slightly and I visibly swallowed from nervousness. Was I not wearing the correct clothing? Did he recognise me from somewhere? The nerves creating the knot in my stomach became stronger, and I felt the knot begin to expand.

“Ms. Johnson, was it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as his gaze slowly scanned my attire before coming back to meet my eyes.

I gulped and nodded, causing him to smirk and get out of his seat.

“I- I have a resume…” My voice trailed off, the thought continued only by the finger I pointed toward the folder I had so painstakingly spent hours on. He wasn’t paying attention to that. Instead, he walked over to where I was sitting until he stood directly in front of me.

“Get up.” His tone was commanding, and I felt my body jerk out of the seat before my brain could process what was happening.

Looking at him in closer now, I saw that the magazines and pictures I had seen him in did
not
do him justice.

Who was
he
, exactly? He was Adrian Kingston, the 25-year-old-billionare-playboy who owns Kingston Corp. His father spent 23 years building the company, which now includes over 350 hotels and offices in New York City alone. I knew this because I had done my research before arriving for this job interview – to become his assistant in the Head Office of the Cooperation.

He suddenly moved closer, so close, that I could smell the mixture of cologne and aftershave he was wearing and was able to identify dimple marks in his cheeks while he smirked down at me. From this distance, it was also hard to miss the thick lashes that surrounded his eyes.

“What do you think of me, Ms. Johnson?” he asked, snaking an arm around my waist and pulling me toward his solid torso.

My eyes widened in shock and I felt my cheeks begin to turn scarlet. “I-,” I stuttered, “I don’t really know you well enough to answer that, s-sir.” I inched my face back to put some distance between our proximity.

Adrian ignored my attempt to move away and leaned in so that his lips were near my ear. “Do I make you feel nervous?” he whispered, nibbling at my earlobe as I felt my throat go dry.

“I wouldn’t say you; t- the job is what I’m nervous about. If you would look at my resume-”

His lips moved down so that he was trailing light kisses onto my collarbone. “If I don’t make you nervous, do I turn you on?” he asked in a hoarse voice, pressing our bodies closer to each other than before.

“I-” I cleared my throat and frowned slightly, “I don’t think what you’re asking is in context as to what this interview is about. My resume-”

“Why look at a piece of paper when I have a beautiful woman standing right here?” he smirked. “You have a nice ass, by the way.” I felt one of his hands slowly slide down from my waist to my rear and give it a rough squeeze.

I gasped and jumped in his hold, before pulling away in frustration. “Excuse me, Mr. Kingston. I am here solely to achieve my goal of getting this job. I don’t know what
you’re
trying to do – and quite frankly, I don’t like it either. You’re rude and disrespectful. Now, if you don’t want to look over my credentials and qualifications”–I snatched the resume that I had spent hours putting together off his desk–“then my business here is done. Thank you for your time.”

I glared and turned to leave but then remembered something else I wanted to say. I stopped in my tracks and turned back to face him. “Oh, and you want to know what I think of you now? I think you’re a spoiled little rich sleaze who thinks he can have everyone he encounters, eating out of the palm of his hand.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder and stormed out of the office without glancing back.

So that’s why all the girls that got interviewed walked out flustered,
I thought to myself as I walked past the remaining applicants. Good luck to them. Seriously.

“Uh, excuse me! Ms. Johnson!” The old lady who had escorted me into Mr. Kingston’s office shouted just as I reached the halfway point down the hall.

“Yes?” I replied, looking back in confusion. Had I forgotten something? I mentally scanned my bag. Everything was there…

“Mr. Kingston wanted me to inform you that you have gotten the job. You start as of right now, and your first task is to get rid of all the remaining applicants. Welcome to the team.” She gave me a sympathetic smile before shuffling back down the hall way and disappearing into a room on her right.

I stood in shock for a few moments, processing the news the lady had just revealed. I got the job?
Me?
The one who snapped at him and called him a spoiled little rich boy? How does that even work?

Unsure about what just happened and how I felt about it all, I decided to shake off my shock and try to complete the first task given me by the unpredictable man who was apparently my new boss. Get rid of the rest of the applicants. I scoffed internally.
Of course he’d make his newly hired assistant do his dirty work.

I walked back to the group of girls who were giggling amongst themselves. They stopped abruptly when they noticed me smiling nervously in their direction.

“I thought you were already rejected by him,” a red head sneered. “Back for more? Talk about desperate.” The others laughed.

I tried to keep the urge to glare buried deep within me. My nerves have now been replaced by anger. “Actually, I was just told that I was hired,” I told them with a sarcastic smile. “My first job is to get rid of you lot. Maybe you can come back later for more? Oh wait – the job is already taken. Sorry. Have a good day.”

“Yeah right,” the red head scoffed. “We saw how you left his office. He didn’t hire you. You’re just trying to get rid of the competition because you’re too intimidated by us.” She rolled her eyes and settled in her seat smugly, looking at the other girls.

I sighed and rubbed my temple. “Yes. I’m so intimidated by you all. How will I ever survive knowing you’re all out there, being the perfect little bitches you’re all being right now?” I pretended to fake sob, before my face turned blank again. “Now, on behalf of Mr. Kingston, please leave, or I will call security to escort you lovely ladies out.”             

I didn’t even know if the building had security, let alone the number to call.

The 5 pairs of eyes glared up at me, and I felt as if I was shrinking under their gaze. The red head spoke again. “You’re pathetic. We’re all smart enough to know that you’re lying. Adrian wouldn’t hire someone like
you.
You’re too short and
way
too curvy. He’d want someone slim and petite, not to mention someone who actually has a pretty face.” Her gaze focused on the thick black rims that surrounded the lenses that helped me read clearer, and I felt my temper slowly taking over the rational side of me. I was about to burst when a deep voice kept it from happening.

“Ladies.”

Adrian’s voice came from behind me. I caught the smell of his cologne before I felt two large hands being placed on my shoulders.

“What Ms. Johnson is saying is correct,” he told them. “She has officially been hired by me. Thank you for coming in today, but you are not needed anymore. Leave, or I
will
call security to drag you out.”

The 5 girls were frozen with shock, but the red haired girl recovered quickly. “But Adrian, surely we’re more qualified-”

“I have personally looked over Ms. Johnson’s qualifications and found her to be the perfect candidate. This discussion is over. Have a nice day.” He dismissed them coolly, before I felt his warm breath on my neck. “Come into my office once they leave so I can brief you on your role as my assistant.”

I nodded stiffly, conscious of the proximity between our bodies.

“Don’t worry, I won’t try anything.” He chuckled softly. “Even though I want to.”

He pulled away and I turned to catch his smirk just before it slipped off his face and he turned to leave.

I turned back to the girls – who were looking at me as if they were measuring what coffin would fit me best – and gave them a small smile. “Thank you for your time,” I repeated, stepping aside as an indication for them to leave.

“This isn’t over, you obese pig,” the red head sneered before shoving her handbag up her slender arm and stomping past me. “I’ll get you fired within the next month. This job is
mine.
” The other girls followed after her.

I looked down at my body and sighed. Yes, I was pretty large in the chest and rear area, but I was pretty slim everywhere else. I went for regular jogs in a park nearby and ate clean once a week. I shook my self-esteem issues out of my mind temporarily, and entered Adrian’s office after a heavy sigh.

“I’m going to be very quick with this because I have a meeting in 10 minutes,” he said, even before I closed the door. “You are to learn my daily schedule by heart. From the time I open my eyes in bed ‘till the time I shut them. You are to know what coffee I drink and have it at my desk by 8:55AM every day. I only like it made by a certain barista at a specific Starbucks four blocks from here. You are to know what size I am in everything – including underwear – and keep a spare item of clothing on you at all times in case something goes wrong. You only get a half hour lunch break but will get a full hour on Saturdays.” As he spoke he was shuffling though a stack of papers on his desk. When he finished, he handed them all to me.

“You are also responsible for any irrelevant paperwork that comes through to me. This,” he pointed at the paper on top of the pile, “is my planner. You are responsible for organising it fortnightly and bringing it to my apartment every Sunday evening. You can email it to me as well but I prefer to have the original copy in case I decide to make any adjustments. Your working hours are 8:30AM until 6:00PM, but there will be
alot
of evenings where you and I will stay back late in the office to manage larger projects. Mrs. Brown, the lady who escorted you here, will show you where your new desk is located. You answer your phone at all times and only refer the important ones back to me. Mrs. Brown will give you a list of who to let through. The line for my office is the number one on speed dial on your phone. Any questions?”