Thread: A Devil's Game ::: {Ariamella & Prince of Smut}

RE A Devil's Game Ariamella Prince Oh wow, this was not George. George had always looked strangely out of place in his own office, almost as if he was uncomfortable sitting at his own desk. Whenever Macy would report to him on behalf of Heidi, she would notice how disorganized everything was, how he was always fiddling with the odd knickknacks on his desk and never really getting comfortable. It was so different from the man who sat in front of her, exuding a masculine mix of urbane sophistication and toned physique that looked far too young to be sitting in a CEO's chair. But here he was, smiling up at her while her full, glossed lips parted in a soft 'o' motion as she stared at him, obviously dumbfounded by his very presence. Sit, he commanded, and as if pulled out of a trance, the girl smoothly moved to take a seat in front of him, pulling out the black chair and crossing her long legs when she daintily sat down. As distracted as she had been, anything a superior said was still an order, and years of serious work had trained her ears to listen for the firm tone of someone who wanted something done. Her head rushed with a myriad of emotions as he told her about George's fate, but the one that stood out the most was a highly satisfying and overwhelming sense of contempt for the newly fired ex-CEO of Brandon-Demmings. Contempt for his actions, contempt for the way he had run his company, and contempt for every single woman he ever fucked during his time in this room. She sat a little straighter in her chair, the sight of her nude Louboutins and the smell of her Hermes perfume only adding to the air of accomplishment she blanketed herself with. They were finally gone, and she could tell that this man-- Damien Van Horne-- would be the driven CEO this company needed. A part of her was enthralled by how he carried himself as he rounded the dark desk, only to hold himself above her when he comfortable settled on the edge, which forced her to move her gaze upwards just to keep eye contact with his ridiculous sunglasses. It was undoubtedly supposed to be a subtle show of his corporate power and confidence, the way he seemed to stare at her from under the glasses. Her skin tingled with an odd sensation that made her want to clutch the coat tighter across her body-- perhaps he thought her outfit was too daring to be worn around his company? But the man opened the conversation again by praising her, and she couldn't help the hint of a smile that turned up one side of her lips. And then there was the part of her that entertained the thought of him looking like a total douche, and that train of thought was only solidified when he started talking about beauty and using his native tongue in his speech. The sunglasses had already been a reminder of her college days when she couldn't go to any party without running into one of the shirtless dicks who thought it was cool to wear sunglasses indoors. In fact, that's exactly what Damien reminded her of. He was like some frat daddy who decided he was too grown for partying and instead found his way into the corporate world. There were many things she wanted to say, all of which were shut down when he criticized her decision on maintaining that intelligence always trumped looks. Most women, even those as old as Heidi would've fluttered if a man like Damien called them a natural beauty, but to Macy it was a hollow compliment used to butter her up for his pointed critique. Well, it didn't work and her lips pursed slightly as her eyes glazed into cool orbs that attempted to hide any sort of reaction. If that's what he wanted by taking to her pride, he sure as hell wasn't getting it. But... there was the nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her he was only saying truths, and she had to accept it no matter how much she disagreed. If playing the game meant updating her style then so be it, but she would not, for any reason, play the game of 'pretend stripper' that other female workers had. It wasn't until he mentioned the promotion that her eyes returned to a sparkling hazel, widening slightly at the offer. Macy chose her next words carefully, attempting to pass of her excitement as nonchalance, almost as if she had expected this to happen whenever George was fired. Thank you for this opportunity, Damien, and I'm glad you still considered me for the position despite my past... failures. Ugh, the word was already hard to say and the fact that it was in reference to her appearance made things all the more difficult. I don't have any questions at this time, only my gratitude. Yes, I have questions. Why are you still wearing those douchey sunglasses? No one cares if they're Prada! And Jesus Christ, will you sit the fuck down in your chair? You're head honcho, I got it. I have to admit that I don't have much experience in that particular field of writing, but I'm a quick study and I'm sure the addition to Couture will be highly beneficial. Out of all the damn sections to be appointed to, Damien had to assign her to one she thought was absolute trash. Not that it was wrong to embrace female sexuality, but it seemed like such a superficial thing to write about. Each article was either implanting hope for thousands of desperate singles or telling couples everything they knew about sex was wrong and that there were really only 'ten amazing secrets to pleasing your partner!' But she would take what she could get. After all, this was only the beginning of what seemed to be her budding career. Once again, thank you. I think I should go make sure none of my belongings get left behind at Heidi's office. A tight, professional smile that didn't quite reach her eyes positioned itself on her face, and Macy pretended to flick a piece of lint off her pants leg, impatiently waiting for her dismissal from Damien's office.