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

RE A Devil's Game Ariamella Prince Balthazar watched Macy deliberate with breathless anticipation. He inhaled sharply when her fingers recoiled from the pen, as if burned, and then exhaled slowly when she finally grabbed the heavy stylus and began to write in the ancient Book. The old man could almost feel the emotions roiling within her, but in the end her burning ambition and pride had overwhelmed the lingering trepidation and skepticism she had for his proposal. And then she was done, her signature being placed with steely resolve. A passing cloud made the room darken slightly and Balthazar shuddered as if chilled. He reached one claw like hand up to touch his chest, long fingers finding the amulet hidden beneath his shirt. If she could see it now, the crystal would be glittering with a strange blue light. Her soul was his for the keeping until the bargain was fulfilled. She was his. Mon ange, tres bien, you will not be disappointed, replied Balthazar as he reverently took the book from Macy and closed it with great care. He sniffed slightly when she mentioned 50 Shades of Grey and continued, If for some reason you aren't happy, return at any time and I'll gladly give you any copies of that trash I might mistakenly still own. But for now, fare well and good luck. May all your dreams come true. -------- The news spread through Brandon-Demmings like a mysterious, hot wind might herald a surprise changing of the seasons after months of dreary cold. The rumors blew through the kitchens, water coolers, meeting rooms, hallways and lounges, stirring up salacious stories and bringing to light previously hushed and taboo takes about the former CEO. The office was suddenly alive and buzzing, meetings cancelled and daily tasks forgotten as employees gathered in groups large and small just to gossip. George had been fired by the board last night. Rumor had it there was a sex video involved, or multiple with different women, including scenes of the married and now disgraced man fucking the girl who was to be his new assistant in his office, among other places! A new CEO had been brought onboard already, some German exec who ran a big publishing house in Europe. His name was on the tip of everyone's tongue... I saw him in the lobby this morning... blonde and very sexy! No, he smiled at me in the kitchen, dark haired... but yes, very hot! I heard he was a real bastard at his old shop, firing people on the spot when they fucked up. Good, we need that here... George would just fuck the fuck-ups and promote them, if they had tits! Rumor has it Andrea is being canned as well, although she's at her old desk crying. What about all the other girls he's fucked? I hear they are on the video as well... Yes I think his name was Dennis... no Daniel? I don't think that was it... maybe Derek? wait... no... Damien! Damien... Van Horne! Damien Van Horne was leaning back in his chair with a grin on his face, shoes kicked up and resting on the desk that was now his. His eyes were closed beneath the Prada sunglasses he wore despite being indoors and he was listening to, more feeling perhaps, the murmur of excitement and schadenfreude that seemed to fill the building. All these mortals were so easily manipulated and fooled, it took nothing more than the misery of others, particularly those above them, to fill them with glee. Already the supplications were beginning by executives eager to meet their new boss and begin what would be a prolonged period of jockeying for power, currying favor, and sycophantic ass kissing. But for now, at least, the new CEO was content to soak in the hum of dark and selfish emotion that the bomb blast of George's sex scandal had created. Damien was a tall man, easily over six foot, but he seemed to loom in some strange fashion over everyone that met him, regardless of their height. Dressed in an expensive, black Armani suit , a crisp white shirt paired with a black tie, and black Gucci loafers , he looked the part of a wealthy and stylish European executive to the tee. Damien truly enjoyed the Italian designers he would get to wear for this role and was pleased at the thought that his wardrobe was going to be yet another perk of his latest contract. It was always nice when his work aligned with his own personal indulgences, which seemed to so rarely happen these days. In the past, he'd had business dealings with all of the famous designers he now wore, to varying degrees, and while they might not be enjoying their afterlife now, perhaps they still had some small solace in the fact that he'd been true to his end of the bargain and made sure the legend of their craftsmanship would endure for centuries. For Damien, of course, was a demon. Getting mortals to give up their eternal soul in return for power, glory and fame during their lifetime was his line of work. And he was quite good at it, at least he thought so. Balthazar was one of his guises, but he had many skins he could slip into as needed. This contract, with the haughty and prideful Macy Hill, was going to be a very fun assignment and Macy herself was going to be a more succulent perk than even his Italian wardrobe. With a grin at that thought, Damien removed his feet from the heavy, dark wood desk and sat up to inspect his computer screen. His jet black hair was cut to medium length, but styled up in a slightly spiky fashion. The face beneath was chiseled and angular, handsome by any definition, but with a certain edge to it that made him appear intimidating, particularly when he wasn't smiling. The eyes beneath the sunglasses were his trademark coal black orbs with flecks of violet shimmering in the irises. They were a giveaway and he'd keep them covered until he was ready to reveal himself fully to Macy. And that moment of revelation should be very soon. Damien typed a quick message to the temporary assistant who was helping him this morning. He'd given instructions to send a car to Macy's apartment in the morning with a message that the CEO wanted to make up for yesterday by sending her to the spa for a full morning of treatments and a complete make-over. There was also a bonus of a company paid shopping spree with a personal shopper that had been given very explicit instructions on how to improve Macy's sense of style. Damien would, of course, supplement the girl's wardrobe over the next couple days with more interesting outfits, but she'd at least be wearing something professional that still showed her figure off when she arrived around lunchtime. Make sure Macy comes to my office directly when she arrives. I don't want her chatting with others, Damien wrote to his assistant. And get a desk ready in the editor's floor for her. Have Heidi fire someone if there isn't a good one available. Damien sat back again and thrummed his fingers on the desk as he studied the CEO's office he had inherited. George had decent taste, with a nice mix of modern furniture made of dark wood and polished metal, but the artwork and accents were all wrong. Damien had taken a small step to address that with a painting he had hung on a side wall, currently covered with a black cloth. At least the spacious room had a nice, full size black leather couch with matching arm chairs. George had no doubt found that couch very useful and Damien looked forward to putting it to the test as well. The only negative was the massive, floor to ceiling glass wall on two sides that fronted an expanse of low cubicles. Damien wanted a little more privacy, at least in the beginning, but he had been relieved to discover the glass could be dimmed electronically to full opacity with a touch of a switch. All in all, the room would work just fine for his needs. Now, he just needed his new customer to arrive.