His gaze drifted briefly over the dress I was wearing now, as if he could still see me in another one, before returning to my face.
“The same dress you wore when you came to the club that first night,” he said, and I nodded.
“Yeah. That one.”
“I always wondered about the dress,” he continued thoughtfully, his voice calm rather than accusatory. I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me.
“Yeah, not exactly office chic.”
His expression softened slightly, his attention resting on me with patience that made the next part easier to say.
“But at the time it was the only option I had,” I continued, smoothing my fingers absently down the skirt.
“Little did I know that all it would take was running my hands over the fabric in the office bathroom and suddenly I’d be summoning a demon.”
His eyes flickered faintly with interest.
“Not exactly your typical workday,” he said, making me scoff in agreement.
“No, definitely not.” I shook my head slightly, still half-amazed by the absurdity of it.
“The dress was covered in symbols, demonic ones, I guess. Either way, they worked like some sort of calling card for Bo.”
Oblivion’s gaze lowered briefly to the hem of the skirt as if imagining the symbols stitched there.
“One minute I’m panicking about a very important meeting with a certain billionaire with a diamond company… one that shall remain unnamed, of course,” I said, pausing to give him a smirk, and receiving a grin in return.
“Of course.”
“And the next minute I’m standing there in the bathroom staring at Bo while we’re both equally confused about how he got there.”
“I can imagine the shock,” he said gently.
“Shock doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I admitted, and for a moment, the memory made me shake my head again. Although, oddly, the more I spoke, the lighter it felt. Like saying it out loud somehow made the chaos of that day easier to carry.
“And that’s how you ended up at the club,” he said, prompting me to say more, although how much more I would say depended on what he asked next. Which was why I went with a simple repeated agreement.
“That’s how I ended up at the club.”
I shifted slightly where I sat, aware of his attention but oddly less tense beneath it now.
“Now the question remains, how exactly did you end up at my club?”
“Erh… taxi,” I said, though the look he gave me, soft and faintly amused, told me that wasn’t what he meant, and that he knew I knew it.
“I heard your name mentioned somewhere, and before you say anything, no, I’m not telling you by who,” I added quickly. His lips curved faintly, though thankfully, he didn’t press the point. So, I went on to explain,
“I thought you might be able to help.”
“I would have helped you,” he said quietly.
“Had you remained in my office as I asked.”
I released another sigh, this time after running a hand down my face and second-guessing myself. Asking how differently this would have played out had I remained in his office like he had wanted me to. Had I not decided to save Bo from being sent back to Hell, would I be here now? Would I have been asked to do that meeting before being asked to lead the campaign? One that just seemed like a farce now.
In the end, I admitted,
“I panicked.”
