The Descent Into Hell Is Easy

Chapter Three - Fatal Attraction

I cheated myself
Like I knew I would
I told you I was trouble
You know that I'm no good.

~ Amy Winehouse

{Clary}

The next morning goes about as smoothly as I expect it to. I stub my toe getting out of bed. I accidentally scatter my sketches across my living-room trying to organise them into my folder and my hair... was not playing by the rules. When I turn up at Jaces apartment building, armed with three extra strong coffees and my sketches tucked into my messenger bag, I stroll into the entryway and offer Martin, who looks like he hasn't moved from behind his desk all night, what I hope is a convincing smile.

"Morning Martin, this is for you." His eyes widen as I set the cup holder on his desk and slip one cup from it, holding it out to him.
"Miss Fairchild, you didn't have to do that." By his tone, the sparkle in his brown eyes, it's clear I've surprised him. I whip some cream and sugar packets from my pocket and set them down on the desk too.

"I wanted to, I was getting myself one anyway." I lightly wiggle the cup at him, lifting the cup holder in my other hand with the two remaining in it. His eyes linger on both of them for a second too long before a smile breaks out across his face.

"It is greatly appreciated, thank you." He takes it from me and raises it in a small toast
"Mr. Herondale is expecting you, do you remember which floor it is?" Jace. Right. I tug on the edge of my t-shirt.
"Floor 26, apartment 2B. I remember Martin, thank you." I nod and move towards the elevators, looking over my shoulder at him.

"Have a great morning!" I hear the older man chuckle at me affectionately from his desk
"And you Miss Fairchild, and you."
I'm smiling when I set into the empty elevator but the second the doors close behind me and I catch my reflection in the shining, polished chrome my stomach drops.

I certainly didn't look like I belonged in this building today in my paint splattered t-shirt and yoga pants. I was dressed for practicality and comfort today.

The doors ping open and I find myself at the end of the hallway outside his door. There's music playing this time, faintly due to the apartments thick walls and I knock hoping that he hears me over it. I only have to wait a couple of minutes before he answers it. The large windows in his living-room let an explosion of early morning sunshine into his apartment which results in him standing in a golden beacon of light.

His tanned skin looks warmer and smoother in the light of day and his messy blonde hair shines like it's been freshly washed that morning and lights up his face like a halo. I think that this man, this stranger couldn't get any more attractive until he takes me in, in my completely ordinary clothing and hair in the messiest of messy buns and smiles like I'm a sight for sore eyes.

It's no ordinary smile either, nothing about him, I'm quickly learning, is at all ordinary. It transforms him like he doesn't hand them out all that often and makes me feel lucky to have been deemed worthy, even for a moment of something rare. This guy was trouble. I didn't wax poetic about men usually but I couldn't quite concentrate when I was looking directly at him. This was going to be an issue.

"Clary," he says, gently and on a breath as if he's been holding it in since I left. His eyes become impossibly brighter
"Morning beautiful, come in." Beautiful? He moves to the side and it's the first I'm made aware that I've just been standing here gazing at him like an idiot.

I need to get a grip of myself. I'm a grown woman, this is embarrassing. Yes, he was gorgeous. Yes, he smelled absolutely delicious but I wasn't going there. Nope. Not at all. If anything, he was the type of guy I usually avoided at all costs. Despite appearances, there was something dark about him that I hadn't been able to put my finger on. But I could feel it. And those instincts were usually right.