Your Star (Vox x reader)

16

Weeks had passed since the business event Vox invited me to. Ever since then, I've been tormented by my thoughtless actions. Rather than taking a risk for freedom, I warned Vox of the poisoned cigarette. I blame the decision on my morals, yet either way, I knew a death would be in my hands, therefore, my logic behind choosing Vox, the man who owns my soul, must've been nonexistent. There's a large, gaping hole in my brain that should've been filled with the reason for my logic, however, that reason remains absent. 

Despite my internal turmoil, everything regarding my two jobs has been going smoothly. I'm catching up on sleep for the first time in months, and money is no longer a concern. To add to my luck, Vox seems to be going somewhat easier on me. Whether it was Velvette's scolding or him finally coming to his senses, I sure as hell won't complain. Thankfully, going through emails is no longer a task of mine, but Vox was quick to come up with something else.

One final drop of liquid falls into the pool of coffee, and I switch off the machine before picking up the warm mug. Taking a glance down, I notice the words, Fuck Alastor, and roll my eyes. Vox never fails to find new ways to baffle me. One would claim his antics are childish. I would definitely not oppose those claims.

I walk to his office, well aware of where it is by now, careful not to spill any of the coffee. When I reach his door, I turn the knob and push it open, not bothering to knock. I glare at Vox through half-lidded eyes, noticing his legs propped up on the desk. His eyes lazily drift from his phone up to me, and he grins. "That was quick," he snickers.

"I'm not your coffee lackey. I didn't sell my soul to press beans," my harsh words are spoken flatly.

"Aww, but you're so good at it!" He remarks with a laugh, placing his phone down on the desk.

 I let out a light sigh, closing the door and approaching him. "Can't you get one of the interns to do it?"

"I could, but where's the fun in that?" He swings his feet to the floor, watching as I place the mug in front of him.

I fold my arms, straightening my posture slightly. "Do you need anything else?"

He breathes out a short hum in response before lifting the cup and tilting it back into his mouth. Lowering the cup again, he raises his shoulders into a shrug. "More sugar would be nice."

My eyes don't leave him, and I fight the unbearable urge to grab the mug and shatter that screen of his with the searing hot liquid. I shake off my vicious intrusive thoughts.

He bursts into a fit of laughter, holding the mug steadily. "Careful, hothead. There's more steam coming off you than the coffee."

I press my lips together into a tight smile. "I'll get that sugar for you." Without another word, I leave his office in search of the extra sugar as per his request. Sure, Vox may be going easier on me with the workload, but that doesn't mean he changed his shitty attitude. 

After a surprisingly difficult search for more sugar, I return to his office, shutting the door behind me. I step to his desk and slide the small cup of sugar across the desk toward him. "Is that all?"

He raises a brow and lets out a small huff. "What's the rush? It's not like I gave you anything else to do today."

"Then why am I here when I could be taking off?" I question, glaring daggers at him.

He picks up the small cup, repeatedly tapping the sugar into the coffee mug. "Your presence is so delightful," his wide grin masks his sarcastic tone. He gives the mug a light stir and motions for me to sit across from him.

Briefly considering my choices, I sit down. "I thought someone so famous would have more important things to do than chat with his employees."

"Angelic Security is in the process of being finalized, so I've got plenty of time on my hands," he replies, taking a sip of the coffee. "All that's left to do is decide when to put it on sale."