10 minutes. That's how long Vox has been ranting inside this stuffy limo. I didn't dare interrupt, aside from the few words I managed to get in, while he used about every curse in his vocabulary to express his outrage. Most of it slipped in one ear and out the other, but I have an idea of the memo: I screwed up by visiting the hotel. My tense body shifts in the seat across from him.
"-cause that place is trashy and for worthless lowlifes. Like, what the fuck?" He seethes through clenched teeth.
For the first time since I entered the limo, his rant reaches a pause. I take it as my queue to say something. "You never told me not to go there."
"Well, I'm telling you now," he defends instantly. "I don't want you going again."
"Why is it the one place I'm not allowed to be?" As much as I don't want to anger him any more than he already is, his reasoning is one I'd like to hear.
"Cause I said so, and I don't owe you an explanation more," he snaps back.
Solid point. Unfortunately, I'm forced to blindly comply with his rules, which are all he owes me. It would be senseless to make an argument attempt against his stubborn self. "I'll stay far from it, then."
He leans back in his seat, seemingly regaining a calmer state. "I figured," his narrowed eyes drift to the side in thought. They retrace and bore into mine. "You didn't make any deals, did you?" A different emotion presents itself in his tone. Perhaps worry? No, that couldn't be it. Not with his ego.
Though he didn't outright give names, it doesn't take a genius to realize his concern solely lies in Alastor. I shake my head. "I didn't make any deals." Luckily, he didn't ask if I was offered a deal.
"Good. I don't need such problems wasting my time."
With the much-needed silence, I allow myself to think. It's unbelievable how even after hooking up just the prior night, he's right back to his pissy self. I can hardly process how suddenly he switches up. Although, I suppose he's not entirely to blame. After all, I went to the hotel that his rival co-runs. If he weren't so controlling, I would express some guilt for my actions. Moments of peace with Vox don't tend to last long—they truly must be cherished— I can't be too surprised things turned out this way.
"To avoid anything like this from happening again, you're staying with me until after the extermination." His statement captures my immediate attention.
My head jerks up, and I squint as if assessing whether he's being for real or not. "As in with Velvette and Valentino? All three of you?"
"Given that we live together, yes, all three of us," he remarks demeaningly.
I'm beyond baffled at the confirmation. The last thing I expected was an invitation to live in the Vee Tower, even if only for the next two days, and quite frankly, I have no interest. "Uh, thanks, but no."
He lets out a mix between a scoff and a laugh. "That wasn't a request."
"Come on, you can't be serious. You own plenty of other souls but don't force this kind of stuff onto them," I try to convince him out of it.
"You're right," he snickers. "I don't force this kind of luxury onto any of them but you. Let that sink in for a minute."
My mouth shuts tight. He got me there, as per usual. Sometimes, I'm torn between being annoyed and impressed with his quick-witted comebacks. They're infuriatingly brilliant.
At my silence, he speaks again. "Besides, this way, I'll make sure you don't die. Finding yet another replacement for your job would be a nuisance."
Just like that, with the completely unnecessary usage of his last sentence, I feel unimportant again— as disposable as trash. However, that may be putting it slightly overdramatic. "I'm guessing this idea of yours was spontaneous."
YOU ARE READING
Your Star (Vox x reader)
FanfictionAs one of Velvette's designers, y/n never seems to catch a moment of peace. However, desperately needing the money, she has no choice but to dedicate her whole afterlife to her work. Things take a turn when Vox, whom she knows as a respected overlor...