The Devil Named Deimos

Unfamiliarity

Walking into the building, with black pumps announcing my arrival, a worker immediately takes my coat; but I was in unfamiliar territory. Deimos, or Mr. Themis, requested a meeting, but it was to take place in his building this time. 

To say I was nervous was an understatement, but to say I showed it, was a lie. 

Stepping into the empty elevator, I pressed the top floor. Looking in the mirror which adorned the elevator's insides, I fixed my hair and assessed myself. The topic of this meeting was something I never thought I would have a business meeting about: marriage. 

We both have accepted the proposition at this point, now the only thing left is to discuss how it will play out. I still can't process that this is happening, it feels unreal. 

But hey, there is always a handy dandy thing called divorce. 

Taking a deep breath I step out of the elevator and follow who I assume to be Deimos' secretary to his office. It was odd to thing there would be only a personal desk in between us, while before there had been a whole conference table. 

His office door is open, and it seems as if no one is inside. I narrow my eyes at the sight, late to a meeting again. Turning to his secretary, I raise my eyebrow expectantly. 

"Sorry, Ms. Vulcan, very sorry," she rushes to say, realizing how unprofessional her employer is being, "I'm sure he will be in any minute, please take a seat." Her heels click as she scurries to find the Devil, wherever the hell he was. Rolling my eyes in annoyance at his actions, I plop into one of the seats behind his desk. 

I take notice of how bare his desk is, and his office overall. He has a beautiful view of the city, just like my office, but something about his seems different, I just can't put my finger on what. 

My eyes continue to scan the room until they land on a photograph on his desk. It lacks a frame as it simply lays on the wooden desk, starring a little boy with raven black hair and a woman seeming to be in her early thirties. 

She looks stunning, with black curls framing her face and her eyes a beautiful tone of amber. The woman has an arm wrapped around the little boy, kissing his cheek. The affection radiating off the photograph makes my lips twitch, it was heart-warming. Picking it up out of curiosity, my eyes notice the details. 

The little boy sports a toothy-grin and his eyes seem amber at first, like the woman's, but at second glance they are a striking shade of golden. A shade that seems all too familiar. 

"I wasn't aware you were here to inspect my office, Ms. Vulcan," Deimos' voice startles me and I drop the photograph immediately, "rather, I thought we were having a business meeting." The Devil settles into his office chair, across from me, his golden eyes burning me and his head cocked to the side. I always seem to make him angry

"I apologize, Dei-" I pause, catching myself, "Mr. Themis." This was a professional environment, and I had to maintain it. Deimos doesn't show any reaction to my slip, I wouldn't expect him to, but I think I catch a look of confusion pass through his eyes. It's gone as soon as it was there.

I don't bring up his tardiness, since he just caught me snooping, I felt I had no right to. What a great start to a meeting about both of our futures. Or should I say our future.

"Here is the contract my team and I have written up," The Devil says, while unbuttoning his suit jacket as he settles into his chair, "now would be the time to discuss it." The demanding tone in which he always seems to talk in has a mixed affect on me, it irritates me but ignites something else in me too. 

Deimos slides the packet to me and I pick it up just before it falls off the table. Crossing my legs I begin to read every word of the contract, because businessmen are often snakes. I find myself having to reread lines because I can feel Deimos' intense stare never leaving me. Shivers run down my back as I fight not to meet his golden eyes. 

"Staring is not very nice, Mr. Themis," I mumble as I flip to the next page in the packet. I bite my lip as try to focus more on what I am reading, rather on who is in front of me. 

"Who ever said I was nice," Deimos' deep voice playfully states, dragging my eyes to him. I look up only to find his gold saturated eyes already gazing at me. I wanted to know what was going on in his head. I wanted to have a map of the maze that is his mind. 

I rolled my eyes at him and huffed at the perfection sitting in front of me in frustration. My eyes resumed picking apart the contract, taking my time in absorbing the details. It stated that the marriage was only for publicity purposes, so we were both allowed to engage in other relationships, as long as they were taken care of privately. 

We would have to be seen at events together as a couple, which was to be expected. The contract also stated that we would live together, which I found myself pondering. Was that really necessary?

"The living arrangements mentioned here," I started, "are they really necessary?" Looking up from the documents I await his response. Deimos seems to be thinking, calculating what to say.

"I waved the suggestion aside at first too," Deimos admits, assuring me he would never want to live with me, "but then some potential problems came up. Paparazzi in this city are known to be invasive enough to photograph people even at their doorstep, or often give the public an idea of where they live. It would preferable, for the image, if we seemed to live together."  

I studied him for a moment, noticing how he hadn't look up from his copy of the contract while explaining. Which was odd, considering Deimos always seems to initiate eye contact. I understood what he was saying, and though the request was odd, I was willing to sacrifice familiarity for the future of my business.  

The contract stated the official marriage was to take place two months after the signing, but the engagement only a month after. It was to be quick but it wasn't that hard to be believe for public figures of this day and age.

I chewed the inside of my cheek in thought, in deep thought. Could I do this? I rested my temple on my fist as I stared at the contract blankly, lost in my mind. Furrowing my eyebrows, I slide the contract back onto the table. 

"Aurora," Deimos begins to say in that deep voice of his, "I understand if you don't want to sign, but-"

"Hand me a pen."