The Daemon's Disguise (Sequel to He Was A Dog + previously Out There)

Out There (Sequel to He Was A Dog) - Chapter 8

Blue:

It was probably fair to say that I was rusty when it came to the art of seduction. Three years of raising a child and a rather lacklustre track record with men prior, probably meant I was the last person who should have been put in charge of seducing their boss.

So when I walked into the office on Monday morning, swinging my hips and pushing my chest out, I couldn’t help but wonder if the stares were merely pitiful confirmations that being a single mother had made me desperate.

I crossed the floor from the door to my desk, trying to ignore the way the tip-tap of people typing had suddenly stopped as I entered the room.

It’s for Bruno, I told myself as I sat down, it’s just for Bruno.

And it would be probably the last thing I did – the waistband of the skirt cut into my stomach painfully. Obviously, the designer hadn’t accounted for a mummy tummy.

“You look nice, India.” I looked up from my computer, cringing slightly at the way Stewart was looking down at me. It was an odd concept, being flirted with. I was so used to identifying as Elijah’s mother, that I forgot that - with a bit of make-up and some nice clothes – I could actually be an attractive young woman.

I smiled weakly, running my fingers through my hair awkwardly.

“Thought I’d try something new,” I mumbled, biting down on my lip.

Stewart seemed to grin appreciatively, giving me the once over before he disappeared back into his office. I let out a sigh. Well, if seducing Bruno was going to be as easy as seducing Stewart, I’d be laughing. Unfortunately, Bruno was a handsome, engaged young man. Stewart was a sweaty, middle aged singleton who probably didn’t even own deodorant.

By lunchtime, I had successfully encountered most of the men in the workroom. It was amazing how a tight skirt and a shear blouse could attract even the most shyest of individuals. However, it was seemingly all in vain; Bruno had yet to grace us with his presence.

And it wasn’t as though I could text Isaac to let him know that his plan wasn’t working; he just seemed to appear at the most inconvenient of times.

Apparently, he and Bruno both had that in common.

“India!”

I looked around, sandwich halfway to my mouth. Stewart peered round the edge of the boardroom door, neck flushed red.

“Yeah?”

My mouth was full of an attractive mix of roast chicken and stuffing and malted bread – perhaps that would deter his lecherous eyes.

“Have you got the Leeman files handy?” My desk – a sea of chaos consisting of pieces of paper and staplers and pens and the odd Mars Bar wrapper – stared back at me, almost daring me to dislodge the mess I’d created.

“…Yeah, I’ll bring it through, Stewart!” I called back, swallowing my sandwich down.

Leeman files. Leeman files.

I could vaguely remember skim reading the file in question, taking in the company’s brief. But could I remember where I’d put the bloody thing? No, of course not.

“Angie,” I hissed, eyeballing the woman at the desk next to mine. “Leeman files?”

Angie raised her gaze from the papers she was reading, looking at me in disapproval. She pointed a long, acrylic nail at the second drawer in my desk, rolling her eyes.

“You put it in there, India.”

After a swift rummage, a lot of swearing and several dirty looks from my colleagues, I emerged with a thick file from the bottom of the drawer, holding it tightly with a vice-like grip. It was simple, really; all I had to do was sashay over to the boardroom and drop the files off.