The Devil Inside

You glanced at him over the rim of your teacup.

Good thing he did not know it was empty by now and you were merely using it to hide behind, so as not to be blatantly and obviously staring at him.

It was unfair.

The thought lingered in your mind as you admired the way the sun put little highlights in his raven-black hair that curled up slightly at the ends. His eyes were cast down, his attention focused on the paper in front of him and the contrast of the dark lashes against the pale skin made the already long eyelashes appear even longer.

Utterly unfair that guys like him were blessed with such eyelashes.

Not to mention the flawless skin and finely cut face ... and the silky hair.

Sitting opposite of him, he made you feel rather grey and ordinary. Mortal. While he looked like the perfect image of a god. Especially with the afternoon sun pouring through the window behind him as though someone had deliberately arranged the lighting for maximum effect.

He even behaved like a god. Albeit an arrogant one, who seemed to have no time to waste with lesser mortals. You had worked with him for three days, had watched him interact with his employees and could tell what kind of man he was.

The asshole kind.

But while the others were intimidated by his arrogant and unpredictable behaviour, you were intimidated by his beauty.

It was unfair that men like him were so damn beautiful.

“When you are done staring, I would advise you return to your work, since you wish to finish this by tonight. I won’t pay you any extra time.”

Oops. Caught.

You cleared your throat, set the empty cup on the table and reached for a pile of papers.

“Sorry for staring. I was lost in thought,” you quickly added, trying to sound apologetic.

“I don’t pay you for thinking, either,” came his snarky reply.

Then don’t distract me with your looks.

And your cursed beautiful accent.

Apart from looking like a god, he also had a lovely British accent and a rather eloquent way of expressing himself.

A beautiful voice, too.

You rolled your eyes at yourself.

It wasn’t his fault. You just had a thing for beautiful things. Paintings, landscapes, clothes, words, accents and people.

Beauty enthralled you.

Thank God, this guy was such an ass, otherwise you might have regretted that your assignment finished tonight. You might have fallen for him. Melted into a puddle, right there at his very feet.

You smirked at the thought.

Well, fortunately for you – and not so fortunately for him – you valued inner beauty just as much as outer beauty. And he certainly lacked the former. So, there was no way you’d get yourself into trouble.

You were absolutely safe.

Despite all that, you weren’t quite sure what to make of him.

The last three days had passed in near silence. You were used to spending a lot of time on your own and had never minded quiet, but this was different. God, you’d spent ten to twelve hours a day in the same room with this man and had barely spoken a word to him. Or he to you, for that matter. That was, except for: Would you like more tea? Can Sarah get you anything? It is time for lunch.

He had his secretary, Sarah, bring you food, snacks, anything you might have asked for, really. As long as you stayed put and worked through those files with him.

Maybe it was the spell of silence you longed to break, or maybe something inside you simply wanted to hear a little more of that velvet voice with the beautiful accent. Whatever it was, when he leaned back and reached for his glasses, you took the opportunity to strike up a conversation.

“Why do you even do this?”

“I beg your pardon?” He glanced up at you, evidently questioning your sanity for asking him a simple question.

You gestured at the files stacked across the desk.

“This. Aren’t you the CEO of this company? I mean, don’t you have employees who do this kind of work for you?”

He sighed, adjusted his glasses and brought his attention back to the stack of files in front of him.

“We managed to work in relative silence for three days and now you decide to ruin the pleasant atmosphere by trying to make conversation?”

You snorted.

“Well, I’m sorry, your majesty, I was unaware that conversation was not in my contract.” It slipped out before you could stop yourself, and you bit your lip. One day, that loose tongue of yours was going to get you into serious trouble.

“You don’t have a contract,” he deadpanned.

“At least that means you can’t fire me for snarky replies,” you quipped, immediately biting your lip harder.

Okay, maybe you were pushing it, but you couldn’t help yourself. His words may have sounded polite, but the man was downright rude.

Why should you bother pretending to be nice?

And really, what was the worst that could happen?

He could throw you out without paying you.

You could live with that.

On second thought... Thor would be positively upset if you blew the job he’d organised for you in the last few hours of the last day simply because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

And the last thing you wanted was to upset your best friend.

Fine. Silence it was.

“I do it because I enjoy it. Doing this kind of work allows me to relax my mind.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. He briefly looked at you over the rim of his glasses before he turned his attention back to the files.

“It is...” He cleared his throat. “Well, it was—a rather peaceful and quiet job until my brother begged me to babysit his girlfriend, who all of a sudden seems to have more interest in conversing with me than in actually doing her job.”

Sassy bastard.

“I am not Thor’s girlfriend,” you said flatly.

“Sure, that’s why he’s taking you out for dinner tonight.”

“It’s my birthday.”

“How quaint ... and you don’t have anything better to do on your birthday than spend time with a blonde, muscle-packed would-be underwear model, who you claim to have no interest in?”

“Thor’s not ... I am not …”

Loki’s eyes snapped up, and the look he gave you said it all: challenge me, and I will torment you for the rest of the day until you wish you’d never set foot in this room.

You pouted.

And decided he was not worth the energy.

“Well, forget it. I actually preferred the silence as well.”

You watched the corners of his mouth twitch a little before you huffed and returned to the papers.

Damned wannabe God of Sass and Sarcastic Utterances. He actually enjoyed this.

Blonde, muscle-packed would-be underwear model? He might just as well have called Thor an oaf.

Sure, Thor was attractive, but not exactly your type.

How the God of Sarcasm and Thor could be brothers was entirely beyond you. They didn’t look alike and their personalities could not have differed more.

Thor was the teddy bear-slash-best-buddy-type and you couldn’t think of anyone kinder to hang out with. He was laid back and hilariously funny. He lived in a small house down the road from you and spent most mornings on his surfboard, meditating on the ocean—at least that’s what you called it when you watched him float out there on the water while you went for your morning run.

Thor wore the same leather jacket and jeans most of the time, while his brother here dressed in Armani and Valentino. Loki looked sophisticated and perfectly stylish. You couldn’t even imagine him walking barefoot on the beach...

Oh, getting sand everywhere.

It would probably drive him nuts.

You were pretty sure he’d never been to a beach in his entire life.

Loki Odinson was clearly an indoor god.

Another thing you still had trouble wrapping your head around was the fact that the god was the CEO of an international law firm – and Thor’s little brother.

Thor was so “ordinary” that you were utterly shocked to discover that your neighbour-turned-best-buddy was actually rich.

No, not rich. He was loaded.

There was nothing about Thor that screamed “I have plenty of money”, apart from the fact that he did not have a regular job. But, hey, neither did you.

When you mentioned to him that you might not be able to pay your rent that month, Thor offered you a one-off job at his sister’s company the very next day.

“My little brother could do with some help with the annual reports. Easy paperwork stuff. Nothing complicated.”

It had sounded so casual.

It was not until you walked up to the high-rise in Downtown Manhattan, the name “ODINSON” gleaming in golden letters above the entrance, that you realised your Friday-night movie buddy was more than a simple surf yogi.

And his “little” brother was the CEO of the company.

Thor would have a lot of explaining to do when he picked you up for dinner tonight. You turned your attention back to the files at hand.

The next few hours passed in silence.

Just before seven you finally leaned back in your chair.

“Okay, that’s it. All done.” You stretched and straightened.

Loki did not even look up, merely muttered something and continued scribbling notes into his planner until you stood and slung your bag over your shoulder.

“I’d better get going.”

“My brother isn’t coming up?”

“I thought I’d meet him downstairs, save him having to come all the way up here.”

Loki finally looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“How very self-giving of you. Not sure if he truly deserves this kindness though.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You don’t like him very much, do you?”

“Quite the opposite, actually. I love my brother. I just have a unique way of expressing it.”

The grin that appeared on his face was different. It was genuinely warm, lacking any signs of sarcasm.

You could not help smiling back at him as you stood there, trying to figure him out.

Maybe he was not as much of an asshole after all?

“Ah, right, your cheque,” he said, reaching into a drawer to pull out a chequebook. “You sure deserve to be rewarded for all your hard work.”

“It is a cash cheque,” he said as he handed it to you.

You folded it neatly, slipped it into your wallet and tucked it safely into your bag.

By the time you looked up, Loki had gone back to his work, ignoring you completely.

Rude.

“Well, thanks - and have a good evening.” You shrugged awkwardly.

He merely nodded, so you turned and walked to the door.

Your fingers had barely touched the doorknob when Loki’s voice stopped you.

You turned around.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” he said, looking at you with a small smile.

Your lips opened to say something like “you’re welcome” when he added,

“Especially for keeping that pretty mouth of yours shut for these last few hours.”

A self-satisfied smile lingered on his lips as he turned back to the papers, leaving you staring at him.

What the hell was wrong with this man?

You gritted your teeth.

Not worth it.

Not.

Worth.

It.

Breathe, step through this door and never see him again.