Cupid's Contract

No Thanks for the Wicked

"Christ, Eve, what was that?" His eyebrows were in the furrowed position, his hand was rubbing at the bridge of his nose, and he looked utterly befuddled.

"What was what?"

His look was response enough.

"Ohh! Thaaaaaaat," she tried to smile, but it fell flat.

"Look, I appreciate you defending me, but it wasn't necessary. That's just how Richard is. He likes to show off his power, but he wouldn't actually fire me. He's all bark."

Eve couldn't believe her ears. "All bark? All bark!" She wanted to shake him. "I don't care if it was all flatulence! It's not ok! You're so much better than that! Really. I can't stand it, and I won't have to anymore."

"No, its not ok, but you didn't need to hang yourself out to dry over it. That was ludicrous. You've really done a number on your career, you know." His face showed no sign of relaxing its grim set.

"My career? You think I did that for my career? I couldn't give two tosses about my career, not if it means working in places like this!"

She couldn't tear her eyes away from him, but he couldn't seem to even meet hers. Her gaze roved over his suit, all crumpled and wrinkly, with the sleeves rolled back to the elbows and the cuffs unbuttoned. His tie was hanging loosely around his neck and she had never seen his hair so messy. She didn't know what it was about this man, but he had her completely baffled.

He simultaneously annoyed her and filled her with affection. It wasn't just that he had forearms to die for, or these big crystal eyes that changed like a mood ring. In all the time they had worked together she had never found him boring. He challenged her and respected her ideas and he remembered her overcomplicated coffee order.

She really thought she could love him. With or without the stupid locket's permission.

"Look, Drew. I do care about my career, I'm not totally mental, but I think I care about you more."

His startled eyes came up to meet hers, and she made a mental note to lecture Zeus on giving men eyelashes like that. It wasn't right.

Her arms were still full of her rubbish from her office, but she shuffled closer to him anyway.

"I have worked at this stupid company long enough and never said a word about how they treat women. I let them undermine me and patronise me and I just took it. I guess maybe I didn't care about this job as much as I thought. But I couldn't let him talk to you like that. You deserve so much better."

One hand on his hip, the other tousling his hair, and Drew shimmied a few steps closer as well.

"Wait, so the whole reason you imploded upstairs was for me? Not because Gerard is a great statistician and Polly has stunning penmanship?"

"It's Molly, you buffoon."

He quirked his lips up, the dimples came out, and she tried not to swoon. "I know. I also happen to know that Gerard retired last year, but you left that out of your little speech."

Eve scowled and tried to cross her arms huffily, but there was too much knickknacks everywhere and her mug still had a little bit of coffee dregs.

Drew smiled fully this time and took the mug from her. "You're cute when you pout like a toddler," he commented, before running his free hand along her cheek and tucking the curls behind her ear.

It was hard for Eve to think straight at the moment. Drew was very close and he had a touch so light she could have been imagining the whole thing. But she wasn't, she couldn't be, because her every sense was alert and tingling.

Eve could feel her eyelids starting to flutter closed, and then a jovial voice cut through the hubbub of all the traffic noise.

"Eve, love, there you are, my darling!"

Were all mythical creatures imbued with terrible timing, or was Cupid just the exception?