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casuallivi · 8 months

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The Midnight Kiss

I live bitches! barely lol. Slow and steady wins the race, they say. Hope that shit is true. 🤷

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 7: Here comes Jhonny

Morrigan Moretti never cared much for her catholic background.

For a spoiled little girl approaching the age of twelve, being catholic only meant Sunday mornings were reserved for church or else her nonna would have a fit. But going to church didn’t mean Morrigan attended the mass, no. The girl was well accustomed to finding her way to the backdoor, killing time behind the opulent white building till her grandma had enough of singing hymns.

In a boring Sunday mid spring, Morrigan snuck out of to find a boy sitting by the shade of a tree, their faithful meeting changing the curse of her life forever.

“What is this?” Morrigan scrunched her nose, looking over the little boy’s shoulder.

“A magazine.”

Mor squinted at the black woman in a yellow two piece sprawled on a beach towel, before her lips quirked in a sneer. Did this boy bring porn to church?

“A dirty magazine?”

She had seen naked women in her father’s hidden magazines before. And she was not impressed.

“A fashion magazine.” The boy corrected impatiently.

Oh, he did not have porn then. But his answer somehow made it all worse. What was a boy doing with a fashion magazine?

“That’s for girls,” she snickered under her breath.

The girly boy did not seem to like her words, because next thing she knew vexed hazel eyes cut to her so harshly, Mor flinched. Over his left brow, a pink cartoon band-aid creased.

“Fashion is for everybody."

With sharp page flip, he dismissed her completely, grabbing the pencil behind his ear to make annotations alongside the margin. In her short twelve years of life, few were the times Morrigan was ignored.

Okay, who was this boy?

She sat beside him on the steps, attempting to lure the boy back in conversation.

“I never saw a boy with a magazine like that,” then, when she had no answer, “have a dress that color…”

“Is it fun?” She tried again.

“…”

“Can I see it with you?”

No matter how hard she tried, the boy continued to ignored her, going as far as turning his back to her, making little Morrigan baffled. Huffing, she got up, cleaning her behind, eyeing the handkerchief under his butt, stopping his grey suit from getting dirty.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” She exploded, getting angrier by the minute.

Now she was really annoyed with him. He must not have recognized her, or know about her, because everyone in this town knew Morrigan Moretti was to be treated as nothing short of a princess.

Being the only child in a family were couples had a hard time conceiving lead Mor to grow used to being doted and catered for. House in the suburbs, private school, tutoring sessions, ballet lessons, and her long-life membership to the bay area Young Promising Ladies Club –which was passed down from mother to daughter– made sure she was well-educated and fine breeding lady who charmed everyone in the vicinity. Being a beautiful blonde, taller than most girls her age, with alabaster skin – which strayed from the general olive-ish tone of the Morettis – and the owner of a peculiar pair of brown eyes didn’t hurt either.

Everyone loved cute little girls, and Morrigan Moretti was cute as they come, never struggling for attention a day of her life.

Crossing her arms, Mor glared at the boy.

Despite his suit being perfectly pressed, and his black hair being meticulously combed to the side, she could see pink cuts coming out of the collar of his shirt, scratch marks on his wrists, and another colorful band-aid across his knuckles. All those cuts and bruises screamed trouble-maker to her.

How dare this shorty, trouble-maker, ignore her? Weirdo.

Feeling extremely irritated that he paid her no attention, her eyes set on the oh-so-precious object in his hands.

“You are very rude!” Morrigan said, kicking the magazine out of his hands. The boy gasped as the copy landed in a mud puddle, finally giving her what she wanted, and would want from him from that day onward: attention. “Oops. Sorry.” She wasn’t sorry one bit.

Serves him right for ignoring her.

The boy opened his mouth, but no sound came out, instead, the loud bells signaling the end of the mass caught her attention. At that moment, the big oak double-doors opened, a flock of elderly, couples and dutiful children spilling outside.

“Morrigan!” The happy voice of her noona reached her. “There you are, sweety. Come here child, I want to introduce you to my friend. Sofia, here she is. This is my granddaughter, Morrigan.”

Sofia turned out to be her noona’s best friend, who gave Mor a big huge and stained her cheeks red with lipstick. Discreetly, the blond girl cleaned her cheeks, feigning the polite expression she had long mastered. While cleaning herself, Mor payed little attention to the elderly women, eyes set on the boy swaggering towards them till he was standing behind Sofia. This boy looked nothing like the presentable boys she usually saw at church.

This one looked a foot taller than her, older too, with pants that barely reached his sockless ankles, sporting a loose faded-red tie which hanging from under the collar of his wrinkled shirt, a loud Gameboy firm in hand. He eyed him from head to toe, brow rising at the pink scratch marks on his cheek. The worst part was his hair: long enough to be tied at his nape with an ugly leather band. Ugh, she hated boys with girls’ hair. Morrigan made a face while he wasn’t looking.

When she was done analyzing the boy, Mor payed attention to her grandmother’s conversation, soon discovering the little hobo cosplay, and the boy who annoyed her earlier, were Sofia’s grandsons, who were moving in with her and would now be “a part of their community”.Her nonna was over the moon with the news, Mor not so much.

The weirdo’s name was Azriel. His older brother, Cassian.

When Sofia ordered the boys to greet her, Azriel merely nodded. She glared at the shorty, now hiding behind his noona.

“He’s a shy kid.” She smiled, patting his shoulder.

Mor couldn’t tell if he was really shy or resentful at her, but the one called Cassian seemed to be his opposite.

Cassian introduced himself without waiting for his grandma’s command, beaming as he kissed her hand, going on and on about how it was a pleasure to meet the pretty little girl he had heard so much about. Despite the gesture not being uncommon to Mor, who was used to people of all ages fussing over her, calling her pretty, granting all of her wishes, she liked him instantly.

Her noona, on the other hand, had no interest in Sofia’s older grandson, eyes shining only to Azriel, rushing him from behind Sofia, holding him and Mor close together.

“He’s your age, bambina. You are going to be best friends just like Sofia and I. I can tell.”

The two old ladies laughed.

Mor didn’t.

At the time, Morrigan had no idea how close she and Azriel would grow to be. Close enough to spend a decade in a relationship, flirting their way into it long before that.

Now they were no more.

Azriel had cut ties with her.

Their break up was no news to Morrigan. Azriel had done it a couple times before, set on separating his life from hers.

“I’m unhappy. I can’t do this anymore, Mor. I can’t.” He said the last time, breaking up with her again. “I’m done. I’m sorry, but I’m done.” “I won’t take your calls, I won’t answer the door, I won’t see you. We’ve been through so much, I don’t know – I don’t know how to stay friends with you. I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry it has to be like this, but this is the only way for us.”

Mor let him go that night, as she constantly did when she felt too tired to deal with his bullshit. Always something with that one.

Azriel had been hers for decades. She knew it was better to let him cool down, give him a few days and he’d be back to her again. Deep down Morrigan liked Azriel. The problem was Azriel was as emotional guy who like a boring monogamous relationship, and sometimes a girl needed a little break from routine. Not that she would not return to him afterwards. Mor always returned to Azriel’s side. There was nothing on this earth capable of separating them. Morrigan was a model because of him, Azriel worked for a fashion magazine because of her, their lives were way too intertwined to go on without the other.

So they lived like that. Morrigan gave him enough to keep him satisfy, hoping he could keep her satisfy, but he could. She would get bored, and he would want more, because Azriel always wanted more. He wanted full commitment, marriage, a house with dogs and kids. Morrigan wanted freedom, to enjoy life. So they’d start fighting, and she’d would get sick of him, letting him go for a while to cool down while she enjoyed the perks of the single life. Then, when things got boring again, she’d return to his side. Return to the man who loved her more than life itself.

Morrigan Moretti knew she’d marry Azriel Marino.

Eventually.

For as long as Mor could remember, Azriel had been irrevocably and undeniably in love with her. And for as long as she could remember, Mor had been irrevocably and undeniably in love with being loved by him.

In all honesty, Mor did not make it easy for him when they were kids, but to his credit, Azriel was not dissuaded by her hard personality. No one, in the whole world, loved her like Azriel did. In their twenties, Azriel dropped out of his dream college in Milan to move to Atlanta, because Mor was casted by a model agency in the city, and was “scared to be alone” there. One call. All it took for him to give up his dream and support hers was one phone call and a couple of fake tears while she painted her toenails.

Azriel went back to finish college later, but not before she turned into a runway model and moved to Milan herself, signing with a new, bigger agency. The little boy whose magazine she kicked grow into a man who had no difficulty in molding his life around hers, dedicating all of his free time to take care of her schedule, take care of her, so of course, Mor would reward him by settling down at his side.

Could you blame her for wanting to life her life before settling down? It was only fair to have some fun before being someone’s wife. Afterall, no matter how many times they broke up, they always got back together. Always.

Lately, one thing had been keeping her on edge, though.

Their break was too long.

This time Azriel had been taking his sweet time to crawl back to her side, longer than he ever did before. So long that Morrigan ended up hooking up with his brother.

Again.

Azriel didn’t know, would never know, but Morrigan had lost her virginity to Cassian. Had have a couple of one-nights with him along the years as well. She would never assume him, of course. If Mor wasn’t willing to lost her freedom in prol of Az, who never touched another woman in his life, imagine losing it to his man-whore of a brother, who loved no one but himself. Morrigan refused to be owned, she didn’t want a man to have that kind of power over her. And being owned by Cassian was beyond absurd.

“You’re coming with me to the office Christmas party.” Cassian announced one night, stripping his shorts. Morrigan hated how he wore short everywhere, like a young boy refusing to grow up. Would it kill him to put on some pants? Wear suits more than once a year? “What for?” Mor asked, unzipping her dress. “I need a girlfriend. The new shareholders will be there. They’ll feel more confident in the investment once they see me as a family-oriented kind of guy.” She waited for him to laugh, to tell her it was a joke. When he didn’t, Morrigan laughed and laughed, turning red in the face. “What’s so funny?” “You.” “Me?’ “You.” She repeated, “thinking I’m your girlfriend.” Cassian placed his hands on his hips, not amused. “You are my girlfriend.” “I’m no one’s girlfriend.” She was no one’s. Feeling the mood turn sour, Morrigan got of the bed. Cassian grabbed her arm before she took another step. “Let go, Cass.” “I’m not done talking to you.” “Well, I am. Let go.” “Still scared of relationships, blondie?” “I’m not scared, let me go.” “Get over yourself, Mor. You are not a fucking child anymore. You’ll fuck me every other night but won’t date me? Cut the horseshit. We are going, playing the happy lovable couple, then we’ll come back here and I’ll give a reward.” He moved her hand to his groin, show her exactly what she was getting. “I don’t want your shabby reward!” she spat at him. “You sure? Let me chance your mind, then.” Under heavy protest, Cassian threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the bathroom, showing Morrigan the kind of rewards he had in mind.

True to her word, Mor didn’t go to Cassian’s stupid Christmas party… but she couldn’t escape his stupid New Year’s Eve party.

Cassian had nothing to do with that, of course. Going to that party was the only way she had of seeing Azriel, who was also being true to his word, cutting all contact since their latest break up. Her calls weren’t answered, his doorman wouldn’t let her up anymore, her threatening texts were ignored, and the one time she managed to see him, Mor had to beguile Cassian into convincing his brother she was the perfect model to appear in Marino’s cover. To the increase of her stress, Azriel had remained strictly professional during the shooting, ignoring her efforts to meet afterhours. And then, at that awful karaoke party, he had the audacity of kissing someone else.

Dressed in an elegant black cocktail gown, Mor sipped her wine, eyes trained at the table on the far end of the restaurant; a table Azriel shared with no other than her.

Her.

The poorly dressed child-like woman she saw him kissing that night.

The same woman Cassian, for some reason, judge worthy of receiving a separate introduction during New Year’s Eve. Oh, Mor noticed their matching shirts instantly. She also noticed the dumb stunned look in her face when Cassian called Mor his girlfriend. That woman wanted to fuck Cass. Badly. Which let Mor utterly confused when she spied her all over Az. Her Az.

Despite being emotional one in their relationship, there was one thing Azriel and Mor had in common: Az did not like public displays of affection. Never had. Yet, he let himself be kissed just to spite her. Now here he was, going as far as taking that woman out, pretending to be on a date, doing everything in his power to make her jealous.

Mor blinked at the sight of the lousy girl.

What was her name again? Elide? Elisa? Elena? Well, who cares!

In the back of her mind, Morrigan had a faint memory of that woman being on set the day she posed for Marinos. She also remembered not liking her one bit. Too bubbly for her taste, too excited, too… happy. No one was that happy. Besides, A woman like Elisa would never attract Azriel in a million years. His taste ran on the refined side of things, not on women who dressed in shirts with comics printed on it. He should have chosen a better partner to pretend to be with.

That day Mor left the studio with a searing headache after spending half the day listening to distasteful jokes being traded left and right between Elena and Cassian –who was also present the shooting, despite her explicitly asking him not to– acting as if they were two pre-teens in a locker room. The other half consisted in her and Azriel going back and forth in a thousand of small irrelevant discussions that no one else seemed to follow.

Mor pushed her sunglasses up, stunned by the way the woman pointed her finger in Az' face. Their yelling getting louder. “Ignore them. We all do.” Cassian advised her. “You should call security.” “Nah, Ellie is not violent.” He slid his arm across her shoulders. “This is nothing, you should have seen the May shooting. She threw a binder at him.” “She did what?” “Don’t worry. They’ll reach an agreement in a sec.” “This is absurd.” “Nope, just another day with Az and Ellie. Believe me, I get tired of it too.” “Why don’t you fire her?” “Can’t.” “Why?” “Azzy won’t let me.” At that, Mor frowned. Why wouldn’t Az fire someone he couldn’t work with?” “Why?” Cassian shrugged. “Beats me. Az turns me down every time I found a replacement. Said is a hassle to train someone else when Elain gets him.”

The whole conversation made no sense to Morrigan. The more she watched them, the more out of character Az acted. Contrary to what she had seen him do countless times in the past, Azriel did not order the photographer around. He did threaten to fire her countless times, but everyone could see he didn’t mean it. The worst part was watching him discussing ideas with her, listening to hers as well, going as far as incorporating her inputs in the itinerary.

That day Morrigan caught Azriel doing a measly a staff’s job because she asked him to.

Mor returned from reapplying make up, to catch Azriel and the photographer mid conversation, the couple conversing quietly in the corner of the set. “Marino,” “No.” “Marino, please!” “I said no.” “I keep getting shadows in her face.” “Have her under another light stand.” “I can’t! This is her best angle so far, I don’t want to lose it.” Azriel rubbed his temple. “Just photoshop the shadows away.” “You’re the one spanking my ass the other day for using too much photoshop!” Azriel’s ears turned pink. “I spanked no one’s ass!” he hushed stressed. “Figure of speech. Help me out, will ya?” “What do you want me to do, Archeron? There’s no electrician here.” “Hold it for me, please?” Elain held his hand in hers, bouncing up and down while blinking repeatedly. “Twenty minutes tops. Promise.” Struggling, Azriel pulled his hand from her grip, cleaning them with his pocket square. “Don’t be stupid, I won’t hold a light for twenty minutes ‘cause you want me to.”

As if the dialogue itself wasn’t bizarre, to see Azriel taking off his shoes to step in the sterile zone to hold a light stand had Morrigan shocked.

And as she sat here, in this restaurant, watching him hold the photographer’s hands, kissing her palms without a care in the world, Mor’s hatred for the yapping-girl ten folded.

Mor snickered into her glass, finding it funny how Azriel was doing everything in his power to get her attention. She didn’t know why he bother parading that one around. Soon she’d be nothing but a smudge in his latest attempt to break up with her. All those who came before her didn’t get a second date, this one would not either. Azriel Marino was obsessed with Morrigan Moretti, there was no space for anyone else in his heart, nor his mind.

In the distance, Azriel fixed the girl’s frizzy hair behind her ear, pinching the tacky earring daggling in her lobe. Mor's intention to sip her wine was replaced by her downing the entire goblet.

“How’s your lobster?” Her boring, bald, partner’s question caught her by surprise, bringing Mor’s attention back to her own table.

She sliced a piece of meat, curling her lips around her fork with an exaggerated moan.

“Delicious.”

Her companion’s eyes gleamed with malice.

She gave him a sultry smile, but in her mind, Mor was already back to ignoring him.

Azriel having a “date” in the same restaurant she was meeting with her newest spoon was no coincidence. The man new everything about her, there was no way he came here not knowing she had this dinner schedule for tonight. Stalker much? The boring man served her more wine, which Morrigan gladly accepted.

Well, since Azriel was trying his best to get her attention, Mor would be generous and grant his wish. After she was done with this sponsor, she’d visit Azriel to do what she did best: speed the inevitable end of his doomed relationship. And Azriel would go back to doing what he did best: pine for her.

~~~~~~~~~~

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casuallivi · 1 year

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The Midnight Kiss

Azriel took a hike this chap 😬😬 his inner thoughts were secluded from me😓😓 Fear not, Elain had no problem in blabbing for three two . Enjoy your Elain-fest, i guess… Adopte an author today, and win the privilege of helping to keep the flame alive! See ya 😻😽

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 6: In need of a Scotty to beam her up

Hands roaming each other's bodies in a hurry, a trail of discarded clothes leading to the bedroom, ragged breaths and frantic steps finding the way towards the bed, two bodies rolling around the sheets, her soft moans and his rough groans matching the “thud, ” of the headboard denting the wallpaper, a symphony of,

“Faster,”

“Harder,”

“Deeper,”

“There. Right there,”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

loud enough to haunt her nosy neighbor for days to come!

Had they been a regular couple, that’s how their third date would be coming to an end; in a steamy encounter between the sheets.

Since they were Azriel and Elain, their third date came to an end with the couple talking in his car, the engine roaring smoothly on the background.

Elain Archeron had been away from the dating scene for five years, yet the rules had not changed much: People expected to get laid by the third date. Sometimes on the first date, or even before having a first date! Bottom line is, go down dirty and hard in the first opportunity you have, put all the chemistry to test to avoid settling down with someone you have no interest in sleeping with. Despite not understanding the appeal of sleeping around, Elain agreed that a couple’s sexual life played a big part in the relationship. She also knew good bedroom chemistry turned into shackles when a guy treated you like shit outside of it. Worst bargain coin ever. Elain had been in one of those relationships before. It took so long for her to see how shitty her last relationship was, and finally break free from it, that once she did, Elain retracted from men all together. Hence the birth of her Crush Land.

Elain’s Crush Land was her happy place, a safe space where she could fantasize about the men she found attractive, without actually having to get involved with them. After all, it was much easier to crush from a distance than to get close and end up disappointed, especially when she had no confidence in maintaining a healthy relationship. In her Land the men were all perfect, flawless, fulfilling all of her expectations without her having to explain a thing. As every good sovereign, she establish ground rules for her Land, two unbreaklabe rules that kept her reign peaceful for years:

1º)This cannot be a one-Crush-land;

2º) The maximum of days a Crush can remain in his throne, is seven days. After that, he's trouble.

With time, Elain grow attached to her delusional lifestyle, content with her fantasies, her Crush Land providing all the male interaction she needed. Until she met Cassian.

Goddamn Cassian Marino, with his massive size and perfect round ass, sauntering into her life flaunting his silky hair and megawatt smiles, destroying everything she worked hard to perfect. Cass refused to fit into her equation, shattering her one-week-crush mold, frequently appearing in her mind till he was the only guy she could fantasize about. Funny thing is that was her wake up call. Ah, Elain thought sadly, I must be lonely.

Loneliness was a bitch. Especially for someone like her, who had been in relationships more than she had been alone. That’s why her Crush Land was important. No matter how silly it sounded, it helped her to learn to be alone, feel fulfilled by herself, not depend on a partner to give her worth. Elain was worthy. And her ever growing infatuation with Cass was proof that she was ready to get back into the dating world, preferably with him.

Life was also a bitch, slapping her, laughing at her pathetic hopeful plans, rubbing Cass' smoking-hot grilfriend in her face, before she could even have the chance to embarass herself with a confession. Cassian deciding to start when Elain decided to start dating, only to end up dating someone that was not her would be hilarious, had it not happened to her. It did happen to her, and Elain was devastated. But no matter! She would not let that stop her from taking a leep of faith with another guy.

Did she expected for this guy to be Cass' brother? No.

Did she expect for this guy to be her work-nemesis? Also, no.

Did she expect for this guy to be both, and despite the fact she knew that, to accept dating him anyway? Absolutly not!

Sometimes spontaneity made her do crazy things.

Elain would be the first one to admit Azriel's credentials were not looking good. But no matter! Azriel had showed he was interested in moving on too, and Elain was nothing, if not an optimist. She was confident about her abilities to move on, ready to conquer any challange life throw her way! All she needed was a guy who was willing to take her, not tame her, and everything would work out.

That’s how she found herself in boss-turned-boyfriend situation. What Elain and Azriel were doing was different from everything she had ever tried. This time she started dating her boyfriend before even liking him properly, going on dates to get to know each other. And Elain was enjoying this “get to know me” stage, enjoying discovering the little things she would not know simply by working with him.

Despite not having his brother’s easy disposition to accommodate strangers and make everyone feel comfortable with a flash of his white teeth, Azriel wasn’t the cold-hearted tin man she anticipated. As she got to know him, Elain discovered Azriel had no problem in being open and honest about his feelings, his expectations regarding their relationship, his desire to fall in love with her.

Elain was surprised to know he wasn't just interested in moving on, he was interested in her too! Initially, she thought they would help each other get over their exes, gain confidence with the opossite sex, and move on to find actual partners. Azriel nearly blew a fuse when she told him that.

"Let me get this straight. You wanna date me, to date another guy?" "Yeah, we," "No." He stopped her. "You'll date another girl, too," "No." "Let me finish," "No. You are not dating another guy! Are you out of your damn mind?" He interrupted, a vein popping in his forehead. "I warned you, Elain, I warned you I don't do casual. You date me, you are mine, and I do not share what's mine. Fuck no, you'll not date another guy."

Elain thought women's hormones sure worked in mysterious ways, because she had no business finding a domineering man that sexy. So, she changed routes, treating him as a real boyfriend, trying her best to box all his annoying bits to focus in his qualities –a feature she spent the better part of a year believing he did not have. Turned out he did.

It pained her old self to admit this, but Azriel was excellent in his job. He was also beautiful –she was dying to get him in front of her lenses– educated –when he wanted to be– from a good family, with good values, and apparently, extra sexy when he claimed his domain of her. It would be a lie to say a man like that, showing interest in you, didn’t send butterfly into a frenzy in a girl’s belly. Azriel being an attentive boyfriend didn't hurt either.

Even busy, he made sure to text her here and there throughout the the week, matching his free time to hers so they could go on dates. Since their relationship changed from coworkers to lovers, he started watching his tone, policing himself to not lash at her as he usually would – in fact, Azriel was treating the entire team better. Taking did breaths to control his temper while rejecting ideas, reducing the number of times he indiretcly called them stupid during a day, and he had only told her to shut up twice this week – a progress if she ever saw one. It was her fault, honestly. Elain couldn't help it, provoking him was fun.

Plus, bantering didn't end with her wanting to punch his teeth out anymore, now they ended with him cornering her in the empty pantry, his office, the elevator, he parking lot, deseert corridors, Azriel tracking her down to bite the snarkiness out of her lips.

“Jesus, you are such a biter,” she pointed out one day, after a particularly sharp nip. “Learned from you,” he breathed in her mouth.

Guilty. Elain couldn’t get enough of his plushy lips, nibbling and sucking on them till Azriel lost his stark facade, self-control thrown out the window, forgetting they stood in company property to press her on the nearest corner, groaning into her mouth, closing his long finger around her throat, making a mess of her hair. The man seemed obsessed with her hair and her neck. Elain was quickly becoming obsessed with his neck too, tip-toeing to fill it with wet kisses, leaving hickeys at the base, just shy from the collar of his dress shirts, like a little secret hidden in plain sight. It felt good to brand her teeth on his skin. A small punishment for all the times he made he want to punch his face.

At the end of the day, Elain wasn’t in love with Azriel, but she sure liked being his girlfriend. So much so, that when he pulled up in front of her building, she began to stall, coaxing him into conversing a little bit longer, not wanting to part.

Now she sat in his car, asking him endless questions about a subject most girlfriends would avoid like the plague: His ex.

“So you never had a girlfriend? Like, never, ever.” She asked for the third time, stunned with the complex and crazy history of her boyfriend.

Elain knew it wasn’t proper to use their date night to play 21 questions about his ex, but she was a curious person.

“If you want to get technical about it. She didn’t want labels. Had no problems getting the advantages of one, tho.”

His eyes dipped to her leg, which was bare, courtesy of her peach pleated skirt, a question clear in his hazel orbs. Elain allowed silently, watching as he gently ran his knuckles over the longitudinal scar dividing her kneecap in two halves, the line of scar tissue lighter than her skin.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Only if it gets too cold. My doc said it’s psychological, I said he isn’t the one feeling the pins burning. I swear to you, my orthopedist is whack, never trust your knee to Edgar Montero from Beacon Hill, never."

"How many pins?"

Elain lifted two fingers. Azriel removed his hand.

"It's fine, most of the time I forget about it."

He reached for his jacket on the back seat, draping it over her legs.

“Thanks,” Elain undid the straps of her sandals, not noticing him adjusting the temperature, and crossed her legs under his jacket, snapping a quick pic of her covered legs, catching the shoes on his carfloor. Then she returned to the subject of her interest. “Oh man, that’s a lot of responsibility, being someone’s first girlfriend. Just so you know, I had a lot of boyfriends, lots of experience.”

Azriel turned on his seat to better face her. “I have a decade of experience.”

She used her hand to make and “0” shape, saying, “stil had zero girlfriends. Were you lonely?"

Elain was. In her last relationship, Elain felt lonely even though she wasn't alone. She never wanted to experience that feeling again.

Azriel merely shrugged. “Work kept me busy enough.”

“Life is more than fashion, Marino. Life is bitter without the sweet frosting of love."

"Let me guess: that's why you fall in love easily."

"touché." She winked at him.

His raven-hair touched the headrest, Azriel closing his eyes. "How many boyfriend are we talking about?" he asked casually.

"You sure you wanna know?"

"Mmh."

"Most people prefer not to know about their partners past..." she taunted.

Azriel opened one eye, giving her an incredulous look. "You are so full of shit. You literally spent," he looked at his watch, "one hour and twenty minutes interrogating me."

It was her time to shrug, playing it cool. "I'm confident like that." Bullshit. Freaking curious enough to put George to shame, that's what she was.

"Stop stalling." Damn it, he knew her antics.

"Since you insist. Don't go crying later!" she gave him a last warn, putting a hand on her chest. "Just so you know, I'm extremely loyal. Got my first boyfriend entering high school, dated him till senior year. We broke up, I started dating this other guy in college, we were together till I turned twenty-four – he kind of traumatized me a little, but that's story for another time. Then I met this cute guy on tinder, he was stinky rich, but I think his mom wanted to bone him." Elain grimaced, using air quotes to repeat the nasty words she had to hear. "That lady was not happy to see her 'precious golden boy' with a 'lousy photographer'. I am not lousy. A goddamn amazing photographer, that's wha I am. Dumped his ass and won a contest later that month, thank you very much, mama Vanserra.”

Six months after breaking up with Graysen, Elain got into a bad funk. She missed intimacy, missed sex, and the worst part, she missed Graysen. To avoid crawling back to him, she tried a dating app, finding Lucien Vanserra on the first swipe, who she got involved with for three blissful months. Then his crazy mother started wanting to compete with Elain for her son’s love and affection. The woman acted like her son was her late husband. Yikes.

“And?” Azriel urged to go on, his voice bringing her out of memory lane.

“And what?”

"You said you dated a lot, I'm waiting for the "lot" part."

Elain grabbed the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric. "How dare you criticize my lovely love history? You never had a girlfriend. You are like, like – a dating novice!”

Azriel made sure his eye roll was a deliberately slow one, grabbing her chin to bring her closer. “You dated two guys and a half.”

"Why a half?"

"You never dated the third asshole."

“Still dated more than you.”

“Questionable.”

Elain snorted, impressed with his audacity to judge her when he never managed to get a single girl to date him. Before she could tell him to shove it, Azriel ran his thumb across her lower lip. He knew just how to shush her, because Elain went inert instantly.

“Are you done interrogating me, now?” She nodded. “Or do you wish to reminisce about your harem a little longer?” She shook her head.

There was no need to think about a witty reply. Azriel wasn’t actually interested in an answer, didn’t wait for on either.

He kissed her with all the patient she didn’t have, taking his time in tasting her lips; and there they were without fail, the goddamn fireworks blowing behind her lids like they did every time he touched her. Elain melted into him. His kiss was unhurried, throughtful, lips moving with the same tender assurance of the hand palming the beck of her neck, finger tangling in the waves at her nape, tugging in delicious way that was neither too harsh nor too tight. Perfect. His touch was perfect.

Elain endure the slow tempo the best she could, the kiss lingering like the sweetest of punishments. She let him conduct the pace till she was tingling all over, goosebumps coating her skin, Then she exploded, untamed and unleashed.

Where Azriel was calm, Elain was the storm. She wasted no time with gentleness, sticking her tongue in his mouth to deepen the kiss, delighting in his small flinch of surprise. Elain throw her arms around his neck like a desperate drowning girl in search of a life jacket to cling to, Azriel shuddering under her embrace, matching her wild pace with no struggle. Elain loved how versatile he was, changing from one type of kiss to another with easy, allowing her to guide him, to coach him as she saw fit. Heavy panting soon filled the air, the peculiar couple getting lost in the erratic kiss. When Azriel released her, his voice was lower than usual, rough on the edges, a black ocean smothering the beautiful hazel of his eyes.

"Is the experienced up to your standards, madam?"

She barely nodded, lipstick smudged all over, eyes glazed with need, searching for his mouth again.

Few were the things capable of turning Elain silent and compliant.

Azriel's kiss was on top of that list.

Elain sidestepped into the conference room carrying four colorful binders, arms feeling like jelly under the heavy weight, huffing from the small walks from the room to her desk. Okay, maybe the material wasn’t that heavy and she was the one out of shape. Christ, she needed to exercise more frequently. Elain could not remember the last time she did some cardio, except for running to the bakery two blocks down from her place. Fine, she needed to exercise, period.

She dropped her cargo on the long table, organizing the variety of fabric swatches, reference data and sponsoring proposals Nuala left in her care, snapping a quick photo of it all. Nuala caught a nasty flu she was trying to nurse before their business trip, leaving Elain, Miguel and Azriel to run their last meeting without her.

Speaking of Azriel…

Elain glanced expectantly at her boss, who was casually leaning against the table, focused solemnly on his tablet, scribbling over the interview draft Miguel presented to him. The assistant writer stood by him, eyes moving furiously from the object to his boss face, fidgeting like a child who waits for parental approval. These days Elain wasn’t much different, constantly rocking on her heels as she waited to snatch his attention.

The reminiscence of daylight seemed to clung to him, highlighting the deep navy of his dress shirt, the color making his profile stand out. The top button was undone, giving her the smallest glimpse of bronzed skin, Elain biting her lip as she remembered what was hidden by his shirt. At the height of his second button laid a little purple bruise, made by her. Elain sighed. How come he was able to stand there, doing nothing but breathe and be serious, and look as good as a seasoned model posing for the camera? Life was unfair. Well, not so unfair since she was the one who got to enjoy this big, sexy, handsome,

“Did your toddler redacted the last questions?” Azriel’s sharp remark interrupted her silent inspection of him. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t have to, directing his piercing stare at Miguel, who scratched his head, saying,

“I don’t have kids.”

“Figured. A toddler knows better than to ask Wang personal questions. Keep it professional, focus in the progress of her career, she’s prone to be volatile if you don’t. Tis last page is useless. Do it again.”

“Yes, boss man. Will do.”

Behind them, Elain rolled her eyes at Azriel for ruining her sweet memories with his unwanted crudeness. Moments like this, she didn't like him one bit. Azriel wasn't lying when he said it was hard for him to connect with people, and once he got hyperfocused in his job that little detail shined light a beacon. The man was in serious need of an interpersonal relationship coach. Learning the difference between constructive criticism and public humiliation would do wonders to his character.

Elain slammed a clipboard on the table, making a grand show of pretending to sneeze three time, just to slip in the words, “quit,” “being,” “a jerk,” in between. She could hear Azriel taking a deep breath before his neck turned like the little girl in the exorcist.

“Excuse me?”

“You should say “bless you, love”, but thanks.”

Elain could swear the lights flickers. "Are you doing that?" Shuddering, she made the sign of the cross.

Azriel scowled harder. “Are you out of your meds again?”

Oh, the nerve of this man. Liked being his girlfriend her ass. Elain gave him the sweetest smile she could muster, ending up looking like a psycho on the loose.

“Of course not, Marino. I have my medicine right here,” she pinched his cheeks, Miguel sucking his lips inwards to avoid laughing. “How could I look at this face and not feel healthy and energized? Don’t be a jerk, love, scowling gives you winkles, and God did not make me this hot to date a wrinkled old geezer.”

“I’m not old.”

"You are. Age is a state of mind, and yours show in your grumpiness." She tapped his cheek lightly, smoothing the frown from between his brows. "Relax for me," she said, then, a bit quieter, "that sounds awfully sensual doesn't it? Relax for me."

He seemed peeved, but Elain was positive he wanted to laugh. She could see his lips twitching in the corner.

"You know I'm still your boss, right?"

"So you've told me. Now stop scolding the poor boy, I don't his beautiful soul to be crushed by corporate world. You done with the interview, yeah?" she pushed the remaining binders closer to Azriel, explaining their contents. “Nuala asked to pass this along. This one has partnership proposals. She said to email her if you have any doubt, she’ll be glue to her phone in case you need her. This one has secured sponsors. Take a look at these gorgeous Jacobsen settees we can display on set.” She flipped all the way to page twenty-four, showing him a variety of furniture to choose from, watching him overseeing the selection with keen attention.

“They look rigid,” Azriel commented absently.

“You know all about that, don’t you?” See? Easy to provoke. “I’m aiming for uncomfortable. Is part of the first act. Nuala and I were playing with a couple of scenarios, and I did some sketches. My goal is for it to be hard on the edges, unpleasant, transitioning into a more and welcoming atmosphere once her apprentices come into the picture, color bleeding in. They are her missing piece, her equilibrium.”

She located the blue binder, spreading it open in front of her boss, displaying all the confidence and grace that she had mastered dealing with her previous clientele. Anxious brides needed reassurance, and Elain was an expert in gving it, gently guiding them into her vision with steady steps, making sure to accommodate their hidden desires to create the perfect shooting.

She showed them the pages, giving visual representation of how the model would look in the set, how the poses would convey the message. Azriel analyzed each page quietly, lost in contemplation, contrary to Miguel, who silently shook beside him, clutching his fist to his mouth.

Elain reached in front of Azriel to slap Miguel's arm. “What are you laughing at?”

“You said you sketched.”

“I did.”

“Angelita, you drew a bunch of stick people.” He lifted the tip of a paper, trying to discern what the heck she had done there. Lots of circles and lines, that's what. “It’s impossible to understand this.”

Elain gasped out loud, dramatically clutching a hand to her chest, gluing the back of her other hand to her forehead.

"Here we go," Azriel muttered, getting out of her way.

Elain staggered towards Miguel, clinging to his jacket, shaking him left and right.

“My own friend. My brother in army!”

“Brother in arms.” Azriel corrected with a shake of the head.

Elain ignored him, way too deep into her theatrical redemption of a betrayed person, continuing her absurd discourse.

“My ally! Here I was, defending your maidenly honor, and you, you! You throw me under the bus! Thou shalt not kill, Miguel, thou shalt not kill! Why do you murder me like this! Have you no compassion? Have you no honor? Why do you betray me, why?" With a final cry, she sobbed into his shirt.

"Alright, alright. Get up now." Miguel held Elain up right, who was still pretending to be weak on the knees. “Couldn’t you have cut some old mags or something?”

“And give you some else’s vision?” her face twisted with horror, Elain pushing away from him to clean her fake tears. “No, thank you. This is an original shooting, with original concept, so we needed original drawings.” She tapped her index on the paper. “You have to look with your third eye, friend.”

“I have that?”

“Everyone does.” Fixing her hair in a ponytail, Elain wiggled herself between the two man, preparing to give a class they would not forget. “Pay attention, por sabor.”

“Por favor," he corrected amused.

“That’s what I said. Look, these are all different poses, kneeling, standing, laying down. I gave my blood for the stick people! Look! Here, she’s falling from a cliff into darkness, see, her arms are trying to grab salvation. Here, they are lying down, bored to death, in desperate need of something new, excitement. Then, boom! Wangsalvation. And here comes Vera," her passionate speech mellowed, for a shadow was casted over her, a strong frame trapping her between his body and the table. Elain wondered if Azriel had an inner furnace, because he always seemed to run hotter than her.

She cleared her throat, struggling to remain professional. "Vera is – Vera...? Yes! Vera. Vera will be waiting for her pupils, reaching her hand like the statue of a goddess, teaching her ways to the youth.”

The heat of Azriel's body seeped into her naked arms as he gently took a hold of her wrist, long soft fingers wrapping around her skin. Mouth-watering muscles flexed as guided her, making her point at something she could not care less.

"What's that one?"

Elain licked her lips, imagining how much prettier he’d look holding both of her wrists, pinning her hands above her head, binders dropped to the ground because she’d be the one spread on this table, harsh hazel eyes darkening with desire as he bent over–

“Models in opposite sides, touching each other’s faces.” She mumbled bewildered.

“Mmmh.” His purring vibrated on her back, Elain gulping at the awareness that she was straight out resting against his front. Her cheeks heated, eyes darting quickly to the witness in the room, only to find him distracted by his phone.

“Hey, Jerry read my email. He'll see me first thing tomorrow,” Miguel said casually. Jerry was their chief-editor, responsible for all the journalist aspects of an issue. “I’ll cut the last page and brainstorm new questions tonight. Maybe he can finish proofreading before we fly out.”

Azriel's hand moved from her wrist to her waist, resting casually at her hip. "I rather you proofread the winner's interview first. Wang is the last to go, there’s time to fix hers.”

“You sure?”

The two exchanged more words Elain didn’t pay an ounce of attention to, too busy digesting her latest daydream. The fact that her fantasies were now starred by a different Marino still caught her by surprise sometimes.

Surely, all that making out, like a couple of unsupervised horny teenagers, was messing with her brain chemistry. Because Azriel went from being nothing but a cranky boss, who made her blood boiling with impatience after their interactions, to be the protagonist of her x-rated story lines, sending her spiraling simply because he touched her wrist –not even her ass or titties, her goddamn wrist! This man’s touch needed to be studied.

The more she thought about it, the clearer it got: Elain not only liked to be Azriel's girlfriend; Elain liked Azriel.

A kiss on top of her head startled Elain back in the present, Miguel long gone from the room.

“I can smell your neurons burning.” Azriel joked, smelling her hair, kissing the same spot from before. The little excited thing in her chest went crazy. “Why is your heart beating so fast?” he whispered in her ear, “I can feel it in my chest.”

Crap, he could feel it?

Elain groaned.

At first, she thought Azriel Marino didn't had a flirtatious bone in his body, later, she understood he simply wasn't into cheesy reckless pick up lines like her. No, Azriel enjoyed other ways to take her off her feet, generally pointing things a gentleman should pretend he hadn't noticed! Sometimes it felt like this man was put on this earth to humble her. Christ, how was she supposed to flirt her way out this? Elain was in need of a Scotty to beam her up and away from here, before this man discovered her weakness. He was already way to powerful for her taste.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that my boss being inappropriate during office hours.”

“Now, she remembers I'm her boss. And you are inappropriate all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird when you do it. I'm the funny partner in this relationship.”

Azriel used her jeans beltloops to turn her around till her ass was pressed on the table “Are you?” Since when had this man confused face been so adorable? "You are fun, but funny, tsk tsk. Funny is a big stretch."

His fingers dug in her in waist, cutting her cognitive abilities, stopping her from registering the insult. Was he going to put her up the table? God, she hoped he would. "Cute shirt."

Elain looked down on her white tee design, where two potted plants were having a conversation. One saying, "Aloe, how are you?", the other "Hey, long Thyme no see."

"Thanks."

He traced her lower lip, muttering. "No lipstick, today?"

Before she could control herself, Elain let her tongue dart outside, meetind the pad of his thumb. "Didn't want to smear you," she replied in a daze.

"Glass walls. Office hours." Came his low warning.

"Technically, we are past office hours. I'm friends with Marie, you know, the cleaning lady. She gave those glass walls an extra glow this morning, I can guarantee you'll find no germs in it. Now, if you wanna put some germs in it, I have a few ideas about what we could press there. Who. You. could press there. But I should warn you, the dress code suggestion may get a little skimpy."

There was no hidding his smile now, except he wasn't amused. His smile was wicked, smoldering hazel eyes hiding delirious promises. Azriel cleaned her saliva over her cheek, finding her neck.

Knuckles rapped against the glass wall; a melodious voice calling his name. Worse, calling him by a pet name.

"Az." The affectionate sugary tone made Elain grimace. And she wasn't the only one.

One blink and the burning desire in his eyes morphed into anxiety.

"Az?" His face paled. As if he couldn't believe the sound reaching his ears. Elain looked from him to the gorgeous woman in the doorway, checking her from feet to face.

Black stilettos, red strapless jumpsuit and sunglasses greeted her. Manicured red coffin nails clutched a tiny mini purse, beach blonde hair gathered at her nape in a low, elegant, ponytail, once again making Elain feel inadequate in her jeans and tee. Morrigan took her sunglasses off, giving Elain a view of her red swollen eyes.

"Az... Azriel." Her trembling voice calling his full name seemed to wake up Azriel from his trance. He withdrew from Elain completely, turning to Morrigan at last

"Hi." Uncomfortable silence stretched when he didn't greet her back. If Morrigan was saddened by his stiff reaction, she did not let it show. "Can we talk? Please. I really need to speak with you."

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