Vikki

Idon't know what happened to the troll from the corridor in the club, the one who generated a heat within me that meant I temporarily lost control of my senses.

Whoever he was, he's gone. In his place, I have a cigar smoking arsehole who seems to be more concerned about protecting his hasty investment.

But then I always get the wrong end of the stick. Ever since I was a teenager, none of my crushes were returned. They didn't even know I existed. At university, there were a few one-night stands who swiftly disappeared.

The idea of love, for me, is laughable. I have to think of the money. I can finally be independent, my own person. Get the PHD in Upper and Lowerworld Relations I've dreamed of. Maybe travel to all those places I wanted to go, see the monsters, the worlds which fascinate me.

There is nothing between me and Max.

I fix myself a sandwich from his well-stocked fridge, eat it, clean up in the already spotless kitchen, then take the left hand passage he directed, picking up the bag Alyssia gave me on my way. The first door I try opens into a bedroom which has to be the size of my cottage. It's absolutely vast. I spot the bed and tiredness settles on me. I strip off the dress from the club, my bra, and my tights before falling into a marshmallow of pillows and duvets.

Something wakes me.I'm not sure what. The handy bedside clock says it's 5am. Surely Max can't be up yet?

It was way past midnight when we got back, after all. An icy hand runs down my spine. Maybe he's one of those businessmen who only need two hours sleep and work all the rest of the time, expecting their staff to do the same?

If that's the case, then I will be earning my money because I love my sleep. I could easily sleep till noon every day if I let myself. And in this bed, it would be entirely possible.

The sound comes again, and it doesn't strike me as being one coming from a business troll setting himself up for the day with a kale smoothie and a cigar.

I slip out of bed reluctantly, opening up the bag Alyssia gave me to see if there's something I can wear without having to put the dress from last night back on.

My hand slips through silk. I pull out a mass of it, the slippery fabric resolving into a night dress which would make a Hollywood starlet proud and a dressing gown to match.

I stare at the things for a short while. I've no idea what Alyssia was thinking or what else goes on in the Arcane, but just…wow.

Pulling the night dress over my head and shrugging on the gown, I tie it tightly around my waist and attempt to cover up the rather large amount of chest on show. Not a good look to be lurking around my new boss's home with the girls on show.

Out in the corridor, all seems quiet. The strange noise, a bit like an animal in pain now I come to think about it, is no more. I mean, it could have been the elevator mechanism, or a dream.

After all, this is completely and utterly not how I intended my evening ending…in someone else's bed. I chuckle a bit to myself at that joke.

Under foot, the carpet is plush and deep. It easily muffles my footsteps as I pad back to what is probably the main living area.

Dawn is breaking over the city and the colors which fire in through the huge double height windows, ones which take up an entire wall, are stunning. I find myself captivated for a few seconds before I check the area for one big, grumpy troll.

It's empty. Whatever the noise was, I decide, it's gone.

And I'm wide awake, so I may as well make some coffee.

The kitchen is well equipped. In fact it is vastly over equipped, with gadgets of every single kind. Four ovens set into a wall don't seem to have any controls. I can't tell where the hob is, but I'm guessing it's somewhere on the granite worktop on the kitchen island. As for a kettle, it doesn't seem to exist. After some searching, I finally open up a hidden area where there is a coffee machine, and after some considerable swearing, I get the thing going.

The sharp, dark smell of coffee fills the area, and it makes watching the sun rise quite magical.

Finally, I pour myself a cup, add some milk, and turn around to find Mr. Troll stood on the other side of the long island. I very nearly drop my hot drink as I squeak in alarm.

He's fully dressed in a dark three-piece suit, this time without the pinstripes. It fits him perfectly, skimming over his paunch (which I find a bit cute anyway) and making his shoulders look very impressive.

"I'm sorry." I attempt to cover my shock and embarrassment. "I didn't hear you. Would you like some coffee?"

He lowers his horns and glowers with those stunning eyes. I'm very slightly worried I've overstepped.

"You've made yourself at home," he says, finally, sliding onto one of the barstools on the opposite side of the island. It creaks under his weight.

"Is that a yes?" I counter.

"Yes. Cream, two sugars," he grunts.

This troll really knows how to live.

I make him his coffee and set it down in front of him. I watch as he inhales the steam, both huge hands encircling it. He takes a sip and sighs with pleasure. I find myself mesmerized as I watch how those pillowy lips wrap around his big tusks.

Something I should not be doing. I need to think about anything else other than his lips.

"So," I say. "Just what sort of work do you want me to do for you?"