Vikki

"More?" Max says, sliding the plate of the most delicious profiteroles I've had in my life across the big coffee table to me.

"I can't," I groan, leaning back into the super comfortable wrap around couch and patting my stomach.

Max's eyes glitter at me. He inclines his head, tipping his horns to one side and pouting a little.

"Knock yourself out." I grin.

He pulls the plate back to his side and tucks in. Max was absolutely right, he does love good food, and this is good food. I am very impressed with the amount he's put away too.

I pick up the bottle of wine and offer it up. He forks another two profiteroles into his mouth and nods, so I pour another glass out and top mine up.

"Sorry about dinner," I say.

"I'm not. Any excuse to get takeout from Gravin's," he says, swallowing the last of the profiteroles and picking up his wine glass.

His waistcoat is undone a couple of buttons at the bottom, making his little pot belly bulge against his watch chain. It makes my full stomach feel a little squirmy when I find it rather cute he's come undone enjoying one of his self declared "vices."

Makes a difference from the buttoned up troll from this morning anyway.

"I think I need a PhD to work in your kitchen." I take a sip of my wine, which is very good too. "How do you manage it?"

Max, who is halfway through draining his glass of wine, eyes me.

"I don't," he admits. "I either eat out or order in."

"You what?" I choke on my laughter. "All that tech and you don't use it?"

"Never felt the need." Max shrugs, finishing off the rest of his wine and pouring the rest of the bottle out into his glass.

"Have you always lived here?" I ask.

Max takes a drink, puts his glass down, and flicks open the mother of pearl box in front of him on the table. It's filled, predictably, with cigars. He takes one, snips off the end with one of his tusks, and leans back as he lights it.

"Not always. About ten human years."

"Oh." I look around, my eyes catching on the massive portrait. He follows my gaze.

"It was a gift," he says with a glimmer of embarrassment. "From my uncle when I made my first billion."

So he has family but chooses to live alone.

"Interesting gift."

Max sighs. "Would you like a tour?"

"If I'm going to be living here as your companion, I think it would make sense if I knew my way around," I reply.

He heaves his huge frame out of the dint he's made on the couch, picks up my glass of wine, and hands it to me before lifting his own.

"We'll start in the library," he says.

"Library? You have a library?" I gasp. "I'm…I was going to be a PhD student, in Upper and Lowerworld Relations," I gabble out.

"Then such a student should see my library," Max says with a grin.

Max leads the way to the large spiral staircase, heavily carpeted, which takes us up to the mezzanine floor above the main living space. I've already been up here today. In fact it's where I came to have coffee and look out at the view (not that you can miss the view from anywhere in the main living area), so I know the two doors leading off the large space filled with more comfortable large furniture are locked.

Max presses on the handle of one door and it opens with a click. I try and fail to disguise my growl of annoyance.

"My security team insisted I have the apartment keyed to my skin signature," Max says apologetically. "I'll arrange for you to be added."

We enter a short passageway which smells of cedar and expensive carpeting, Max leading the way to another door at the far end. He opens it, and I follow him through.

"What the…" I stare around in absolute awe.

When he said library, I thought of a room with a few bookcases.

What I'm looking at is a veritable hall, lined with more books than I've seen in my entire life. It's set out on two levels, and high above us is a glass ceiling. We're on the second level and looking over the balustrade. I see there's a comfortable seating area below, filled with leather couches, low tables, and all surrounding yet another woodturning stove. It is everything a Victorian gentleman's library, nestled in his country pile, should look like and more. It's like something out of a romance book too.

"Do you like it?" Max asks. He has a smile on his face which suggests he loves my awe at his reveal.

"Shhhh!"

I jump out of my skin, knocking into my troll boss by complete accident.

"What was that?" I whisper. "Does this place come complete with a ghost?"

"That"—Max whips around and descends the wrought iron spiral staircase next to us—"was Olly."

I swallow down the last of my wine and follow him.

"What part of shhhh don't you understand?" A cross voice reaches me.

I peer over the fancy iron balustrade. Down below, stood glaring up at Max, is a creature I'm not sure I recognize.

"Come down." Max beckons me with his cigar. "Olly doesn't bite…much."

I make it down to the lower floor, and I'm faced with a pair of slit pupilled eyes set in a dark green scaly face. A forked tongue flickers out, tasting the air. The rest of this unusual creature is wrapped in what seems to be an enormous grey blanket.

"Olly is my librarian. He's a basilisk."

"Oh, hi." I hold out my hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Vikki."

Olly stares at me and hisses. Max rolls his eyes. "You need to get out more, Olly. Speak to some…someone, anyone, other than me and your precious books."

"I don't need to do anything of the sort," Olly snaps. "There's too much to do here anyway." He narrows his eyes at me. "Who is this, and what is she doing in my library?"

"This is Vikki. She is my companion, and I've given her full access to my library anytime she wants it," Max says, giving me a conspiratorial wink.

Olly opens his mouth to say something, and Max holds up the hand with the cigar clamped firmly between two fingers.

"I trust her, Olly. You should too."

Olly makes a growling, hissing sound under his breath. "Very well." He eyes me suspiciously, gives Max a glare, and scuttles off between the bookcases.

"Olly has been with me a long time," Max says with a wry smile as he looks around the library. "I found him, nearly blind and in a terrible state, out on Dartmoor a few decades ago. Like trolls, basilisks have a reputation which they do not deserve."

I stare after Olly, noting I have not been turned to stone or anything untoward.

"Do you have any more surprises for me, or can I explore for a bit?"

Max lowers himself into one of the comfortable looking couches and swings one leg over the other, taking a long drag on his cigar. He blows out a large smoke ring.

"Anything you want, little Vee."