Vikki

Max orders a bottle of wine as we sit in the comfortable snug. I feel a bit weird, given the last time I was here, I was serving, not being served, but Nevvik gives me a friendly wave, causing Max to growl.

"He was my work colleague!" I elbow Max in his ribs. "Behave."

"I do not like the idea of you being with any other male," he grumbles.

"I wasn't with Nevvik, an orc I knew for a mere couple of hours, unless you consider spilling most of a drip tray of lager over his shoes as some form of foreplay, which I can assure you, he didn't," I say.

Max grunts and taps his clawed fingers on his thigh, his eyes narrowing as he scans the room.

"Maxim!"

The troll from the ice sculpture event strolls out from behind one of the pillars in the snug. He grins at the pair of us as if we're goats and this is his bridge. In one hand he holds a glass filled with clear liquid and the way he stands suggests he's had a considerable amount of alcohol.

"Vulzal," Max says, his entire body strung taught like a bowstring.

"And you're here with your little female purchase," Vulzul says, the grin turning wolfish. "Such a sweet creature, no wonder you decided to take her to your bed."

If my skin wasn't already crawling, it's now attempting to get off my back and into the next county. I'm not sure how Vulzal does it, but I wish it was a power he didn't have.

"I'm here with my girlfriend," Max says, not even bothering to look at Vulzal.

"Is that your explanation? Well, well." Vulzal plonks himself down at our little table and proceeds to troll spread, one of his knees nudging my leg.

I do my level best to make sure he sees me move it away.

"No explanation needed. There was a misunderstanding. Vee…I mean Vikki and I have much in common. It was inevitable," Max grinds out.

"Wasn't it half a million pounds in common?" Vulzal queries with a dirty grin at me. "Very much the draw for a girlfriend, I would say. Certainly one worth sitting on a troll cock for," he adds.

I can feel anger bristling inside me, but at the same time, it's not untrue. Max is paying me, and we haven't exactly discussed what happens now we're sleeping together.

As much as I like my big bad growly troll, can I trust him? I mean really trust him? How does he know I'm not sleeping with him for the money?

"Plus," Vulzal plows on, regardless, "it's a great way to make her put up with you, isn't it? Take every inch I mean."

As if he has to make it any clearer what he's thinking about, he points at his crotch, and I feel sick.

"Our dining room is ready." Max gets to his feet in a sharp movement, pulling me up with him. "If we have any business to discuss, Vulzal, please make an appointment in working hours."

I'm swirled away from the snug and hustled up the wide, plushly carpeted main staircase, a vast edifice which is all marble and oil paintings, until we reach the first floor.

"I really don't like Vulzal," I say as Max finally relaxes his grip on my waist.

"You're not alone," Max replies. "Just forget about him. I'll report his conduct to the club, but then I can't see us spending time here anyway. I promise you won't have to deal with him again."

I want to tell Max I can fight my own battles, he doesn't have to rescue me every single time, but then I'm acutely aware of my position before I met my big troll. Near destitute and not sure if I could afford the petrol to get me home.

But I was surviving even if I wasn't thriving.

"Are we in here?" Max asks a passing goblin, who responds in the affirmative, opening a heavy wooden door.

I'm ushered inside, and any ideas I might have had about what a private dining room should look like are plucked straight from my head.

The room is high ceilinged, and the ceiling itself is stained glass in an Art Deco style, all swirls of blue and green, softly backlit. Teal colored velvet curtains cover a floor to ceiling window, and the entire place is paneled in a warm tawny wood and lit with candles everywhere.

The white linen covered dining table itself is long enough for eight, but two intimate settings have been placed at the head, where a double seat has been set up. Max leads me by the hand, and before we sit, he gently unclips the stole from around my shoulders and tosses it casually onto a nearby chair before lifting my hair to one side and dipping his head to kiss my bare skin.

"Whatever you want, just order it," he says. "I need to see to the meeting room."

"What do you want?" I ask, suddenly bereft of his touch.

"I'll have whatever you're having." Max gives me a heated look as he exits through another door in the panelling.

I sit down on the springy bench seat and smile to myself when I think of what Max did to me in the booth at Gravin's. It seems like it was a year ago, not two weeks.

It's two weeks where time seems to have stood still. Where I've worn clothes which cost more than a month's salary at my old job. Where I've eaten meals I'm sure cost more than my monthly rent, and where I've spent time with a troll who makes sure I get the utmost pleasure, every single time.

Not to mention the library and a basilisk who appears to have taken a shine to me.

My hand makes its way to the necklace I'm wearing, the one Max bought me at the department store, the one which cost as much as a small nation. and he insists I wear every time I go out in public.

It feels a little loose, and as I idiotically tug on it, the necklace drops from my throat and slithers over the satin of my dress onto the floor underneath the table.

"Shit!" I swear out loud.

The double seat is heavy, and I can't shift it back which means I have to follow the horribly expensive trinket down beneath the table cloth. It's with some horror I find an enormous diamond and ruby necklace has somehow disappeared. Nausea flows through me as I drop to my hands and knees on the thick carpet and hunt around with my fingers.

The nausea is replaced by a wave of relief as I spot something glinting a few feet away. How such a thing could have made it so far under the table is anyone's guess. I crawl towards the gemstones and have them in my hand when I hear the door open and Max's rich, deep voice fill the room.

"I'm pleased to have run into you, Alex. I've been meaning to schedule a meeting," Max says, and I can hear a change of inflection in his voice as he and the mystery person enter the room.

I'm halfway under the table. No matter what happens, this is going to look fucking weird, especially to one of Max's business associates.

"You haven't been to Arcane for a while," another deep voice, far too deep for a human, booms. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming back."

"I've had another project I've been dealing with. It's taken me away from my usual haunts," Max says and I stifle a giggle. "Have a seat, Alex."

A pair of legs, clad in a pinstripe I couldn't mistake anywhere else slides onto the bench seat, and I scuttle back on my butt as a chair opposite is pulled out and another set of legs, clad in dark pants but with a pair of scary, hairy feet protruding, appear.

The tablecloth is whisked back, and Max stares down at me for a single beat, then one of his lips quirks over his tusks.

"Have you eaten yet, Alex? I was just about to order dinner."