Chapter 2 The Gifts

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The elevator doors parted with a mechanical sigh, ushering Rochelle into the basement of Tolland Towers. The dim lighting and sterile stillness made the space feel like a set piece from a horror film. She stepped out gingerly, heels clicking along the linoleum floor as she moved down the narrow aisle toward a lone desk at the end of the corridor.

"Please don't be scary," she whispered under her breath.

As if summoned by her muttered plea, a voice barked from nowhere.

"How may I help you?"

Rochelle jumped and spun around. A small man with a deeply etched scowl stared at her over the rim of thick glasses. Trying to reorient herself, she forced a polite smile.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your work," she said. "I'm here to pick up a few items for Mr. Tolland."

Damien's words echoed in her head: He can be rather eccentric. Rochelle mentally bookmarked the reminder: never doubt Damien's warnings.

The man gave a guttural grunt and looked her up and down. "And you are?"

"Ms. Arden. Mr. Tolland's new assistant."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the back room.

Rochelle seized the opportunity to pull out her phone and shoot a quick message to her best friend.

Rochelle: *Girl, everyone here gives me the creeps, except Damien.*

The reply came within seconds.

Lila: *First-name basis? Spill! What's happening? Who's happening?!*

A knowing smile crept across Rochelle's lips just as the clerk returned, pulling her back into the moment.

"I suppose the idea of working here at Tolland Inc excites you," he said dryly.

Where did he come from?! she wondered, startled by how quietly he moved.

"It's a little different from what I'm used to," she replied, recovering, "but it's a welcome change."

He set a dark, ornate box on the desk in front of her. "Inside are Mr. Tolland's requested items. Pay close attention."

Rochelle nodded.

The man lifted the first item: it was a beautifully preserved dagger with intricate carvings etched into its blade. He handed it to her.

"This dagger is for Mr. Miles Corbin. Circa 2100 BC. Very rare. Very priceless."

Her eyes widened. "Really? From 2100 BC? For real?"

He fixed her with a flat stare. "Do I look like a jokester?"

She examined the weapon with new reverence, then placed it gently back into the box.

Next, he held up a glossy, iridescent artifact.

"This is a scarab. Ancient Egypt. Around 1400 BC. Goes to Ms. Seraphine Voss."

"From..."

"1400 BC. For real. Pay attention, Ms. Arden."

She swallowed hard, embarrassed at how wide her jaw had dropped. She refocused as he retrieved the final item-a slender glass vial filled with crimson powder.

"Mandrake extract," he said with gravity. "Requested by Mr. Tolland himself. Handle with care. Understood?"

Rochelle nodded quickly, repeating the names and matching items under her breath to commit them to memory.

"Think I've got it," she said, carefully placing the dagger, scarab, and vial back into the box.

"Don't mess it up."

"Okay, sheesh."

With that, she headed back to the elevator, gripping the box with both hands. Once inside, she tucked the box under one arm, pulled out her phone, and hovered the camera over the vial to run a Google Lens search.

"Huh..." she murmured as the results began to load.

She tucked the vial and phone into her coat pocket just as the elevator opened to the executive wing.

---

"...and over time, we hope to expand our influence in the broader market."

Rochelle stepped into the room as Damien wrapped up a conversation. He sat confidently at the head of a polished mahogany table. To his right sat a sharply dressed man in his fifties with a sly smile, and a woman whose age seemed frozen in time; impossibly graceful, ageless, and coldly beautiful.

"Ah, Rochelle! Come in," Damien said warmly. "Sera, Miles, this is Rochelle, my new assistant."

"You go through them quickly," Sera observed with an amused lilt. Her voice was smooth, almost musical. Her eyes locked onto Rochelle's with uncanny precision, and in an instant, Rochelle felt the intrusion, like someone sifting through her thoughts. She didn't resist.

"Such a beautiful young girl," Miles said with too much enthusiasm, his eyes raking over her in a way that felt far too familiar. "Quite the find, Damien."

Rochelle stiffened.

"Miles," Damien warned sharply, "keep your hands to yourself."

"Damien, come now, I'm only admiring her beauty."

"Admire quietly, and from a respectful distance."

Sera chuckled and turned to Rochelle. "I'm Seraphine Voss. But please, call me Sera." She offered a polite nod, which Rochelle returned.

"Sera's not big on physical contact, unless absolutely necessary," Damien added, half-joking.

"Heh, right," Rochelle said with a nervous laugh.

"Alright, what do you have for us?" Damien asked.

Rochelle stepped forward, placing the box on the table. She pulled out the scarab and handed it to Sera.

"Ah," Sera breathed, admiring the relic. "A lovely addition to my collection. Thank you, Damien."

"You're welcome, Sera."

Next, Rochelle presented the dagger to Miles, who whistled low.

"A belle with a switchblade?" he grinned. "Sign me up any day." He examined the weapon, nodding in appreciation. "See? Kept my hands to myself."

Damien gave a curt nod. "Good for you."

Then he turned to Rochelle. "Thank you. That'll be all."

---

Back at her desk, Rochelle sent another text.

Rochelle: *Damien's associates are just as chilly as he is.*

Lila: *You need me to call in that getaway car? I still have them on speed dial.*

Rochelle: *I'm good. Just wanted to say I'll be a little late. He's still in his meeting, and I don't want to dip out on my first day. But I'm starving!*

Lila: *Can't you step out for a snack? I'll make dinner just in case.*

Rochelle: *You're a godsend. Thank you, babes!*

"Tell me you weren't waiting for me, Rochelle..."

The familiar voice broke her concentration. Damien stood nearby, his tone unexpectedly warm. Something about the way he looked at her stirred a flutter in her chest.

"I waited... in case you needed anything."

"You're good for tonight. Log off."

"Okay."

She began shutting down her system and tidying up.

"See you tomorrow, sir-Damien."

"Be safe, Rochelle."

---

Later that night, Rochelle returned home to find Lila curled up on the couch. As soon as the door closed behind her, Lila popped up.

"Girl, spill!" she demanded.

Rochelle gave a tired laugh. "It's only 10:30."

"Still! I need the tea."

With dramatic flair, Rochelle dropped her bag by the door and collapsed beside her friend. "Damien is hot as hell."

As she slipped off her jacket, something clinked in her pocket. She reached in, and froze.

"Oh my God. I totally forgot to give him the mandrake extract."

Before Lila could respond, Rochelle was back in her coat and halfway out the door.

"I'll be back soon!" she called.

---

Outside, Rochelle flagged a cab. "Tolland Towers, please."

The driver nodded and pulled into traffic.

---

Meanwhile, back at the tower, Damien stood in his office with Olivia, his longtime associate. She was clearing the table for one of their usual private meetings.

"Olivia, I apologize for hijacking the interview earlier," he said. "But... something drew me to her. The moment she stepped into the lobby."

"It's alright," Olivia replied with a soft smile. "You wouldn't have if it wasn't necessary. I understand."

"Are you ready for tonight's session?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

---

Rochelle stepped through the glass doors of the tower lobby, clutching the vial. She made her way to the elevator and punched the button for the executive floor. The cab whooshed upward, the lights overhead zipping past like falling stars.

Within moments, she was back in the familiar, high-gloss hallway. She passed her empty desk and approached Damien's door, still slightly ajar.

"Damien, I forgot to give you the-"

She stopped cold.

Her voice caught in her throat. Time seemed to freeze as her eyes adjusted to the scene before her.

Damien stood hunched over a woman in one of the leather chairs. His green eyes met Rochelle's, and they were glowing. Blood streaked down his lips. His mouth was latched to the woman's neck, fangs bared, his jaw unhinged in an impossibly primal way.

Rochelle's world tilted.

"Oh. My. God."

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