Seven ◑ The Dinner

Lucille never thought she'd say this, but working at Paradigm Publishing was actually quite enjoyable.

Once she'd immersed herself in the paperwork, the job itself was surprisingly interesting. The market analysis for the curated lists was a long and drawn-out process, but it kept her busy brain tethered. She'd forgotten how a real job could make people feel accomplished.

While she'd still insist on adding a sprinkle of class and grandeur into the office, working there and observing people was more entertaining than staying at home and worrying about the damn candle.

Or at least, it was the lesser evil. That didn't mean that Paradigm Publishing wasn't a shithole.

The days that passed allowed Lucille to confirm that the people there were cold. Vile. For the entire week, no one but Justin the front desk dude and her assistant Shanry had bothered to talk to her. And she knew well that these two were only doing it out of duty or pity.

Shanry was definitely doing it out of duty. Working with and for Lucille was the sole purpose of her paycheck. Never had she looked Lucille in the eye when Lucille had asked for files and additional information on the things she'd been working on. Once, Lucille had made the mistake of engaging her in small talk, asking her about herself and her experience in the job. Shanry had refused to come near her desk since then.

As for Justin . . . well, his interaction probably wouldn't even qualify under pity. Lucille was pretty certain that he had a crush on her, and that didn't sit well with her at all.

The only other person she was counting on for any social attention was Cade, but he'd been mostly gone during the week.

After he'd left her the task of drafting the list for his review and approval, he'd just disappeared. Only twice had she seen him, but his appearances had never lasted for more than half an hour. Again he'd be rushing to go God knows where, with God knows who.

Lucille had been tempted to check with his secretary, but that would be too inappropriate. And risky, given that she wasn't chums with anyone yet.

It didn't help that she was particularly unpopular with Martin, the PR dude who did nothing but gloat and complain all day. He seemed to have extended his bitterness for Cade towards Lucille, giving her a permanent mark of no-go friendship zone.

In all honesty, though, Lucille was alright with staying away from all these people. Like, fuck them, right? They weren't worth her time. However, their closed-up culture was seriously hindering her chances of digging up any Cade-related dirt. It wasn't every day that she'd stumble upon two blabbering ladies in the bathroom. That shit was a rare occurrence.

And so she was left with no choice. She'd have to extract secrets straight from the source himself.

How she was supposed to pull that off, she had no idea yet, but she was open to even the unorthodox methods. Flirting up a storm, torture, using magic—anything.

It was Friday today, which marked the fifth day of Lucille's employment at Paradigm Publishing, but she'd done nothing related to her real mission yet. This made her so anxious that it took her nearly an hour to get ready for work. She had no idea why she suddenly got the urge to dress to the nines, but she didn't care.

Lucille was calling it: today she'd get something done. Today would be different.

But of course, as the day progressed, she learned that today was nearly a perfect photocopy of all the past days. Her heart was weeping.

Justin beaming and wishing her a good day? Check. Everyone clearing the elevator as she boarded in to get to the top floor? Check. Random male employees glancing at certain body parts as she walked past them? Check. Martin making snide, passive-aggressive comments about her love for everything red? Check. Shanry shifting her gaze like a pigeon whenever talked to? Check. Staying in her desk during breaks because she was friends with no one? Big bloody check.

Cade's empty office and absolutely zero responses to emails? The biggest, bloodiest check.

And all Lucille could ever say was fuck, fuck, fuck—

"Er, are you alright, Miss Lucille?" Shanry suddenly asked, her face creased with worry and a bit of fear. "Is there something you need?"

Wait. Had Lucille said all those things out loud?

"I'm good, Shanry," she replied, keeping her tone nice and casual and hopefully sane-sounding. "Is there a problem?"

"No." Shanry bit her lip. "It's just that you were saying. . . ."

She faltered, her eyes glued at something behind Lucille. With her heart skipping, Lucille turned around, only to see Cade himself standing apprehensively by the doorway. His eyes had been fixed on her, but he quickly looked away the moment she'd moved to face him, his cheeks going pink.

"Good afternoon," he said, rapping his knuckles against the door frame to call everyone's attention. "Hello? Listen up. I came by to inform you that the company is having a dinner party tonight to welcome our new member."

Martin huffed, spun in his creaky swivel chair, and shot a glare at Lucille. "Didn't know you were so special."

"Me neither, but I guess I am special," Lucille retorted jokingly, but her hands were itching to grip the man's neck.

Cade's light aura dropped visibly, but he ignored Martin's comment. "We'll be meeting at the Palazzio Hotel Restaurant at eight o'clock. See you all."

With that, he promptly walked away. Martin broke through the murmur in the room by saying, "Lucille seemed to have earned herself a place of honor. Haven't you, Lucille?"

Lucille heard nothing. She'd just thought of a way to turn that dinner into something worthwhile.

◑≡◑≡◑≡◑

"You look great," a woman Lucille vaguely recognized from the Acquisitions Team said patronizingly. "I love your outfit. It's so . . . stunning."

That was the seventh compliment Lucille had received upon arriving at the Palazzio Hotel Restaurant, and as with the others, the latest one didn't feel genuine. She had a hunch that the woman wanted to say something stronger and less empowering than 'stunning', but she didn't really care.

This dinner was for her, after all. Might as well own it by wearing this skin-tight, low-cut maroon overall. The jacket she'd paired with it was just decorative.

And so far, it was doing what it was supposed to do, which was to direct attention to her.

The proof? The insincere, gruffly-delivered compliments, Justin's tongue basically lolling out of his mouth, and Cade barely able to concentrate on his salad.

Mission accomplished.

"Thank you," Lucille replied with a smile, gracefully taking a sip of her wine. "You look fantastic as well."

The employees of the company occupied numerous tables in the small restaurant they'd rented out for the evening. It was a perfect venue for an office gathering, with its low-key wooden furniture, black marble floors, and muted yellow orbs of light suspended in the textured ceiling. The Irish-style bar counter was teeming with endless drinks, most of which was being consumed by Martin, who'd insisted on being sat with Lucille, Cade, Justin, Shanry, and a couple more others.

Due to his gruffness and the overall weird composition of their group, their table ended up to be the quietest and the most awkward.

It didn't help that Martin was still knocking back shots.

Cade looked like he couldn't wait to leave, but he was trying to be jolly for Lucille's sake. "So, you've been living in New York for a long time?"

"Born and raised here," Lucille lied smoothly. "I did travel a lot with my parents, though. We stayed in different places too, but only because of their leisure stuff."

"Wow." Shanry looked interested, as well as the other women. "I can't imagine how glamorous that is."

"Well, it's not really that glamorous. And they passed away three years ago—"

"And left you a hefty trust fund, apparently," Martin interjected with a leer. "That's why you feel like you're so important."

What little noise their group had instantly vanished with that one line. The others looked at Lucille as they were feeling bad on her behalf, but she herself was cheering Martin on.

His nonstop drinking urge was caused by her magic. She was counting on him to be ten times his rude self.

But of course, Lucille had to sell the victim role. She glanced at Cade as though to appeal for help, and immediately he channeled his inner knight and said, "Martin, that's enough. Don't get any more drinks—"

"You may have gotten the managerial position, Linden, but I still don't take orders from you."

The two men stared at each other, and Lucille could swear she saw lightning shooting out from both of their eyes.

"How about you guys?" Lucille assumed the air of someone desperately trying to steer a conversation forward. "I want to know more about you. How did you all end up working at a publishing—?"

"What kind of a stupid question is that?" Martin snorted. His entire face was red now. With his grimace, he looked like a mean, demented, and alcoholic version of Santa Claus. "You should still be in school, Lucille. You know nothing."

She laughed quietly in feigned nervousness. "Sir, I think you're drunk. Please put the—"

"Fuck you," Martin snapped. "Don't tell me what to do."

"She's not trying to push you around," Cade told him. "She's only pointing out the facts."

"Pointing out facts, blah, blah," Martin mocked. "You're so eager for a woman you can't even see straight. You're disgusting."

Shanry dropped her fork on her plate. "Um, guys, please stop it. People are staring—"

"Let them stare." Martin's bitterness was almost bulging out of his face. "I'm tired of being quiet, of saying nothing. Someone needs to tell Linden that his decisions don't mean shit—"

"Martin," Cade said exasperatedly. "For once, can't you behave yourself?"

"I'll behave if you stop hiring idiots to do my fucking job.”

Well, that was extreme, wasn't it? Lucille was basically orchestrating all of this, but she couldn't help feeling a bit annoyed.

Justin and the others were glancing back and forth between the three of them, all wearing expressions that clearly translated to: I want to go home now.

Lucille wanted to cackle. This was so juicy that she wished she'd taken a video, but she decided it would be best to stay in character.

In a nice, let-me-help-you-poor-dear manner, she reached across the table and tried to take the glasses of alcohol from Martin. "Mr. Schultz, please don't—"

"Don't touch me!" he snarled, and in an intensity that none of them anticipated, he slapped her hand away.

The effect of this was instantaneous, not only on Lucille's hand, which was now stinging. Everyone around their table either gasped or flinched. Cade shot to his feet to pull Lucille away, his face taut with suppressed rage.

However, as Lucille expected, Martin wasn't done with her yet.

Just as she was about to sit back down, he grabbed the mug full of beer and threw its contents in Lucille's direction—ice and all.

The fizzing liquid spattered all over her chest, the temperature making her inhale sharply. Fuck, it was cold. It soaked through her jacket and seeped right into her overall, slowly spreading through the fabric. The tips of her hair were dripping. She could feel dozens of pairs of eyes focused on her, from the people around their own table to the other employees sitting far away. Even the staff of the restaurant were gaping at her now. The place had gone almost completely silent.

Mission accomplished, yes. But now it was time for the win. Oscars-worthy performance coming in three, two, one. . . .

Lucille blinked repeatedly, summoning tears from out of nowhere. In the softest, most fragile voice she could muster, she muttered, "Excuse me."

Then she gathered her purse, got to her feet, and began to walk away from the deafeningly silent scene, suppressing a smirk.