12| Keep your willy wrapped

(Triggering warning: mention of suicide)

"Stop your boss," Ryan mouthed the words to Wes.

Wes shook his head. "Stop her," he mouthed back.

Ryan bit his lip pensively and found Wes imitating his actions, and he had a sudden urge to bite his lips instead.

"Shut the fuck up. You don't know shit. Don't act as if you do," Leona snarled like a maimed lioness ambushed in a penitentiary.

"Ronald willing died. It was a suicide." Tayson looked straight into her eyes.

He noticed how out of place she was. Her dark aura was brutally crashing against the luminosity of the apartment.

The mysterious woman was swathed in all black. An elegant velvety fabric embraced her skin as if the piece of cloth was just compelled for her. The leather gloves trapped her hands running just an inch below her elbows and it enraptured him by how tantalizing and luring she looked by tenting up her whole body. He couldn't even see her tattoos, just the chalky skin of her calves was visible.

"I wasn't aiming to tell you this. But I feel you deserve to know as that man seemed to have cared for you," Tayson said, tone soft and quiet. "It wasn't an accident. It had been confirmed from the detectives."

"How do you know that?" Leona inscrutably asked.

"He showed up to meet me on the night he had an accident." Tayson sighed. "He knew me since high school. For the past few months, I have been irking him about you. By that, I meant about Ebony. Of course, he didn't give me any scrap of information. I tracked you down on my own anyway, and now if you are wondering why he met me then it was because of this contract. He said he wanted you to work in Huxley Visions. I didn't know why he turned up with the contract, even I found it ridiculous and yet incredible. He just said it's because he was going to announce his retirement and wanted you in safe hands. He precisely claimed that he can't trust anyone with you, not even his son and handed these papers to me. He was drunk, so I offered to drive him back but he lied saying brought the driver. When I talked with the officers they said it's a clear suicide since his car went down from the bridge. He probably shifted you into the Huxley Visions cause he may want to make sure that you aren't abandoned or something. If I am not wrong, isn't he was the only one who knew who Ebony is? So, here's the official contract which states that Ebony- that's you-Leona Pierce, has been legally shifted to Huxley Visions for the next five years. Abide by it and if you don't-"

"If I don't-" she threw down the gauntlet.

Tayson shrugged. "I will reveal your identity ."

"You are screwing up with the wrong person, Tayson," she said, voice acute than the bayonet, gaze barbarous, but Tayson had formerly made up his mind get asphyxiated.

The man with grey-ish eyes smiled, nibbling on the tip of his index finger. "You are resisting the wrong person, Leona."

Leona flared at him, vehemence and ire sluicing her mind, and cutlasses were directed upright into his chest. In her flight of fantasy, she stabbed him thrice with her hair Zanzi. {Type of hair pin}

She squinted her eyes, knowing well that it was a dangerous game. The man in front of her knew her identity, the only thing that she cherished. But did he want to work here? What if it's some trap? "Again, why do you want to work with me? Better your answer satisfies me."

Tayson stared at her, the corner of his mouth skewed. "Your art is painful, beautifully broken, enticing mess." He paused, eyes meeting her. "Just like you."

Leona's cold aura slipped for a second under his smouldering gaze. He was voyaging way to her soul and she was hating the shiver sizzling her spine.

"Not convincing." Her soft voice rang like glaciers melting in his ears. "I am difficult to please, Tayson."

"You are desperate," he asserted, ready to pour all his admiration. "Desperate to tell the story through reds, then out of nowhere you splash black all over it and confuse the hell out of people. Your art is not something a person can understand, but it's something a person can feel. Strangely you bind souls by few glows of black and strokes of red. As much as I hate to admit it; you bind my soul too, deep inside your colours. I am not a man who's easily lured. My heart and mind are loyal to me, but I found that they are honestly traitors when it comes to your work. I am in love with your art, with your talent, and I would be enthralled to work with you, Leona."

The hush crept between them and Tayson grew anxious under her stare. She didn't blink, nor did she look even a bit impressed by his oh so amazing speech.

Oh, come on, if I had ever flirted with someone this sincerely, I might have been married already with two kids. Say something, woman!

"I like it." Leona twisted her neck to the sides and plaited her fingers that were decked out in refined leather. A cimmerian smile sizzled on her chatoyant lips, giving him a panorama of a deep dimple on her right saffron-tinted cheek.

Tayson's stomach somersaulted in the thrill and his heart walloped at her unforeseen switch of personality. She appeared no longer pissed but arcane. Her eyes dusked with the spine-chilling gleam.

"But I must say, you are not aware of how to attend a guest, Mr Huxley. It's disappointing."

"My apologies, Miss. Pierce. May I interest you in any beverage?" He asked, slightly alarmed by her ghostly smile.

"I couldn't refresh myself with caffeine. I need coffee before I commence interpreting the contract. You have a minute and thirty seconds to get my coffee, or I am walking out." She smiled, shooting arrows of her mysterious charms straight at him. "You can sue me."

Tayson briskly gestured his manager to move and clenched his jaw, perceiving she was fiddling with him. But he could just suck it up. He wanted her. He wanted the passion of her fingers to carve a masterpiece for him. For Tayson, his adamancy had always been preeminent than his selfdom.

"Your coffee will be served in your desired time, till then go ahead with reading the contract. I have a prior appointment," Tayson urged, glancing at the silver wrist watching wrapped around his wrist.

Leona just waved her hand. "Dude, first coffee, then the contract."

"You are childish, Leona," Tayson hissed, not being able to keep his mouth seal.

"So are you. You stole my fucking passport, asshole," she accused him with an eye roll.

"You left it behind. Not my negligence, baby cub," he said and the way her body reverted to the epithet gave him infinite pleasure.

"That's be-

"Coffee!" Wes shrieked, whizzing out of the kitchen. "The conversation is again heading in the improper direction. Let's not childish or asshole each other."

Leona accepted the cup of coffee and tout de suite took a sip of the battery acid, exhaling in assuagement.

"Black like your soul, isn't it?" He commented, rolling his tongue inside his cheek.

"Black soul is better than man whore soul," she replied, arching her perfect eyebrow and Wes coughed vigorously trying to evade the fact that she just declared those words.

Tayson smiled, merriment drizzling in his eyes. "Hmm, you did your homework about me? Cajoled to know."

"Nah, your face precisely shrieks that you can't commit. Too afraid to do that, aren't you?"

"Enough. Let's get to this." Tayson banged his palm on the contract, oppressively propelling it towards her.

The dark Rapunzel repose the mug on the table and leaned closer, looking at the vexed man. "You are so desperate to have me, Tayson."

Tayson shut his eyes, exhaling out his irritation and calming his nerves. It hadn't even been an hour and she was skyrocketing his nerves.

When his eyes flew open, the devil residing within him beamed. "What about you, Leona? So desperate to leave the country. Running away? Aren't you?"

He comprehended that he hit the nerve when her eyes strike with terror and mania to evanesce.

"Baby, If you don't know let me enlighten you that regarding Ronald's suicide, officers will try to reach you as you are the closest to him and the mystery to this world. Your identity is at hazard. But-" he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, "if you sign the contract with me without being troublesome, I will make sure your identification is secure. I won't let the police grill you about the matters."

Tayson just stared at her with a cocky grin but her face stayed expressionless, but he could tell that she was considering his perfect proposal. You got her, man. You got her.

She had no choice, after all, if she chose to reject Tayson, Leona would have to step out of her mantle, which she not even in billion next life wanted to.

Leona licked her lips, riveted in thoughts, and Tayson's eyes dart to her belligerent mouth. A mere thought of how it will be kissing those hot-blooded and fervid lips crossed his mind which swayed him up for good.

Have to confess, she's magically beautiful, he thought. But his inner voice screamed, And strangely destructive. Keep your damn willy wrapped!

Leona lowly skirled and beetled back on the splendid couch. "Cool. My one work will be charged for five million."

"That's too much!" Wes howled, out id nowhere, starting both, Tayson and Ryan.

"Ten," Leona shrugged.

Wes again snapped, "No, that's w-"

"Fifteen," she sharply squeezed him out.

"Oh god! B-"

"Twenty."

"Damn! She's crazy! I am out of this absurd deal!" Wes sighed in incredulity.

The winter hair beauty didn't bulge, eyes riveting with the ashes of grey. Tayson ran his fingers through his hair, jumbling them, and smiles.

Baby cub knows how to negotiate, he reckoned.

"Even the slightest threat to my identity and I will consider it as a breach of contract. And for that, you will compensate me ten million." She kept her hand on her chest, acting pristine. "You see, I am a very sensitive person, so five million is a surplus for emotional damage."

Tayson rolled the ring on his middle finger. He knew her demands were extravagant because she was hoping that he would be blown away by those. He smiled. "Two million. That's all I can offer you at the start. We can talk about it once you submit your work and we get through the New york's Art festival. We also need to confer your stay, y-"

"Firstly, there's no 'we' and secondly, I am not staying in the country," she said with a voice that could make the devil gyrate to the core. "I will be in London. At my place."

"Let's not quibble about that. You gotta stay here, and that's final," Tayson concluded, pushing the sleeves of his white t-shirt over his elbows. The veins in his hands popped and he could swear that he saw her eyes lingering over them.

"This will continue forever if they are like this," Ryan murmured under his breath, peeking at Wes for the millionth.

"Alright, Tayson," Leona said, with a loud exaggerated sigh.

"Have you lost your mind?!" Ryan yelled, making Tayson and Wes jump out of their skin.

"I want my office. Preferably on the top floor. No one should have access to that floor except me and my manager, and you, of course. I would communicate only with you or through my manager. I need a good, splendid house. Oh, did I mention that your company will handle expenses of all of it?" Leona demanded, with a little smirk. She was going to make him mourn over dreaming to work with her.

"Okay, cool," Tayson agreed without missing an ounce of hesitancy.

"You want to go bankrupt?!" now, poor Wes yelled and exchange worried glances with Ryan. But their bosses didn't waver as happy Tayson hand her the pen.

Tayson could sense the utter scruple in her movement. She read the contract with her chin propped on the back of her hand while he just stared at her. He just couldn't figure her out and she was just boosting his curiosity with every passing moment.

After solid twenty minutes, she held the pen in her hand but didn't sign.

Her versant fingers play with the pen, rolling it between her index and middle finger. Tayson could see the apprehension hooding her face with a dredge of sadness and pain. He couldn't pinpoint it.

Sign it, come on, he urged in his mind.

"Don't back down from your words, Huxley. My manager has recorded every word of this undesirable conversation," saying, or more like threatening, she quickly signed the contract, and placed it back on the table. Tayson's face bloomed with a pure smile, revealing his teeth. He extended his hand in her vicinity.

"Now, we are officially working together, Miss. Pierce."

"I hope you are prepared for putting up with me. I will make sure you regret this decision of yours." Leona smiled back, but a smile says I-want-to-drag-you-to-hell-and-fry-you-in-scorching-oil.

"We will see," He said, gesturing at his hand. What worse can happen?

She reached her hand out and Tayson smirked; which soon diminished when she picked up the coffee mug instead of taking his hand.

"The coffee should be rated as the worst drink ever," she elucidated, making a weird face that Tayson found cute if he ignored the remark.

Leona stood and so did he, but before she could turn away, he spoke.

"Then maybe you can teach me how to make a good-rated coffee, alone." The playfulness dripped his tone, as he loosened up his shoulders, ultimately in mitigation to accomplish his goal.

"I have something for you, Tayson." Her voice leapt over the hail of ice dusting his mind and evolved into silks- alluring and tempting.

He watched her going through her bag and coils of excitement built in the lower pit of his stomach.

Leona pulled her hand out and presented him with her middle finger, earning a bubbly chuckle from him. "Enjoy your day, Mr Huxley."

The flame of wildfire spun, striding away with statuesque grace. Her comely figure was just embedded in his mind, without seeking his permission.

"Oh, yes." she abruptly ceased in the doorway and waved his phone. "I am taking this since you stole my bag and passport."

"Bu-" Wes started to argue but he was excluded by his boss.

Tayson treasure trove himself getting tangled in the turbulence and arriere-pensee. The woman in front of him was not normal in any way. There were dense clouds of craziness and diablerie fluttering over her.

Leona was either going to enliven up his world or blaze a trail to burn it into ashes.