Page 1 of Confused AF (At First #2)

one

~ Otto ~

C appuccino in hand—three pumps of vanilla, extra foam—I found an empty table next to the tinted windows with a view of the plaza outside. Choosing the padded chair that faced the entrance of the cafe, I shook off my nerves and settled down to wait.

For the past six weeks, I had interviewed plenty of applicants for a temporary assistant position.

Despite being transparent in my job posting, however, quite a few had thought they could talk their way into a permanent paycheck.

Others had only been interested in a free trip to Las Vegas, and they hadn’t even been subtle about it.

I didn’t think I was asking for anything outrageous. For pity’s sake, I hadn’t even required applicants to have experience in the beauty industry. I just needed someone to accompany me to the Spellbound Expo— the magical beauty convention—and keep things from going off the rails for a week.

After striking out time and again with humans, I had finally turned to MNSTR. I had used the app on a few occasions in the past for little things, like emergency deliveries or minor cosmetic repairs at the studio. Never for anything like this, though.

The Magical Network of Specialized Task Resources had a shadeling on standby for every occasion.

My grandmother had hired a vampire to intimidate her neighbor during a property dispute over a pear tree.

Petty, sure, but also effective. I had a client who had employed a warlock to clear her ex’s negative energy from the apartment… and set his stuff on fire.

Even my best friend, River, had used MNSTR to find an escort to a shadeling-only networking event. The party itself hadn’t exactly gone to plan, but the werewolf had turned out to be his mate, and everything had worked out in the end.

I knew from both personal experience and secondhand accounts that the agent would be skilled, professional, and free of drama. My temporary assistant wouldn’t have an ulterior motive or a random side quest. For one week, his only job was to make my life easier.

But that kind of dedication didn’t come cheap.

While I technically had a connection at MNSTR, I knew Deaton had only agreed to help me because he was mated to my best friend. I still appreciated it, and besides, I’d tried to do things on my own, and I hadn’t exactly been successful.

Once I had given him the green light, Deaton had found a highly recommended agent willing to work at a reduced rate, but he couldn’t do anything about the app fees. Sure, I probably could have asked the agent to work “off the books,” but that didn’t feel like a safe option for either of us.

If things went sideways, I wanted legal protection. I was sure my potential new assistant felt the same way.

I had exchanged a few messages with Vaden Ashmore through the app to set up our meeting, but beyond the basics, I knew little about him.

Demon. Detailed oriented. Specializing in executive assistance.

That about covered it.

He had seemed brisk, though not necessarily impolite, during our exchanges. His responses generally consisted of no more than three words, which I supposed revealed something about his personality. I just hadn’t decided what exactly.

Leaning forward, elbows on the table, I wrapped both hands around the white ceramic mug and stared into my cappuccino. I had chosen the location in hopes that it would provide comfort in its familiarity.

It didn’t.

Cast in shades of soft cream and muted browns with a polished but scarred bar, the cafe looked more like a pub than a coffeehouse. Even the name, The Brewery, conjured images of pale ales and whiskey shots rather than latte art and blond espressos.

Yet the place had been a staple in Circle City since the 90s.

Sure, there were newer and fancier cafes, but I still preferred the quiet neutrality of The Brewery.

I had spent hours in the back corner booth cramming for tests in high school.

I’d had my first date here, back when I had still been trying to figure out whether I liked boys or girls.

Eventually, I figured out no rule existed that said I had to choose.

Even as a teenager with raging hormones and more opinions than sense, I had found the place soothing. Calming. Safe.

At the moment, I felt none of those things.

The door opened with a faint chime and a rush of summer heat, drawing my attention to the entrance. I tensed when Vaden Ashmore stepped across the threshold. The photo on his MNSTR profile hadn’t done him justice at all.

With the cafe located in the heart of the city, it wasn’t unusual to see businessmen in suits and ties waiting in line for their morning coffee. None of them stood out quite like Vaden, though. Dressed in a beige suit that molded to his lean frame, he didn’t exactly fade into the background.

While not his most striking feature, at first glance, his ruby red curls were certainly the most noticeable. Vibrant and glossy, the strands wound into a halo of tight corkscrews, hiding all but the tips of a pair of obsidian horns that protruded from just inside his hairline.

“Over here.” I lifted my hand to get his attention as I stood.

He turned toward me, but he didn’t smile or nod. His eyes, a startling shade of bright green, narrowed slightly at the corners, but otherwise, his expression gave away nothing as he approached the table.

“Vaden Ashmore?” I asked, extending my hand in greeting. “I’m Otto Stillwater.”

He took my hand, his slender fingers firm but gentle, and I froze as a surge of warmth rushed up my arm from the contact. At the same time, Vaden’s nostrils flared, and the set of his jaw tightened, causing a subtle jut to his chin.

Pulling away, I chuckled to ease the awkwardness and motioned toward the chair across from mine. “Please, have a seat.” My gaze flickered to the register. “Unless you want to get a drink first?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Vaden unbuttoned his jacket at the waist and lowered himself into the seat.

Movement caught my attention as I started to turn away, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing toward him again.

As inky black as his horns, a long, slender tail curved around his hips and along his thigh before arching gracefully over the edge of the chair.

A tuft of red hair adorned the very end, the strands swaying mere inches off the hardwood floor.

Of course, a lot of shadelings had tails, not just demons, but I had never seen one this close-up before. Though fascinated, I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable, so I pushed it to the back of my mind as I resumed my seat.

Sitting forward in my chair to rest my forearms on the table, I flashed him a smile. “Thank you for meeting me here.”

His gaze never wavered, his catlike eyes boring into mine, watchful…assessing. In turn, I struggled not to squirm under the scrutiny.

While he stood at least a head taller than me, I wouldn’t consider him physically imposing. He had a fairly narrow frame with a lean build, and his mop of curls gave him an almost boyish appearance.

His demeanor, however, I found intimidating as hell. He seemed to take up more space than was reasonable by doing nothing more than breathing, and every inch of him radiated with quiet confidence.

Nothing that leaned too close to smugness or arrogance. Just a natural, understated dominance that commanded attention.

Not exactly the kind of personality that lent itself to the service of others, and I wondered how he’d ended up working as a professional assistant.

“How do you know Deaton Horne?”

I had expected the question, or at least some version of it. The accusatory tone confused me, though.

“He’s mated to my best friend.”

Vaden nodded, and the rigid set of his shoulders visibly relaxed.

Odd. I had been under the impression that the two had a friendly relationship. Maybe I had misunderstood, but why else would the demon accept such a reduced rate for his services?

I mentally shrugged. For my purposes, the status of their relationship didn’t really matter. As long as Vaden agreed to accompany me to Vegas for a week, his feelings toward the werewolf were irrelevant.

“Tell me about the convention,” he said. Leaning back in his chair, he propped one ankle up on the opposite knee and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I don’t know anything about the beauty industry, but I gather this is important.”

Damn, he had a great voice. Smooth, baritone, with a steady, intentional cadence that both soothed and engaged. He could probably make a killing as a narrator.

I cleared my throat and fidgeted with the handle of my coffee mug as I gathered my thoughts.

“The Spellbound Expo is an annual convention that highlights some of the top names in the industry. Cosmetic and skincare brands. Professional makeup artists. Haircare experts and stylists. About three years ago, they even introduced special effects artists.”

Vaden nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “It sounds competitive.”

“Oh, it is. It took me six years to finally get my foot in the door.”

“And how does this convention benefit you?” He tilted his head, the gesture more measured than curious. “If the conference is in Las Vegas, I don’t see how that would expand your clientele here in Circle City.”

A fair appraisal, and I could understand why he would think that. I didn’t sell a product that appeared in stores around the country. Instead, I sold a service, with most of my current customer base being local.

“Nothing is guaranteed,” I clarified. “But thousands of people attend the expo every year, along with quite a few social media influencers.” I lifted my hands away from the mug, fingers splayed. “Word spreads, and if I make a big enough splash, that’s more local traffic.”

While unlikely, it had the potential to turn into something even bigger. Like corporate sponsorships, collaboration opportunities, and even being sought out by the rich and famous. None of which I actively aspired to, but I wouldn’t hate it either.

Vaden bobbed his head again. “How can I help you accomplish this?”

“I’ll be hosting makeup demonstrations and tutorials at my booth, along with private consultations.” Basically, mini private classes that covered everything from application techniques to choosing the best products. “That’s going to require almost all of my focus.”

“I see.”

“So, I need someone to book appointments, keep me on schedule, and answer some basic questions,” I continued. “Oh, and maybe prevent me from having a meltdown by day two.”

My next breath caught in my throat when Vaden smiled. A bright, genuine expression, it transformed the harsh lines and sharp angles of his face, softening them into something truly breathtaking.

Then he sat forward and reached his hand across the table. “I look forward to working with you, Otto Stillwater.”

My own fingers trembled as I took his hand, and I sucked in a quiet breath through clenched teeth when I felt another surge of warmth at the contact.

Relief, I told myself. I was just relieved that he had agreed to work with me. If my heart stuttered and my stomach did a slow somersault when his gaze raked over me?

Well, that didn’t mean anything.