Christine's alarm went off at seven am, and a groan escaped her lips. It felt like she hadn't enough sleep; she peered at her alarm clock and banged it off her nightstand.
The silence was welcoming. Christine rolled on her back and blinked up at the ceiling - the birds were chirping near her window.
"This is your day, Christine. Carpe Diem." She pulled back her covers and got up. She had to nail this interview, or she would be sleeping under a box.
She stretched, walked to the kitchen and put on the kettle for some coffee; the best way to start her day.
As she waited for the kettle, her eyes fell on the half-empty brandy bottle still standing on her counter, and her thoughts went to Uriel.
Was he okay now? Did he get any sleep without pain medication? She bit her lip. Why was she worrying anyway - it was not as if they were friends.
The kettle boiled, and she poured the steaming water in; she picked up her cup and went to her bedroom. She put the cup down on her vanity table, turned towards her closet, opening the doors.
She never had any clothes - that would be suitable - for a big company like Angel War. She researched them - they owned nearly all the museums and a few art galleries and funded archaeology digs.
This would be the perfect job for her. Although . . . if she could only be a secretary for the CEO - and she impressed him with her knowledge of Mythology. Then maybe - just maybe she would get her foot in the door.
She rummaged through her clothes and found a black pencil skirt, a black blazer and a white shirt. She smiled - it looked brand new because she hardly wore it, ecstatic that she kept it.
She placed the clothes on her bed and turned back to her closet, looking for shoes. After five minutes, she found a beautiful black pair of high heels. A nervous laugh escaped her. "I will definitely break my neck in these."
Satisfied with her clothing choices, she went to her bathroom to shower. She opened the taps till the bathroom was hot and steamy. She took off her nightshirt and lace undergarments and turned her attention to her stomach - where her scars were.
Christine trailed her fingers over them, and memories of Markus surfaced. She couldn't believe it was already ten years - they met when she was sixteen and dated for four before he got tried for attempted murder.
She blinked. The steam in the bathroom was thickening. She opened the shower door and got in - the water felt so good against her skin.
She closed her eyes. The water was flowing like a river over her head.
"Hello, Christine."
Christine hesitated before putting shampoo on her hair. "You again?"
"Is that frustration . . . I feel coming from you?"
She bit back a retort. "What do you want?"
"That is a good question. If I had the answer - you wouldn't be here."
She thought for a moment, wait! "You once told me that I should forget meeting you!"
"Ahh, so you do remember, mortal."
Christine rolled her eyes. Now I am mortal again? "Yes, you wanted me to wake up, or I'll seize to exist."
"That is true because you were busy dying . . . and I could not have that."
"You also didn't tell me your name then."
The voice went quiet, and Christine opened her eyes. "Gadrial?" There was no answer nor snippy remark thrown at her. The whole situation weirded Christine out completely. A voice called to her on her deathbed in the hospital and . . . calling to her again now?
She closed the taps. She wanted to know what this meant, and no matter how she tried to figure it out, it did not make sense.
Her doorbell rang - who could that be in these ungodly hours of the morning. "Coming!"
She didn't have time to get dressed, so she wrapped her towel around her; her hair was still dripping wet - she walked to the door and paused. She peered through the peephole. Uriel?!
He was standing in front of her door with flowers and red roses.
"Are you going to open the door for him?"
Really, Gadrial . . . You're choosing to talk to me now? Her hand hesitated on the door handle, she didn't want to be rude, but she wasn't dressed.
She opened the door, "Good morning, Uriel."
Uriel's head bobbed up slowly. "Go-Good morning, Christine. I. . ."
Uriel's gaze shifted downwards for a second. He felt his pants restricting around his manhood. The sight of Christine who stood, semi-naked, in the doorway with water slowly dripping on her shoulders from her wet hair . . . running down to where the towel covered her breasts.
He pushed the roses towards her. "I bought these for you - to say thank you for yesterday."
Christine took the roses, and a faint smile played on her lips. He bought me flowers. She brought the roses towards her nose and inhaled; she loved the smell of flowers. "Thank you, Uriel. That is so thoughtful of you."
Uriel scratched his head embarrassingly. "Well, you did save my life."
She grinned at him. "Don't mention it - are you doing better?"
He looked everywhere except at her, "I am doing better, just a bit stiff, but that is to be expected."
She reached out her hand and touched his arm. "I am happy to hear that, and if you have trouble with your arm, I can always make you some dinner tonight?"
What was she thinking? "Yeah, what are you thinking, Christine?"
She heard Gadrial's angry voice in her head. She gave her a mental, SHH!
Uriel let out a nervous laugh. "It would be fine - thank you for the offer. I can see I've caught you at a bad time." He averted his gaze; once more. "I'll see you around."
She felt disappointed but quickly hid it with a bright smile. "Thank you once again for the roses."
He bowed slightly and walked back to his apartment. Christine stood there for a few seconds, watching him and noticed he was limping.
"Earth to Christine - the mortal!"
She blinked and closed the door. She looked at the clock on the wall above the desk. "You do not have to scream at me!"
"Yes, I should. You are going to be late."
She didn't want to admit it, but Gadrial was right; she placed the flowers in an empty vase in her kitchen and filled it with water.
She got to her bedroom and dried off. She put on lacey-black undergarments and a lacey-black bra - she shimmied the pencil skirt from the bottom up over her ass and zipped it. She flattened it; she loved that it complimented her very well. She buttoned the shirt, tugging it in neatly, threw the black blazer over her shoulders and slipped her arms through.
She turned and looked at herself in the mirror and frowned at the image before her; a true office lady stared back at her. She sat down at her vanity table, picked up her brush and pulled it through her hair, making a high ponytail. She put it down and opened a drawer where she kept her eyeliner and mascara.
She applied her make-up, and her eye fell back to the drawer - did she need to wear some lipstick? She picked up her blood-red lipstick and pouted her lips, applying it. She stood up - to put on her high heels - she wobbled a bit. Definitely going to break my neck.
Christine inhaled a long breath. You are ready for this. Go knock them dead.
She walked out of her room, she grabbed her keys from the desk near the door. She left her apartment; while walking to the elevator, she started to have a mental interview with herself to calm her nerves.
She pressed the down button. She still had thirty minutes to get to her interview, and she prayed that there was a taxi outside. The doors closed behind her, and she tapped her foot . . . it felt like an eternity to get to the ground floor.
Finally, the doors opened and stepping out - she walked into someone. "Oh, God! I am so sorry."
The arms steadied her. "Not at all, Miss. Be careful, or you will hurt yourself."
She looked up - it was a man she had never seen in this building. His face . . . such handsome features and his eyes were so soft. "If you'll excuse me." His hands left her shoulders, and he entered the elevator.
She turned her head back towards the elevator - who was that? She left her apartment building and saw a man standing in front of a limousine. What was a guy with such an expensive car doing in this part of town?
Christine walked past him and paused as he called out.
"Miss Parkins!"
She turned towards him. "I am here to pick you up for your interview."