Vampire Romance

Claudia adjusted the strap slung across her sensible, though slightly worn, shoulder bag and effortlessly made her way through the throng of commuters on an equally busy Tuesday morning- it seemed to her she had done this step similarly a thousand times before. Another Tuesday, another pile of paperwork awaiting her at Vlad Inc. The name was unfortunate for a company engaged in financial analytics, but it always tickled to the corner of her mouth. She did not particularly love spreadsheets and quarterly reports; these were just the big ones that paid her bills in droves and became a stepping stone, an introduction to her grown-up life, whatever that may be. She had a faint and quiet hope inside that one day, she would own a neat little apartment with a window box rather filled with herbs and, above all else, a feisty ginger cat. Her life was an edifice very well-built on predictability. 6:30 AM, alarm goes off, black coffee-no sugar, same bus route, same desk, and same lunch (most of which was usually a sad-looking sandwich she had packed herself). Safe was a word of many associations but not exciting. But then again, Claudia cherished stability. After an upbringing marred by turbulence, there was little she esteemed beyond it. At twenty-eight, her most pressing life ambition was to be able to get that cat-a dream she had been nursing ever since she was a child. A simple, achievable dream, in stark contrast to those of her friends chasing after grander, ethereal ones. Stepping into the boyish, fluorescent-lit lobby of Vlad Inc., she was met with stale coffee and printer toner. She nodded at Gary, the security guard, always looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else, and walked to the elevator. The doors slid open, revealing a few early birds already immersed in their phones. Claudia squeezed into a corner, pulling out her own phone to check the weather. A totally normal day, as she expected. Or so she thought. The biggest clue that the orderly world around her might soon come undone did not come from a wave of dramatic events but rather from another of her simple, simple rituals: coffee. The machine in the office was the temperamental beast even in the best of days, but on this particular day, it was completely intractable. It gurgled, spat, and ultimately died with a wheeze on one last note. Claudia sighed and rubbed her temples. She muttered,” Just great; that’s just what I need to do is start my day.” She proceeded to mentally calculate how many minutes she was going to lose walking over to the overpriced coffee house down the street. “Looks like you’re having a bad day,” a chirpy voice chimed beside her. It was Cassey, her cubicle neighbor and closest work friend, an explosion of bright colors and boundless energy. Just as Claudia was the practical one, Cassey was full of all sorts of optimism; yet, oddly, they clicked. "Yeah, just my luck. I can't even go home and have lunch; I've got too much work to get done," Claudia exclaimed, gesturing vaguely at the dead coffee machine. "And now no coffee." Cassey noted sadly, "You just gotta love it; it can be such a drag sometimes." With that, she leaned in conspiratorially. "Did you see Matt Jenson today? He is so hot." Claudia good-naturedly rolled her eyes. Matt Jenson was the office heartthrob- a marketing executive with a penchant for sharp, tailored suits and an even sharper taste in flirting with anything that moved. "Well, yeah, but he's kinda a jerk," Claudia countered, remembering a particularly obnoxious comment he made last week about her sensible shoes. Cassey shrugged, already distracted by something on her phone. Claudia, still hash tracking her loss of caffeine, turned around to stare some more at the coffee machine as if willing it back to life. It was then that she felt someone standing next to her. A tall, imposing man emitting an air of quiet authority before whom the very atmosphere seemed to be in resonance. She looked up, and her breath caught. He was, in simple terms, absolutely stunning. Dark hair, sculpted to perfection, framed a face that could have been sculpted from marble-sharp cheekbones, strong jawline and then the eyes...midnight black eyes, dark and fathomless, but with the slightest hint of something ancient and wise. Then there was the suit of some impossible expense; effortlessly elegant on his wider shoulders and lean body. He was not only gorgeous; he had a somewhat unsettling quality about his perfection. "Working hard?" His voice was a low rumble, smooth as aged whiskey, sending a shiver down Claudia’s spine. It was not so much a question more an amused observation, he said with the slightest crinkling of his lips. Claudia, normally known for her faculties of communication, stood practically stuttering. "Y-Yes, of course." Her cheeks flamed. She felt like a graceless teenager caught in the middle of something illicit; except she- an adult- was attempting to fix a coffee machine. He chuckled, warm and deep, a richness that resonated deeply inside her. "That's what I want to hear. May I ask who you are?" "Claudia, and you?" She regained a little composure, offered a hand. His grip was firm, cool, sending another jolt through her, lingering just a moment longer than strictly necessary. "Christian. Nice to meet you." His gaze held hers, insistent and unflinching. "I hope you finish your work soon. I would not want to see a lovely lady like you walking the street alone." The manner of speaking was that of a polite chit-chat, but there was a current coursing through it, an undercurrent of almost subtle possession that made her skin prickle. It was disturbing in some way but at the same time exhilarating. "Yeah, I'm trying to be quick but thorough," she said, pulling her hand back, her heart doing a crazy little jig against her ribs. She felt flattered in a very strange way one moment and unnerved in another. Who is this man? He certainly isn't any run-of-the-mill employee. The way he walked, the way he spoke... He radiated power. Another man emerged, equally imposing but with a harsher countenance, an angular face, and eyes that seemed to pierce through her. He was dressed in a similar expensive suit, but his demeanor was much cooler. "Christian, we need to go," he said tersely, eyes scanning Claudia with unabashed contempt. Christian continued to focus on Claudia as he nodded. "Have you met Claudia? Claudia, this is Bruce." Bruce gave no greeting, no smile, just a curt nod that bordered on a sneer. It sparkled like pent-up lightning in Claudia, who felt an instant, visceral loathing for him; cold hostility contrasted sharply with the warm charm of Christian. "Well, have a good night," Christian called back, holding her with an intense final look before he walked away with Bruce settling into step like a shadow behind him. Claudia watched them go, the waves of disorientation washing over her. It was as if the air had cooled in their absence, the office environment had resumed its mundane life, yet something within her had irrevocably changed. Finally, she made it to her desk, the coffee machine incident well and truly forgotten. Christian's dark eyes, his soft voice, the electrifying feeling of discomfort that carried a hint of danger, played in a loop in her mind. Who is he? And what was he saying?