I was born with four wings. My mother said it was all white when I came out, screeching at the top of my lungs. She would laugh and say I could wake up the whole world with the amount of yelling announcing that I was alive. Those days I could remember sitting by the fireplace, enjoying the warm fire flicker as we conversed in a three-story house. My father would slip in from time to time, hugging my mom and giving her light kisses.
I would peek at them and frown, rolling my eyes at their display of affection. It was excessive. Why couldn't they get a room?
They would tell me stories, talk about the normal days, but crucially adamant that I would hide away what or who i am. I never understood why.
I miss those days. Sitting in the chair next to the dining table, looking at the only picture I had of my mom and dad.
They would tell me, hide your wings. Don't show it to anyone, ever. I opened my wings in the compact apartment. It wasn't white as it used to be; instead, it was pitch black. I shuddered, stretching it wide. It encompassed three times my full size. The itch was terrible, keeping it hidden under my skin. It wasn't normal. Hell, my wings weren't normal anymore.
I groaned, leaning back. My silver hair shimmered as it was closer to white, reaching down to my butt. A tear dripped down my face, staring at the picture.
Mom and Dad, I miss you. "I swear I'll discover who killed you." Anger rose under my skin, per mutating dark, heavy energy that wrapped around the table chair.
My eyes gleamed and changed into a predatory look. Blood must be paid, and until that moment the twisting fury and hate wrapped around it like a vicious heart, dyeing my hair and wings like poison.
The shimmer of my silver hair died back to black over time. Hell, I hated this color, but I knew this dipping hatred for the murderer wasn't going to disappear in the immediate future. I wanted this feeling gone; I wanted the constant yelling in my mind to go out and get justice for the blood of the slain. Who? What? Why? Where? These questions remained unanswered.
But I knew the recent information of the murder case led to Hilmont County. One of the top wealthiest cities, ruled by the families Regis, Hills, and Sol. One of those families was the culprit, and I knew this wasn't going to be an easy picking through them. Hell, I knew this was a terrible idea.
With the paper in hand, I picked up the approval letter that got me accepted for a social media position in the social media department of the Regis Corporation. Today was the day I got up, pushing back the chair. It scraped against the ground as I stood up. I walked over to the hanging mirror, pausing for a moment by it.
A black and white blouse that draped around my top, long black pants with black shoes were present. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail as my bangs covered a third of my face. Phoenix eyes with gold and a light natural blush graced my face. My face was sharp, but beautiful. Smiles hardly graced my face, but if they did, my eyes didn't smile with them. There was an excess of anger, pain, and a boiling fury that shimmered underneath to allow a moment of a smile.
I practice a few times in front of a mirror to bring out the smile that seems to freeze up. With a couple of practices that failed terribly, I walked out the door and headed into my car. It was a basic, no-frills car, designed only for transportation. Luckily, I kept it clean.
It didn't take long for me to arrive at the twelve-story building that reminded me of a 5-star hotel. The doors opened on their own, allowing me to step through. The first thing I saw was a grand reception. A beautiful receptionist greeted me with a bright smile.
"Good morning, you ?"
"Sarah Gibbons. I'm here for my first day at work with the social media department."
"Ah, yes. We are expecting you. You will head to the seventh floor where you will be meeting with Isaiah."
"Thank you."
The receptionist slid me a tag for me to wear. "This is for you. This is your tag to get into the elevator and any other areas of the building. We have a dining hall on the second floor for the whole corporation at 1 pm everyday serving free lunch. I recommend going to grab something to eat; the lunch is fantastic!"
"Thank you." I reached over, taking the tag, wearing the lanyard around my neck and allowing it to dangle.
I headed straight toward the elevator, flashing the tag and pressing the floor number. Waiting, watching the numbers come down from floor 11.
Heavy steps on the marble floor sounded behind me. A heavy atmosphere pressed down upon my mind and the surrounding area intensely. I turned around, wondering what I was feeling.
A tall, dashing man with golden hair with classic black trench coat walked toward me. There was something about this man that I couldn't pinpoint. The best words, sinfully looking. Any unfortunate woman would jump him if he didn't have that cold atmosphere around him. There was a scar on his right eyebrow that trailed down to the edge of his eye. His plump lips looked kissable, and the smell reminded me of pine, blueberry, and wood. Strange, he reminded me of the forest.
Two other handsome men followed behind, joking with each other, flashing their brilliant white teeth. The first had brown hair, coming up short in height against the golden hair man I saw. He wore a simple blue suit and there was a laziness about him. There was a hint of rose smell that was one of my favorite kinds.
The second guy had black hair, sharp features, and a hardcore military demeanor about him, and his smell reminded me of the licorice smell of sweetness. His hair was slicked back, and he also was wearing a business suit of black and red. He was taller than the two of them. Each one had a powerful aura swirling around them in their own way.
What was this? Was there something going on where they needed models? They all looked as if they had stepped out of a magazine cover. Their smell. It's so overwhelming that I couldn't help as if I stepped through a cologne shop. It wasn't normal. I could hardly smell other people, and if I did run into one of those people, it was just as powerful a smell as these three.
I attempted to breathe in shallow and slow, so I didn't get a waft of their smell so rapidly. It was dizzying.
The golden hair man stopped next to me, his gaze landing straight down at me.
I felt a chill as his gaze slithered up and down, eventually stopping at my face. His frown deepens.
Dangerous. That was one word that struck me to my core. Warning bells told me that this man wasn't someone to mess with. Heck, he wasn't someone I wanted to be around.
I ripped my gaze from him, staring at the elevator door. The door dinged open, and I walked with speed in, stopping in front of the button. The other three followed.
Pressing the number seven, I turned my attention to the three. "What floor?"
"Twelve." The brown hair man spoke.
I pressed the button for them and went silent.
"You are?" The brown hair man tried to start a conversation.
"Me?" I turned my attention.
"Who else, sweetheart?"
"Sarah Gibbons. I am a new hire for the social media position."
"Oh? Interesting. Well, my name is Eric Sol."
"The Sol family?" I asked, tilting my head, surprised to see one of the Sol family here.
"Yep," Eric winked at me. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
"I'm sorry?" His direct question confused me.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No. I don't have anyone right now; I am not looking for any relationship." I spoke bluntly , not wanting to entertain a single conversation about a relationship with this man. He seems like a walking red flag.
"Leave her alone, Eric." The black hair man spoke with an annoyed voice. "Do you have to be hitting on every female you walk by ?"
"Absolutely. She's gorgeous. You can't say no to that?"
"The number of females you go through disgusts me enough; at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if you have AIDS."
"I do not. I make sure to get myself checked every time." Eric scoffed, "I'm not the type of person to sleep around. I had six girlfriends and maybe a few one-night stands."
"You make my point."
"Tyler, you need to relax. Get a date or a female or something and get laid. With how the Hill's are," Eric scoffed. "Don't you have a family gathering for a possible fiancée for a luna or something?"
Luna? What was that? I listened without speaking, glad that their focus was off me.
"Watch your mouth."
"Enough." A sultry, heavy voice rumbled through the air that I could feel it through my whole body. Holy cow, what kind of voice does this man have? It was like a deep, trembling voice that one would like if they spoke to you in your ear and you would melt from it.
Eric threw up his hands. "Sorry, Daimon. She is beautiful not to talk to."
The elevator dinged, opening up. I didn't take a second look back and walked out, turning left at a rapid pace. Staying in that elevator was a bad idea; each of those three men exuded sex appeal and their heavy scent that standing near them dizzying.
I could feel all three pairs of eyes boring down on me as the elevator door closed, leaving behind a cold feeling.
A sigh of relief exploded from my lungs, gobbling up any air that would clear out those three scents.
Damn it, why did they all smell so good? I shook my head, clearing it. I felt a strange, slow throbbing ache on my back where my wings were.
I looked for anyone who could direct me to my seat. Five open desks, computers that are side by side that had a modernised look to them. There were four people, and one of them stood up. He was tall, with his roguish looks. Standing up, he walked over with confident steps. Stopping in front of me, towering over me.
"You must be Sarah Gibbons." His dark eyes stared down at me with happiness, as if I was the solution to all their problems.
"Yes, you are Isaiah?"
"Yes!" He grabbed my hands and shook them hard. "I heard you won multiple awards for your social media post, extensive marketing experience and helped pull out major companies and bring large amounts of profit."
I blushed, "That's exaggerated, sir."
"Call me Isaiah."
"Si-, Isaiah, I just like to work."
Isaiah's large hand clapped my back, laughing heartily. "I like to hear that. Come. Come." he pushed me forward to his team.
Sitting on the left was a petite woman with glasses. Despite her disheveled hair, she looked adorable. She squinted at me, but didn't say anything. To the right stood a striking woman, her vibrant red hair and alluring figure evoking a magazine cover. Next to her was a pretty man, who wore very mismatched colors.
"This is Freya with the glasses. Monica with the red hair. Collins, that looks like a peacock." Isaiah spoke with pride about his team. "We have been waiting for you for weeks; that extra hand is much needed at this time of the year. Your seat will be next to Freya."
I nodded, walking over. Pulling back the chair, I took a seat in front of the computer.
"Your sign-in and password are on that piece of paper. Our first major project for the new electric bullet train that is being connected to Hill county going through Roman and other multiple cities across the country, with its final destination Billard County. The grand opening is our task in three months. So far, we have been able to get a handful of social media posts ready."
"What about getting some well-known celebrities to ride on it the first day in the first-class cabin?" I spoke up; I was busily looking at the bullet train that stretched through the whole country, reading every fact that I could. I marveled at its speed as it sprinted through the whole country from one end to the next, extending into four countries. This was a massive project undertaking, and Hill's county was the epicenter of it all.
The amount of money and people required to get this complete was insane.
"We thought of that, and have some lined up."
"Who?" I clicked through the files, noticing an interesting feature of it.
"Tyler Hills."
"Tyler Hills? One of the Hills family? They got a piece in this?"
"Yes," Monica with red hair spoke as if it were a normal thing. "He's one of the top male models in the country. It makes no sense not to." She stated matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes at me.
"Does he have a date?"
"Why such a question? Are you trying to get a date with him?" Monica snorted. I could tell that these women didn't like me. I was fine with that.
"No, it would be a good idea if he had a partner with him to give it a 'date' like feel to it, traveling through the country on some kind of vacation. A woman preferred, appearing that it's a great place for high-end transportation instead of a car. I know traveling by plane is dangerous with the coming electrical storms in the next few months, grounding flights for six. so going through the bullet train and how timely and quick it would get to their destination is what we are going for, isn't it?"
I finished clicking off the rest of the posts that they had created and the rest of the information that I read. Taking a moment to sit back and glance at them one after another. None of them said a word and stared at me in silence.
Isaiah nodded, "That's a great idea for the VIPs. What about the normal people?"
"Business outings." I replied without hesitation, "Looking at the data, 80% of the people who ride the train are people who are going to work. Targeting these people should help with the image of the train, while in different seasons we could have family outings as you could see in the summertime, families are higher than the workers."
I pointed out.
"Damn. She's good." Collins muttered.
"I could have thought of that," Monica mumbled under her breath.
"You didn't." Freya pushed her glasses up the bridge of the nose.
"We were busy with the last project," Monica said in a hurry. "We hardly having time for any ideas.
"Three months," Freya snapped back. "We were on this for three months, while the other project ended last month. Stop with the excuses."
Monica glared at Freya, snarling.
With a clap, Isaiah brought their attention back to him. "Let's not get into a disagreement and start our work. We have a month deadline, as the opening day is in three months. By the end of this week, we need to be blasting out post throughout the whole city."
The group nodded.
"Sarah, you handle the VIP post. Sarah, you handle the VIP post. Eric will hold his photoshoot tomorrow; go and get those done.
"Isaiah, I thought I would be handling that." Monica spoke out with displeasure.
"No. I know you're trying to get in his pants. Our work is more important than your flirting." Isaiah rolled his eyes.
"It's true, I saw you following him yesterday," said Freya. "I know getting married to any one of those three would get you settled for life."
Monica glared, "What are you saying? I'm a gold digger or something?"
"Yes."
"Take that back; I am not."
"Sure you are."
I snorted, unable to hold it back. This girl is savage. I love it. What a welcome.
"Sarah will manage the VIP marketing side; this is my final decision. Everyone get-"
The phone rang, catching Isaiah off guard. He picked up his phone. "Yes? You want who? Okay, sir. I'll send her up." He hung up the phone. "Sarah, go to the twelfth floor. CEO Regis is looking for you."
"Lucky bitch," Monica hissed under her breath.
"We all know you want to get in those pants, Monica," Freya deadpan spoke.
I got up, a smile appearing on my lips. Gosh, I would love to be Freya's friend. I know for a fact that we will hit it off greatly with each other. I left, heading for the elevator.
Damn. My back was itching and my wings needed some serious stretching. This was not good at all.