Chapter 2
“Good evening, Mr. Thurman – and happy holidays, sir.”
“Thanks, Charles. The same to you too,” Moused replied to the security guard on duty in the lobby of this Segher-owned building. “I’m just going to put some finishing touches on a little paperwork upstairs. I shouldn’t be too long.”
“Ah, but you always say that, sir,” Charles chuckled. “Merry Christmas if I don’t see you before midnight.”
Moused smiled then winked at the older man as he turned the corner and headed toward the bank of elevators.
Glancing up, he noticed that someone had hung a piece of mistletoe from the ceiling in the alcove above him. It’s funny how he had just noticed it today, even though the Christmas decorations had been up and in full swing for at least two weeks now.
It’ll all be over soon and we can get back to normal, Moused thought, rolling his eyes at the thought of any of the stuffed business shirts that worked in the building actually making use of the mistletoe. No doubt it was an over-worked secretary’s idea of being funny or something.
Stepping into the large, luxurious, compartment reserved for the executive suites, Moused pressed the button for the forty-fifth floor. He rolled his eyes…again… in response to I’ll Be Home For Christmas, which was currently wafting down from the speakers above.
By the time he realized he wasn’t alone, the doors had already closed and the elevator had started its ascent.
Leaning nonchalantly in the corner across from him – the one that had been hidden from his view from outside the elevator doors – was Catrionella Monsignac.
Neither one of them moved as they returned stares.
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Glancing up at the security camera in the top corner, Moused noticed a small device had been attached underneath. No doubt she had set it on a loop that would show him going up – alone – and exiting the elevator on his floor.
Interesting.
“I am curious, Monsieur Thurman, as to how you are managing to control your heartbeat and breathing in such a manner. Someone who finds themselves alone – potentially trapped - in an elevator with a vampire should feel a lot more worried than you apparently do.” Her voice was husky, sultry and had a delicate French accent that seemed to caress each syllable of every word she uttered.
“If it helps at all, my mouth just went bone dry…? And, am I trapped? I don’t think…”
Before he could finish his sentence the woman moved so fast she became a blur for the fraction of a second it took to reach his side of the compartment. Now physically cornering him with her body, their faces only inches apart, she reached out with one hand and pressed the stop button, halting the car between the thirty second and third floors.
“You are now,” she smiled, flashing her fangs as she ran her tongue along her bottom lip.
Moused hoped she was going for sultry and mysterious, over hungry and thirsty. Either description fit the way she was looking at him now.
Leaning in a little closer without actually touching him, Catrionella closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. With her hands now placed on either side of his head, Moused took this opportunity to duck under her arm and move himself across to the other side of the elevator from her.
She turned slowly to face him again, her back resting against the elevator controls. This separated Moused from accessing them, which had possibly been her intention all along.
“Mon dieu, but you smell absolutely délicieux, mon jeune ami. I was not expecting that. I was not expecting you at all, if truth be told. Given your background, age, hacking skills, gaming obsession and several other things I have read about you, I thought you’d be more…”
“Penelope Garcia?” Moused asked. “I get that a lot.”
“I was going to go for the other one…the one from NCIS…”
“Ah, Abby Sciuto. That look never really worked for me. I think it’s my hair color. Brown just doesn’t scream Goth, does it? I see you’re going for that 1920s, Louise Brooks, silent film look. It looks good on you.”
Catrionella looked at him with some disdain. “I am not going for anything. I was Turned in the 1920s. This has always been my look.”
“Oh. I didn’t think of that. Sorry. I’m not exactly known for my tact or for mastering the skills required to make small talk. Are you now going to lecture me on how great the old days were and how corrupted my generation is etcetera?”
“Only if you’d like me to. Although I will say that you can tell much about a person from the clothes they wear, you know. A lot can be said about how the youth in my day used to dress. Can there really be anything more appealing than a man in a tight jacket with sloping shoulders? Or a man wearing a pair of baggy plus-fours or tailored wide-legged trousers? You youngsters today have no idea how to dress to impress. I am surprised the Master of the Segher House allows his Retinue to represent him in such casual attire.” Catrionella took in his sneakers, jeans and knee-length coat in one long, leisurely, almost-judgmental, look.
“Assistant Ret – and to be fair the coat is Armani and it’s Christmas Eve and technically my day off,” Moused responded. “Also, Reyes Alfonso is officially the Retinue for House Segher.”
“Ah, Maurice, but Monsieur Alfonso is currently making the transition to vampire, n’est pas? That leaves you in charge, doesn’t it?”
“Mr. Alfonso is currently overseas on business. And the name is Moused.”
“Come, come, now Maurice. Do you have something against the name your mother gave to you?” The woman smiled at him again. “Ah-ha,” she continued, “that got the heart racing just a little bit faster, didn’t it? It appears you aren’t too fond of the name Maurice at all, are you?”
“First of all, Catrionella,” Moused said to emphasize the fact she wasn’t the only one who’d done her homework. “While it does sound just a tiny bit better coming from your lips and in your accent, my mother will never be forgiven for naming me after her favorite uncle. The name is Moused and it’s the only one I’ll answer too.”
“Calm down, mon jeune ami, I was only teasing un peu. I think my teasing is preferred over any potential alternative…no?”
“Like eating me for dinner?”
“Qui! C’est ça! I must say, Moused, you are deliciously entertaining for a computer nerd. You may call me Cat.”
“Well, Cat, let’s hope I make it through the next few moments without you discovering how delicious I am firsthand, okay? Why don’t we head up to my office and discuss further what brings you to Segher Technologies.”
Cat laughed heartily, throwing her head back and causing the entire elevator to shake just a little.
Without warning the laughter stopped abruptly and she moved with vamp-speed over to Moused, picked him up by the lapels of his coat, and slammed him down onto his back on the elevator floor. Before he could blink the woman was sitting astride him, her knees pinning his arms to his sides.
“But why would we move from here, mon cheri? After I’ve just gone and made myself more comfortable?” Her immaculately painted red lips twitched and her eyes sparkled devilishly from the small exertion.
Moused, having just had all the air knocked from his lungs, struggled to control his breathing for a moment.
“Oh la la,” Cat continued with a smirk, “It appears I have inadvertently discovered what makes the young Ret’s heart beat a little bit faster - and it has nothing to do with fear…or his aversion to being called Maurice.”
Moused felt his face flushing as he tried to control…other parts of him affected by her actions.
“Assistant Ret, remember?” he breathed out in a low voice.
“And here I was thinking we were becoming friends, Maurice. Are you going to insult me further by continuing to deny that Reyes Alfonso is currently undergoing the Turn? He has not been seen in public
for over seven months, mon cheri. What else could keep him away from running Segher affairs for so long, eh?”
“My friends, Catrionella, don’t usually hold me hostage in an elevator.”
“The word ‘hostage’ implies I am looking for something in exchange, Monsieur Thurman.”
Damn, why did the way she pronounced ‘Thurman’ as ‘Turman’ sound so damn cute? Not to mention the way she dropped all the ‘Hs’ from the beginning of her words. ‘Hostage’ became the most adorable-sounding ‘ostage’ and just by virtue of the way it sounded, Moused felt like it was something he kind of liked being…for the moment at least. Damn that French accent!
“I eagerly wait to hear what it is that you do want, Ms. Monsignac. I assume there’s more purpose to this little show of yours than your blatant display of brute force over an embarrassingly weak human, isn’t there? Or perhaps chilling out and listening to Christmas carols in elevators is your thing…?” As he said this, the speakers in the ceiling announced a new song was starting.
Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,
Right down Santa Claus Lane
“My dear, dear, Mousey. May I call you Mousey? It is, after all, what your friends call you, n’est pas? I assume it’s a term of endearment?”
“I’ll take anything over Maurice,” Moused replied before redirecting the conversation. “So tell me, Catrionella, I was just doing some reading about you and your… partner… Claude Toussaint. Will your brother be joining us any time