Cain settled into the chair opposite his boss, acutely aware of the attention their table was drawing. Patrons, particularly men, cast not-so-subtle glances their way, their expressions a mix of envy and curiosity. The unspoken assumption in the air was that they were a couple, and Cain felt a familiar, prickling anxiety begin to crawl up his neck under their collective gaze. He offered Ms. Montes an awkward, strained smile.
"Ms. Montes, about the reason for this meeting," he began, trying to steer the conversation to business.
His boss ignored him, raising a hand to signal a waiter. The young man was at their table in seconds, presenting two leather-bound menus. Cain waved his away. "No, thank you. I'm fine. I just came for our meeting."
Ms. Montes looked over the top of her menu, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched. "I insist. Order something. My treat."
Cain shook his head, feeling stubborn. "Really, I'm okay. I don't need anything."
The pleasant mask on Ms. Montes's face slipped away. Her violet eyes cooled. "I do not appreciate being refused, Mr. Cain. I am not a particularly kind person, but I have made an exception for you. If you do not order something, there will be no discussion about your reemployment." Her tone was flat, a quiet reminder of the power dynamic at play.
Cain felt the pressure instantly. His shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. He took the menu from the waiter's still-outstretched hand. "A black coffee, please."
Ms. Montes's smile returned, but it was different now, edged with satisfaction. "Good. I commend your obedience. You folded quite quickly." She took a slow sip of her tea, her gaze holding his over the rim of the cup. "Like a well-trained dog."
Cain forced a laugh, the sound hollow. He needed this job. He could swallow the insult.
When his coffee arrived, the tense silence was broken by the soft clink of porcelain. Ms. Montes got straight to the point. "Explain to me why you want this position back. Is there a specific material goal? A dream car? A down payment on a house? Are you saving for something grand?"
Cain shook his head, looking into his dark coffee. "No, ma'am. It's simpler than that. I just need a stable salary again. I want my father to be able to stop working. He's back in the province, and he shouldn't have to labor anymore."
Ms. Montes let out a light, dismissive laugh. Cain felt the belittlement like a physical slap. "But isn't it good for him to work? To have his own income? So he isn't solely dependent on you, milking your earnings?"
Cain's head snapped up. "It's not like that." His voice was low but firm, edged with a rare defiance. "My father worked himself to the bone my entire life. His blood, his sweat, his tears… they paid for every opportunity I had. They put me here. I don't want this job to repay a debt. I want it so I can give my own blood, sweat, and tears for him now. Because I love him." The words spilled out, raw and embarrassingly sincere. He immediately looked back down, his cheeks burning.
When he dared to glance up again, he saw something unexpected. Ms. Montes was looking away, a faint, rosy blush visible on her dark cheeks. She had broken eye contact the moment their gazes met.
"Is something wrong, ma'am?" Cain asked, confused. "Do I have something on my face?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, taking a deliberate sip of her tea, her eyes fixed on the window. "That was just… a rather emotional answer. Surprisingly so, coming from a handsome man like you, Cain."
Cain blinked, thrown by the compliment. "Thank you," he managed.
Ms. Montes seemed to collect herself, the professional demeanor sliding back into place. She outlined the new terms if he were to be rehired as her personal assistant. No more coming to work hungover. No sleeping at his desk. No letting his personal life, specifically his grief over Amelia, interfere with his duties.
Cain bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I understand completely. I apologize for my past behavior. I give you my word, if you give me this chance, none of those unprofessional incidents will happen again."
Ms. Montes held up a single, manicured finger. "You will retain one of your previous unprofessional habits," she said, and then she winked at him. The gesture was playful, loaded with implication.
Cain let out another awkward laugh, his eyes darting nervously toward her bodyguards at the distant table.
She continued, "I will give you my final decision next week. However, there is a condition. I want to meet this 'Lucifer' I heard on the phone yesterday."
Cain was taken aback. "Lucifer? But she's not applying for a position. I don't even know if she'd be interested in meeting."
"I heard her voice," Ms. Montes said smoothly. "It was distinctive. I suspect she has the look to match. My family has interests in a modeling agency. I could make her a model."
The offer stunned Cain. It was legitimate, and a perfect solution. Lucifer needed purpose, something to do in this world beyond watching television. A job, especially one that leveraged her otherworldly appearance, could be ideal.
"That's… a very generous offer," Cain said, thinking it over. "Alright. I'll bring her with me next week."
Ms. Montes's smile was brilliant. "That is good to hear."
"Thank you," Cain said, his gratitude genuine this time. "Thank you for reconsidering."
"Drop the formalities," she said, her voice dropping to a more intimate register. She reached across the small table, her fingers gently brushing over the back of his hand where it rested beside his coffee cup. "When we are out like this, just call me Gabriel. It feels quite nice to hear you say my name."